THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB (British Mystery Series). Fergus Hume

      “Oh, yes, I can describe that,” said Moreland. “In fact, he’s not at all unlike me, which I take to be rather a compliment, as he is said to be good-looking. He is tall, rather fair, talks in a bored sort of manner, and is altogether what one would call a heavy swell; but you must have seen him,” he went on, turning to Mrs. Hableton, “he was here three or four weeks ago, Whyte told me.”

      “Oh, that was Mr. Fitzgerald, was it?” said Mrs. Hableton, in surprise. “Yes, he is rather like you; the lady they quarrelled over must have been Miss Frettlby.”

      “Very likely,” said Moreland, rising. “Well, I’m off; here’s my address,” putting a card in Gorby’s, hand. “I’m glad to be of any use to you in this matter, as Whyte was my dearest friend, and I’ll do all in my power to help you to find out the murderer.”

      “I don’t think that is a very difficult matter,” said Mr. Gorby, slowly.

      “Oh, you have your suspicions?” asked Moreland, looking at him.

      “I have.”

      “Then who do you think murdered Whyte?”

      Mr. Gorby paused a moment, and then said deliberately: “I have an idea—but I am not certain—when I am certain, I’ll speak.”

      “You think Fitzgerald killed my friend,” said Moreland. “I see it in your face.”

      Mr. Gorby smiled. “Perhaps,” he said, ambiguously. “Wait till I’m certain.”