"Yes, I have a bit of news--haven't you heard it?"
Rolleston felt he held sensation in his hands. There was nothing he
liked better.
"Well, do you know," he said, gravely fixing in his eyeglass, "they
have found out the name of the fellow who was murdered in the hansom
cab."
"Never!" cried every one eagerly.
"Yes," went on Rolleston, "and what's more, you all know him."
"It's never Whyte?" said Brian, in a horrified tone.
"Hang it, how did you know?" said Rolleston, rather annoyed at being
forestalled. "Why, I just heard it at the St. Kilda station."
"Oh, easily enough," said Brian, rather confused. "I used to meet Whyte
constantly, and as I have not seen him for the last two weeks, I
thought he might be the victim."
"How did they find out?" asked Mr. Frettlby, idly toying with his
wine-glass.
"Oh, one of those detective fellows, you know," answered Felix. "They
know everything."
"I'm sorry to hear it," said Frettlby, referring to the fact that Whyte
was murdered. "He had a letter of introduction to me, and seemed a
clever, pushing young fellow."
"A confounded cad," muttered Felix, under his breath; and Brian, who
overheard him, seemed inclined to assent. For the rest of the meal
nothing was talked about but the murder, and the mystery in which it
was shrouded. When the ladies retired they chatted about it in the
drawingroom, but finally dropped it for more agreeable subjects.
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