United States or Burkina Faso ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Knew her father letter of introduction, and all that sort of thing," said Mr. Moreland, glibly. "Ah! indeed," said Mr. Gorby, slowly. "So Mr. Whyte knew Mark Frettlby, the millionaire; but how did he obtain a photograph of the daughter?" "She gave it to him," said Moreland. "The fact is, Whyte was very much in love with Miss Frettlby." "And she "
Mr. Gorby took no notice of this tirade against men, but stood looking at Mr. Whyte's library, which seemed to consist mostly of French novels and sporting newspapers. "Zola," said Mr. Gorby, thoughtfully, taking down a flimsy yellow book rather tattered. "I've heard of him; if his novels are as bad as his reputation I shouldn't care to read them."
Hableton, thinking that Whyte had got into trouble, and was in danger of arrest. "I know that," answered Mr. Gorby. "Then where is 'e?" Mr. Gorby answered abruptly, and watched the effect of his words. "He is dead." Mrs. Hableton grew pale, and pushed back her chair. "No," she cried, "he never killed 'im, did 'e?" "Who never killed him?" queried Mr. Gorby, sharply. Mrs.
Sampson, "but 'e's gone out, an' won't be back till the arternoon, which any messige 'ull be delivered to 'im punctual on 'is arrival." "I'm glad he's not in," said Mr. Gorby. "Would you allow me to have a few moments' conversation?" "What is it?" asked the landlady, her curiosity being roused. "I'll tell you when we get inside," answered Mr. Gorby.
Just as I was leavin' the kitching I 'eard Mr. Fitzgerald a-comin' in, and, turnin' round, looked at the clock, that 'avin' been my custom when my late 'usband came in, in the early mornin', I bein' a-preparin' 'is meal." "And the time was?" asked Mr. Gorby, breathlessly. "Five minutes to two o'clock," replied Mrs. Sampson. Mr. Gorby thought for a moment.
"You shan't come in, I tell you," they heard her say shrilly, "so it's no good trying, which I've allays 'eard as an Englishman's 'ouse is 'is castle, an' you're a-breakin' the law, as well as a-spilin' the carpets, which 'as bin newly put down." Some one made a reply; then the door of Brian's room was thrown open, and Gorby walked in, followed by another man.
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."
While the detective thus soliloquised, his cab, following on the trail of the other, had turned down Spring Street, and was being driven rapidly along the Wellington Parade, in the direction of East Melbourne. It then turned up Powlett Street, at which Mr. Gorby was glad. "Ain't so clever as I thought," he said to himself. "Shows his nest right off, without any attempt to hide it."
Gorby had Been Brian go out, and deeming it a good opportunity for enquiry had lost no time in making a start. "You nearly tored the bell down," said Mrs. Sampson, as she presented her thin body and wrinkled face to the view of the detective. "I'm very sorry," answered Gorby, meekly. "I'll knock next time."
Gorby put on his hat, and went down to Possum Villa, on what he could not help acknowledging to himself was a very slender possibility. Mrs. Hableton opened the door for him, and in silence led the way, not into her own sitting-room, but into a much more luxuriously furnished apartment, which Gorby guessed at once was that of Whyte's.
Word Of The Day