taking things all around, although Kilsip was the more clever of the two, yet Gorby, owing to his physical advantages, was the most successful. They each had their followers and admirers, but both men cordially detested one another, seldom meeting without a quarrel. When Gorby, therefore, had the hansom cab murder case put into his hands, the soul of Kilsip was smitten with envy, and when Fitzgerald was arrested, and all the evidence collected by Gorby seemed to point so conclusively to his guilt, Kilsip writhed in secret over the triumph of his enemy. Though he would only have been too glad to have said Gorby had got hold of the wrong man, yet the evidence was so conclusive that such a thought had never entered his head until he received a note from Mr. Calton, asking him to call at his ofBce that evening at eight o'clock, with reference to the hansom cab murder. Kilsip knew that Calton was counsel for the prisoner, and instantly guessed that a clue had been discovered, which he was wanted to follow up, and which might prove the prisoner's innocence. Full of this idea, he had determined to devote himself, heart and soul, to whatever Calton wanted him to do, and if he only could prove Gorby wrong, what a triumph it would be. He was so pleased with the possibility of such a thing that, accidentally meeting his rival, he asked him to have a glass. As such a thing had not occurred before, Gorby was somewhat suspicious of such sudden hospitality, but as he flattered himself that he was more than a match for Kilsip, doth mentally and physically, he accepted the invitation.
"Ah!" said Kilsip, in his soft, low voice, rubbing his lean white hands together, as they sat over their drinks; "you are a lucky man to have laid your hands on that hansom cab murderer so quickly."
"Yes; I flatter myself I did manage it pretty well," said Gorby, lighting his pipe. "I had no idea that it would be so simple—though, mind you, it required a lot of thought before I got a proper start."
"I suppose you're pretty sure he's the man you want?" pursued Kilsip, softly, with a brilliant flash of his black eyes.
"Pretty sure, indeed!" retorted Mr. Gorby, scornfully, "there ain't no pretty sure about it. I'd take my Bible
