y with. But how is this to be managed? It is
one thing to speak, and another to act. There seems to be no possible
clue discoverable at present which can lead to the discovery of the
real murderer. The man in the light coat who got out of Rankin's cab at
Powlett Street, East Melbourne (designedly, as it now appears, in order
to throw suspicion on Fitzgerald), has vanished as completely as the
witches in Macbeth, and left no trace behind. It was two o'clock in the
morning when he left the cab, and, in a quiet suburb like East
Melbourne, no one would be about, so that he could easily escape
unseen. There seems to be only one chance of ever tracing him, and that
is to be found in the papers which were stolen from the pocket of the
dead man. What they were, only two persons knew, and one knows now. The
first, two were Whyte and the woman who was called 'The Queen,' and
both of them are now dead. The other who knows now is the man who
committed the crime. There can be no doubt that these papers were the
motive for the crime, as no money was taken from the pockets of the
deceased. The fact, also, that the papers were carried in a pocket made
inside the waistcoat of the deceased shows that they were of value.

"Now, the reason we think that the dead woman knew of the existence of
these papers is simply this. It appears that she came out from England
with Whyte as his mistress, and after staying some time in Sydney came
on to Melbourne. How she came into such a foul and squalid den as that
she died in, we are unable to say, unless, seeing that she was given to
drink, she was picked up drunk by some Samaritan of the slums, and
carried to Mrs. Rawlins' humble abode. Whyte visited her there
frequently, but appears to have made no attempt to remove her to a
better place, alleging as his reason that the doctor said she would die
if taken into the air. Our reporter learned from one of the detectives
that the dead woman was in the habit of talking to Whyte about certain
papers, and on one occasion was overheard to say to him, 'They'll make
your fortune if you play your cards well.' This was told to the
detective by the woman Rawlins, to whose providential appearance Mr.
Fitzgerald owes his escape. From this it can be gathered that the
papers--whatever they might be--were of value, and sufficient to tempt
another to commit a murder in order to obtain them. Whyte, therefore,
being dead, and his murderer having escaped, the only way of
d