"And the time was?" asked Mr. Gorby, breathlessly.
"Five minutes to two o'clock," replied Mrs. Sampson. Mr. Gorby thought for a moment.
"Cab was hailed at one o'clock—started for St. Kilda at about ten minutes past—reached Grammar School, say, at twenty-five minutes past—Fitzgerald talks five minutes to cabman, making it half-past—say, he waited ten minutes for other cab to turn up, makes it twenty minutes to two—it would take another twenty minutes to get to East Melbourne—and five minutes to walk up here—that makes it five minutes past two instead of before—confound it. 'Was your clock in the kitchen right?'" he asked, aloud.
"Well, I think so," answered Mrs. Sampson. "It does get a little slow sometimes, not 'avin' been cleaned for some time, which my nevy bein' a watchmaker I allays 'ands it over to 'im."
"Of course it was slow on that night," said Gorby, triumphantly.
"He must have come in at five minutes past two—which makes it right."
"Makes what right?" asked the landlady, sharply. "And 'ow do you know my clock was ten minutes wrong?"
"Oh, it was, was it?" asked Gorby, eagerly.
"I'm not denyin' of it," replied Mrs. Sampson; "clocks ain't allays to be relied on more than men an' women—but it won't be anythin' agin 'is insurance, will it, as in general 'e's in afore twelve?"
"Oh, all that will be quite safe," answered the detective, delighted with the information he had obtained. "Is this Mr. Fitzgerald's room?"