"No one except myself," retorted Naball boldly, for, though inferior to Stewart in size, he by no means wanted pluck; "but I'm engaged in a serious case, and it will be best for you to speak out frankly.
"You surely don't suspect Stewart of the murder?" interposed Ezra warmly.
"I suspect nobody," retorted Naball. "I'm only asking him a question, and, if he's wise, he'll answer it."
Keith thought for a moment. He saw that, for some extraordinary reason or another, Naball suspected him, so, in order to be on the safe side, resolved to take the detective's advice and answer the question.
"It is, as you say, a serious matter," he observed quietly, "and I am the last person in the world not to give any assistance to the finding out of the criminal; ask what you please, and I will answer."
This reply somewhat staggered Naball, but, as he had strong suspicions about Stewart's innocence, he put down the apparent frankness of the answer to crafty diplomacy.
"I only want to know," he said mildly, "how a gentleman in your position can afford to belong to an expensive club."
"Because I can afford to do so," replied Keith calmly. "When I first came to Melbourne, I had no money, and was engaged by Mr. Lazarus as his clerk, with the understanding I should stay with him six months. To this I agreed, but shortly afterwards a sum of five hundred pounds was placed to my credit, and afforded me a chance of living in good style. I wished to leave the pawnshop, but Mr. Lazarus reminded me of my position, and I had to stay. That is all."
"Who placed this five hundred to your credit?" asked Naball.
"I don't know."