The Mystery of a Hansom Cab

eet-these last words being especially significant-and there was no doubt that he had carried out his threat. The committal of the crime was merely the fulfilment of the words uttered

ey appeared, from the landlady's description, to have been so friendly that it was more than likely Whyte would have told Moreland all about his angry visitor. Besides, Moreland's knowledge of his dead friend's life and habits might be able to supply information on two points, namely, who was most likely to ga

might either stay away for an indefinite time or return after a few days. At all events it was worth while going down to St. Kilda in the evening on the chance that Moreland might have returned to

ut into a much more luxuriously furnished apartment, which Gorby guessed at once was that of Whyte'

A man who would have his friends, and possibly

of life. The room was well furnished, the furniture being covered with dark-red velvet,

young men to stop with you, the rooms must be well furnished, an' Mr. Whyte paid well, tho' 'e was rather pert

e. The walls were covered with pictures of celebrated horses and famous jockeys. Alternating with these were photographs of ladies of the stage, mostly London actresses, Nellie Farren, Kate Vaughan, and other burlesque stars, evidently being the objects of the late Mr. Whyte's adoration. Over the mantelpiec

said Mr. Gorby, nodding his

amed when I dusts 'em as never was-I don't believe in gals gettin' their picters taken wi

wered Mr. Gorby dryly, g

ation, as if women were made for nothin' but to earn money 'an see 'em drink it, as my 'usband did, which 'is inside never seemed to

t stood looking at Mr. Whyte's library, which seemed to

ellow book rather tattered. "I've heard of him; if his novel

er feet. "That may be Mr. Moreland," she said, as the detective quickly replaced "Zola" in the bookcase

o was listening intently, heard a man

y; "but there's a gentleman in his room a

intimate friend. He was a tall, slender man, with a pink and white complexion, curly fair hair, and a drooping straw-coloured moustac

g into a chair, and taking no more notice of the de

at his questioner for a few moments, as if he were debating the advisability of answering or not. At l

country for a few days, and arrived back only this evenin

stood looking at the young man b

ll know me again, my friend, but I didn't know Whyte had

rward and stood u

r, and I am a detecti

wn. "What has Whyte been doing; running away with someone

hook hi

Whyte is to be found?

and l

ere, as these are his head-quarters. What has he been doing? Nothing tha

errupted Mrs. Hableton

with a sneer, "and one I'm afraid I'll never enjoy. But why

" said Gorb

anished on hearing this, and

ed mechanically.

m cab." Moreland stared at the detective in a puzzled

s he sat down again. "Whyte murdered! He was a

een the papers

ut the murder at all, as my landlady gave me a garbled account of it, but I never for a moment connected it with Whyte, and I came down her

ted a small tear to roll down one hard cheek as a tribute of sorrow and symp

aid, leaning his cheek on hi

hile the detective sat down and related all that he knew about Whyte's murde

, "this would not have happened,

sir?" said the detectiv

hers," replied Mor

same steamer with him, and use

her head to imply t

moment's thought, "I believe I was w

n over her face, but the detective sat unmoved, though

said Moreland, turn

met him last Thursday week, and I left for th

meet Whyte on Thursda

nine o'clock. I was in the Orient Hotel, in Bourke Street. We had a drink together, and then went up the street t

d Mrs. Hableton,

Gorby, placi

one to the other with a pleasant smile, "but in a case like this, I feel

now, drunk when he got

. "I had my senses about me. I fancy he left the hote

at did

in Bourke Street with the coat in my hand. Then some one came up, and, snatching the coat from me, made off with it, and the last thing I remember was shouting out: 'Stop, thief!' Then I must have fallen down, for next morn

ession that Whyte wa

frankly. "He was in pretty good spir

cause of his b

ere very much the same as the photographs in the room, burlesque actresses and ladies of the ballet predominating; but Mr. Morelan

the cause,

r, and holding a lawn-tennis racquet. She was bending half forward, with a winning smile, and in the

ttlby," she said. "

duction, and all that sort of th

hyte knew Mark Frettlby, the millionaire; but h

nd. "The fact is, Whyte was very

d s

loved a Mr. Brian Fitzgerald, to whom she is now engaged. He was mad on

rby. "And do you know

ne. He was a rich young man who had good introductions. I am only a poor

s personal appearance, of c

is said to be good-looking. He is tall, rather fair, talks in a bored sort of manner, and is altogether what one would call a he

eton, in surprise. "Yes, he is rather like you; the l

ard in Gorby's, hand. "I'm glad to be of any use to you in this matter, as Whyte was

very difficult matter,"

spicions?" asked More

hav

you think mur

deliberately: "I have an idea-but I am no

ed my friend," said Morela

s," he said, ambiguously.