The
secret of Whyte's murder, and the reason for it, is known to you, but
you refuse, even in the interests of justice, to reveal it--why, I
don't know; but we all have our little faults, and from an amiable
though mistaken sense of--shall I say--duty?--you refuse to
deliver up the man whose cowardly crime so nearly cost you your life.
"After your departure from Melbourne every one said, 'The hansom cab
tragedy is at an end, and the murderer will never be discovered.' I
ventured to disagree with the wiseacres who made such a remark, and
asked myself, 'Who was this woman who died at Mother Guttersnipe's?'
Receiving no satisfactory answer from myself, I determined to find out,
and took steps accordingly. In the first place, I learned from Roger
Moreland, who, if you remember, was a witness against you at the trial,
that Whyte and Rosanna Moore had come out to Sydney in the JOHN ELDER
about a year ago as Mr. and Mrs. Whyte. I need hardly say that they did
not think it needful to go through the formality of marriage, as such a
tie might have been found inconvenient on some future occasion.
Moreland knew nothing about Rosanna Moore, and advised me to give up
the search, as, coming from a city like London, it would be difficult
to find anyone that knew her there. Notwithstanding this, I telegraphed
home to a friend of mine, who is a bit of an amateur detective, 'Find
out the name and all about the woman who left England in the JOHN ELDER
on the 21st day of August, 18--, as wife of Oliver Whyte.
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