and a small wine-glass. Half filling the glass, she drank it off, and
returned to her seat.

"I don't take much of that stuff," she said, seeing the detective's
eyes fixed curiously on her, "but you 'ave given me such a turn that I
must take something to steady my nerves; what do you want me to do?"

"Tell me all you know," said Mr. Gorby, keeping his eyes fixed on her
face.

"Where was Mr. Whyte killed?" she asked.

"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