"
"Well," said Kilsip, rising and looking at his watch, "it is now nine
o'clock, so if you like we will go to the old hag's place at once--dying
woman," he said, as if struck by a sudden thought, "there was a
woman who died there about four weeks ago."
"Who was she?" asked Calton, who was putting on his overcoat.
"Some relation of Mother Guttersnipe's, I fancy," answered Kilsip, as
they left the office. "I don't know exactly what she was--she was
called the 'Queen,' and a precious handsome woman she must have been--came
from Sydney about three months ago, and from what I can make out,
was not long from England, died of consumption on the Thursday night
before the murder."
CHAPTER XV.
A WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE.
Bourke Street is a more crowded thoroughfare than Collins Street,
especially at night. The theatres that it contains are in themselves
sufficient for the gathering of a considerable crowd. It is a grimy
crowd for the most part. Round the doors of the hotels a number of
ragged and shabby-looking individuals collect, waiting till some kind
friend shall invite them to step inside. Further on a knot of
horsey-looking men are to be seen standing under the Opera House
verandah giving and taking odds about the Melbourne Cup, or some other
meeting. Here and there are ragged street Arabs, selling matches and
newspapers; and against the verandah post, in the full blaze of the
electric light, leans a weary, draggled-looking woman, one arm clasping
a baby to her breast, and the other holding a pile of newspapers, while
she drones out in a hoarse voice, "'ERALD, third 'dition, one penny!"
until the ear wearies of the constant repetition.
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