“No,” with an angry flush, “but there are certain circumstances which prevent me from defending myself.”

“What nonsense,” retorted Calton, sharply, “as if any circumstances should prevent a man from saving his own life.  But never mind, I like these objections; they make the nut harder to crack—­but the kernel must be worth getting at.  Now, I want you to answer certain questions.”

“I won’t promise.”

“Well, we shall see,” said the lawyer, cheerfully, taking out his note-book, and resting it on his knee.  “First, where were you on the Thursday night preceding the murder?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, yes, you can, my friend.  You left St. Kilda, and came up to town by the eleven o’clock train.”

“Eleven-twenty,” corrected Brian.

Calton smiled in a gratified manner as he noted this down.  “A little diplomacy is all that’s required,” he said mentally.

“And where did you go then?” he added, aloud.

“I met Rolleston in the train, and we took a cab from the Flinders Street station up to the Club.”

“What Club?”

“The Melbourne Club.”

“Yes?” interrogatively.

“Rolleston went home, and I went into the Club and played cards for a time.”

“When did you leave the Club?”

“A few minutes to one o’clock in the morning.”

“And then, I suppose, you went home?”

“No; I did not.”

“Then where did you go?”

“Down the street.”

“Rather vague.  I presume you mean Collins Street?”

“Yes.”

“You were going to meet some one, I suppose?”

“I never said so.”

“Probably not; but young men don’t wander about the streets at night without some object.”

“I was restless and wanted a walk.”

“Indeed!  How curious you should prefer going into the heart of the dusty town for a walk to strolling through the Fitzroy Gardens, which were on your way home!  It won’t do; you had an appointment to meet some one.”

“Well—­er—­yes.”

“I thought as much.  Man or woman?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Then I must find out for myself.”

“You can’t.”

“Indeed!  Why not?”

“You don’t know where to look for her.”

“Her,” cried Calton, delighted at the success of his craftily-put question.  “I knew it was a woman.”

Brian did not answer, but sat biting his lips with vexation.

“Now, who is this woman?”

No answer.

“Come now, Fitzgerald, I know that young men will be young men, and, of course, you don’t like these things talked about; but in this case your character must be sacrificed to save your neck.  What is her name?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Oh! you know it, then?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you won’t tell me?”

“No!”

Calton, however, had found out two things that pleased him; first, that Fitzgerald had an appointment, and, second that it had been with a woman.  He pursued another line.