ing for her to do would be to advertise for him, so I'll have
a look at the newspapers."

Mr. Gorby got a file of the different newspapers, and looked carefully
through those columns in which missing friends and people who will hear
"something to their advantage" are generally advertised for.

"He was murdered," said Mr. Gorby to himself, "on a Friday morning,
between one and two o'clock, so he might stay away till Monday without
exciting any suspicion. On Monday, however, the landlady would begin to
feel uneasy, and on Tuesday she would advertise for him. Therefore,"
said Mr. Gorby, running his fat finger down the column, "Wednesday it
is."

It did not appear in Wednesday's paper, neither did it in Thursday's,
but in Friday's issue, exactly one week after the murder, Mr. Gorby
suddenly came upon the following advertisement:--

"If Mr. Oliver Whyte does not return to Possum Villa, Grey Street, St.
Kilda, before the end of the week, his rooms will be let again.--
Rubina Hableton."

"Oliver Whyte," repeated Mr. Gorby slowly, "and the initials on the
pocket-handkerchief which was proved to have belonged to the deceased
were 'O.W.' So his name is Oliver Whyte, is it? Now, I wonder if Rubina
Hableton knows anything about this matter. At any rate," said Mr.
Gorby, putting on his hat, "as I'm fond of sea breezes, I think I'll go
down, and call at Possum Villa, Grey Street, St. Kilda."

CHAPTER V.

MRS. HAMILTON UNBOSOMS HERSELF.

Mrs. Hableton was a lady with a grievance, as anybody who happened to
become acquainted with her, soon found out. It is Beaconsfield who
says, in one of his novels, that no one is so interesting as when he is
talking about himself; and, judging Mrs. Hableton by this statement,
she was an extremely fascinating individual, as she never by any chance
talked upon any other subject. What was the threat of a Russian
invasion to her so long as she had her special grievance--once let that
be removed, and she would have time to attend to such minor details as
affected the colony.

Mrs. Hableton's particular grievance was want of money. Not by any
means an uncommon one, you might remind her; but she snappishly would
tell you that "she knowd that, but some people weren't like other
people." In time one came to learn what she meant by this. She had come
to the Colonies in the early days--days when the making of money in
appreciable quantity was an easier matter than it is now. Owing to a
bad h