The Mystery of a Hansom Cab Read Online Free PDF

him, and being afraid that the cab will stop, and he will be found out, snatches what he wants out of the pocket so quickly that he tears the waistcoat, and then makes off. That’s clear enough, but the question is, what was it he wanted? A case with jewels? No! It could not have been anything so bulky, or the dead man would never have carried it about inside his waistcoat. It was something flat which could easily lie in the pocket—a paper—some valuable paper which the assassin wanted, and for which he killed the other.
    â€˜This is all very well,’ said Mr Gorby, throwing down the waistcoat, and rising. ‘I have found number two before number one. The first question is: Who is the murdered man? He’s a stranger in Melbourne, that’s pretty clear, or else someone would be sure to have recognised him before now by the description given in the reward. Now, I wonder if he has any relations here? No, he can’t, or else they would have made enquiries before this. Well, there’s one thing certain, he must have had a landlady or landlord, unless he slept in the open air. He can’t have lived in an hotel, as the landlord of any hotel in Melbourne would have recognised him from the description, especially when the whole placeis ringing with the murder. Private lodgings, more like, and a landlady who doesn’t read the papers, and doesn’t gossip, or she’d have known all about it by this time. Now, if he did live, as I think, in private lodgings, and suddenly disappeared, his landlady wouldn’t keep quiet. It’s a whole week since the murder, and as the lodger has not been seen or heard of, the landlady will naturally make enquiries. If, however, as I surmise, the lodger is a stranger, she will not know where to enquire, therefore, under these circumstances, the most natural thing 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 in the columns where missing friends, and people who will hear something to their advantage are generally advertised for.
    â€˜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 on the following advertisement:—
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜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 FIVE
    MRS HABLETON 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 as long as she had her special grievance—once let that be removed, and she would have time to attend to these minor details which affected the