“You want to see me, sir?” said Calton, resuming his seat.

“Yes; that is alone,” replied Moreland, uneasily.

“Oh, these gentlemen are my friends,” said Calton, quietly; “anything you may say is quite safe.”

“That they are your friends, and are quite safe, is nothing to me,” said Moreland, insolently, “I wish to speak to you in private.”

“Don’t you think you would like to know my friends?” said Calton, coolly taking no notice of his remark.

“D—­your friends, sir!” cried Moreland, furiously, rising from his seat.

Calton laughed, and introduced Mr. Moreland to the others.

“Dr. Chinston, Mr. Kilsip, and—­Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“Fitzgerald,” gasped Moreland, growing pale.  “I—­I—­what’s that?” he shrieked, as he saw Whyte’s coat, all weather-stained, lying on a chair near him, and which he immediately recognised.

“That is the rope that’s going to hang you,” said Kilsip, quietly, coming behind him, “for the murder of Oliver Whyte.”

“Trapped by G—!” shouted the wretched man, wheeling round, so as to face Kilsip.  He sprang at the detective’s throat, and they both rolled together on the floor, but the latter was too strong for him, and, after a sharp struggle, he succeeded in getting the handcuffs on Moreland’s wrists.  The others stood around perfectly quiet, knowing that Kilsip required no assistance.  Now that there was no possibility of escape, Moreland seemed to become resigned, and rose sullenly off the floor.

“I’ll make you pay for this,” he hissed between hie teeth, with a white despairing face.  “You can’t prove anything.”

“Can’t we?” said Calton, touching the confession.  “You are wrong.  This is the confession of Mark Frettlby made before he died.”

“It’s a lie.”

“A jury will decide that,” said the barrister, dryly.  “Meanwhile you will pass the night in the Melbourne Gaol.”

“Ah! perhaps they’ll give me the same cell as you occupied,” said Moreland, with a hard laugh, turning to Fitzgerald.  “I should like it for its old associations.”

Brian did not answer him, but picking up his hat and gloves, prepared to go.

“Stop!” cried Moreland, fiercely.  “I see that it’s all up with me, so I’m not going to lie like a coward.  I’ve played for a big stake and lost, but if I hadn’t been such a fool I’d have cashed that cheque the next morning, and been far away by this time.”

“It certainly would have been wiser,” said Calton.

“After all,” said Moreland, nonchalantly, taking no notice of his remark, “I don’t know that I’m sorry about it.  I’ve had a hell upon earth since I killed Whyte.”

“Then you acknowledge your guilt?” said Brian, quietly.

Moreland shrugged his shoulders.