"He was murdered in a hansom cab on the St. Kilda Road." "In the open street?" she asked in a startled tone. "Yes, in the open street." "Ah!" she drew a long breath, and closed her lips, firmly. Mr. Gorby said nothing. He saw that she was deliberating whether or not to speak, and a word from him might seal her lips, so, like a wise man, he kept silent. He obtained his reward sooner than he expected. "Mr. Gorby," she said at length, "I 'ave 'ad a 'ard struggle all my life, which it came along of a bad husband, who was a brute and a drunkard, so, God knows, I ain't got much inducement to think well of the lot of you, but--murder," she shivered slightly, though the room was quite warm, "I didn't think of that." "In connection with whom?" "Mr. Whyte, of course," she answered, hurriedly. "And who else?" "I don't know." "Then there is nobody else?" "Well, I don't know--I'm not sure." The detective was puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I will tell you all I know," said Mrs. Hableton, "an' if 'e's innocent, God will 'elp 'im." "If who is innocent?" "I'll tell you everythin' from the start," said Mrs. Hableton, "an' you can judge for yourself." Mr. Gorby assented, and she began: "It's only two months ago since I decided to take in lodgers; but charin's 'ard work, and sewin's tryin' for the eyes, so, bein' a lone woman, 'avin' bin badly treated by a brute, who is now dead, which I was allays a good wife to 'im, I thought lodgers 'ud 'elp me a little, so I put a notice in the paper, an' Mr. Oliver Whyte took the rooms two months ago." "What was he like?" "Not very tall, dark face, no whiskers nor moustache, an' quite the gentleman." "Anything peculiar about him?" Mrs. Hableton thought for a moment. "Well," she said at length, "he 'ad a mole on his left temple, but it was covered with 'is 'air, an' few people 'ud 'ave seen it." "The very man," said Gorby to himself, "I'm on the right path." "Mr. Whyte said 'e 'ad just come from England," went on the woman. "Which," thought Mr. Gorby, "accounts for the corpse not being recognised by friends." "He took the rooms, an' said 'e'd stay with me for six months, an' paid a week's rent in advance, an' 'e allays paid up reg'ler like a respectable man, tho' I don't believe in 'em myself. He said 'e'd lots of friends, an' used to go out every night." "Who were his friends?" "That I can't tell you, for 'e were very close, an' when 'e went out of doors I never knowd where 'e went, which is jest like 'em; for they ses they're goin' to work, an' you finds 'em in the beershop. Mr. Whyte told me 'e was a-goin' to marry a heiress, 'e was." "Ah!" interjected Mr. Gorby, sapiently. "He 'ad only one friend as I ever saw--a Mr. Moreland--who comed 'ere with 'm, an' was allays with 'im--brother-like." "What is this Mr. Moreland like?" "Good-lookin' enough," said Mrs. Hableton sourly, "but 'is 'abits weren't as good as 'is face--'andsom is as 'andsom does, is what I ses."