Free The Mystery of a Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume Page B

and woman came walking slowly along, evidently lovers, for they sat down near Mr Gorby and looked hard at him, just to hint that he need not stay. But the detective took no notice of their appealing glances, but kept his eyes steadily on the great house opposite to him, so the lovers took themselves off with a very bad grace. Then he saw Madge and Brian come out on to the verandah, and heard Miss Featherweight’s shrill voice singing, which sounded weird and unearthly in the stillness of the night. He saw Madge go in, and then Brian, the latter turning and staring at him for aminute or so.
    â€˜Ah!’ said Gorby to himself, relighting his pipe, ‘your conscience is a-smiting you, is it? Wait till you’re in gaol.’
    Then the guests came out of the house and disappeared one by one, black figures in the moonlight, after kisses and handshaking. Shortly afterwards Brian came down the path with Frettlby by his side, and Madge hanging on to her father’s arm. Frettlby opened the gate, and held out his hand.
    â€˜Goodnight, Fitzgerald,’ he said, in a hearty voice, ‘come down soon again.’
    â€˜Goodnight, Brian, dearest,’ said Madge, kissing him, ‘and don’t forget tomorrow.’
    Then father and daughter closed the gate, leaving Brian outside, and walked back to the house.
    â€˜Ah!’ said Mr Gorby to himself, ‘if you only knew what I know, you wouldn’t be so precious kind to him.’
    Brian walked along the Esplanade, and then crossing over, passed by Gorby and walked on till he was opposite the Esplanade Hotel. Then he leaned his arms on the fence, and, taking off his hat, enjoyed the calm beauty of the hour.
    â€˜What a good-looking fellow,’ murmured Mr Gorby in a regretful tone. ‘I can hardly believe it of him, but the proofs are too clear.’
    Such a still night, not a breath of wind stirring, for the breeze had long since died away, and Brian could see the white waves breaking on the yellow sands,the long narrow pier running out like a black thread into the sheet of gleaming silver, and away in the distance the long line of the Williamstown lights like a fairy illumination. Over all this fantastic scene of land and water was a sky such as Doré loved—great heavy masses of rain clouds heaped one on top of the other like the rocks the Titans piled to reach Olympus. Then a break in the white woof and a bit of dark blue sky could be seen glittering with stars, in the midst of which sailed the serene moon shedding down her cold light on the fantastical cloudland beneath, and giving to every one a silver lining. Such a weird bizarre sort of sky that Brian gazed up at it for several minutes, admiring the wonderful beauty of the broken masses of light and shadow, much to the annoyance of Mr Gorby, who had no eye for the picturesque. At last, with a sigh, Mr Fitzgerald withdrew his eyes from the contemplation of the marvellous, and, lighting a cigarette, walked down the steps on to the pier.
    â€˜Suicide is it,’ muttered Mr Gorby to himself, as he saw the tall black figure striding resolutely on, a long way ahead. ‘Not if I can help it.’ So he lighted his pipe, and strolled down the pier in an apparently aimless manner.
    He found Brian leaning over the parapet at the end of the pier and looking at the glittering waters beneath, which kept rising and falling in a dreamy rhythm, that soothed and charmed the ear. ‘Poor girl! poor girl!’ the detective heard him mutter as he cameup. ‘If she only knew all! If she—’
    At this moment he heard the approaching step, and turned round sharply. The detective saw that his face was ghastly pale in the moonlight, and his brows wrinkled angrily.
    â€˜What the devil do you want?’ he burst out, as Gorby paused. ‘What do you mean by following me all over the place?’
    â€˜Saw me watching the house,’ said Gorby to himself. ‘I’m not