"Damn him," cried Keith fiercely, "he suspects me of this crime."
"Pooh! that's nonsense," replied Ezra, as they went out, "you can easily prove an alibi."
"No, I can't," replied Keith, in a hard tone. "From half-past twelve o'clock till two I was by myself, and no one saw me. I say I was wandering about the streets, he thinks I was in Russell Street committing a murder."
"I don't think you need be a bit afraid of anyone suspecting you," said Ezra bitterly. "Why, they might as well think I killed my father."
"You!"
"Yes. I had a quarrel with him, and then he was murdered. Oh, I assure you they could get up an excellent case against me."
"But you could prove an alibi."
"That's just where it is," said Ezra coolly; "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because, after leaving Kitty Marchurst, I went down the street to The Penny Whistle office, and found it closed. I then walked home along Collins Street, through the Fitzroy Gardens. It was a beautiful night, and, as I was thinking over my quarrel with my father, I sat down on one of the seats for a time, so I did not get home till two o'clock in the morning. No one saw me, and I've got quite as much difficulty in proving an alibi as you have."