“Now, what the deuce is this for?” said Mr. Gorby, scratching his head; “it ain’t usual for a dress waistcoat to have a pocket on its inside as I’m aware of; and,” continued the detective, greatly excited, “this ain’t tailor’s work, he did it himself, and jolly badly he did it too.  Now he must have taken the trouble to make this pocket himself, so that no one else would know anything about it, and it was made to carry something valuable—­so valuable that he had to carry it with him even when he wore evening clothes.  Ah! here’s a tear on the side nearest the outside of the waistcoat; something has been pulled out roughly.  I begin to see now.  The dead man possessed something which the other man wanted, and which he knew the dead one carried about with him.  He sees him drunk, gets into the cab with him, and tries to get what he wants.  The dead man resists, upon which the other kills him by means of the chloroform which he had with him, and being afraid that the Gab will stop, and he will be found out, snatches what he wants out of the pocket so quickly that he tears the waistcoat and then makes off.  That’s clear enough, but the question is, What was it he wanted?  A case with jewels?  No!  It could not have been anything so bulky, or the dead man would never have carried it about inside his waistcoat.  It was something Hat, which could easily lie in the pocket—­a paper—­some valuable paper which the assassin wanted, and for which he killed the other.”

“This is all very well,” said Mr. Gorby, throwing down the waistcoat, and rising.  “I have found number two before number one.  The first question is:  Who is the murdered man.  He’s a stranger in Melbourne, that’s pretty clear, or else some one would have been sure to recognise him before now by the description given in the reward.  Now, I wonder if he has any relations here?  No, he can’t, or else they would have made enquiries, before this.  Well, there’s one thing certain, he must have had a landlady or landlord, unless he slept in the open air.  He can’t have lived in an hotel, as the landlord of any hotel in Melbourne would have recognised him from the description, especially when the whole place is ringing with the murder.  Private lodgings more like, and a landlady who doesn’t read the papers and doesn’t gossip, or she’d have known all about it by this time.  Now, if he did live, as I think, in private lodgings, and suddenly disappeared, his landlady wouldn’t keep quiet.  It’s a whole week since the murder, and as the lodger has not been seen or heard of, the landlady will naturally make enquiries.  If, however, as I surmise, the lodger is a stranger, she will not know where to enquire; therefore, under these circumstances, the most natural thing for her to do would be to advertise for him, so I’ll have a look at the newspapers.”

Mr. Gorby got a file of the different newspapers, and looked carefully through those columns in which missing friends and people who will hear “something to their advantage” are generally advertised for.