Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-12-10

The stranger waited placidly during the outburst, and Mrs. Hableton, having stopped for want of breath he interposed quietly: '.
 "Can I speak to yo1 for a few momentsP'
 "An' who's stoppin' of youg' said Mrs. Hableton, deiantly. "Well, really" said the other, looking up at the cloudless blue sky, and wiping his face. with gaudy red silk pocket handkerchief, Git is rather hot, you know, and"- Mrs. Hableton did not give him time to finish, but walking to the gate, opened it with jerk.
 ''Use your legs and walk in" she said, and, the stranger having done so, she led the way into the house, and into a small, neat sitting room, which seemed to overflow with anti. macassars, wool mats and wax flowers. There was also row of emu eggs on the mantel- piece, cutlass on the wall and grimy line of hard looking little books, set in a stiff 1 row on shelf, presumably for ornament, as | they looked too unpleasant to tempt any one | to read them. The furniture was of horse ! hair, and everything was hard and shiny, so when the stranger sat down in the slippery 1 looking armchair that Mrs Hableton pushed toward him he could not help thinking it had been stuffed with stones, it felt so cold and hard. The lady herself sat opposite to him 1 in another hard chair, and, having taken the | handkerchief off her head, folded it care 1 fully, laid it on her lap, and then looked straight at her unexpected visitor. l ''Now, then" she said, letting her mouth fly open so rapidly that it gave one the i'm pression that it was moved by strings like a marionette, 'who are youa what are youa and | what do you wanta" l The stranger put his red silk handkerchief | into his hat placed it on the table and an swered deliberately: My name is Gorby. I am detective. I | want Mr. Oliver Whyte."
 "He ain't here,n said Mrs. Hableton, think 1 ing that Whyte had got into trouble and was going to be arrested. l ''I know that" answered Mir. Gorby. l ''Then where is 'e2" Mr. Gorby answered abruptly, and watched | the effect of his words:
 ''He is dead"
 Mrs. Hableton got quite pale, and pushed back her chair. "No," she cried "Where was he killedp'
 "In the open streetT' she asked, in startled tone
 "Yes, in the open street."
 ''Mr. Gorby," she said at length, "I lave lad lard struggle all my life which it came along of bad husband, who was brute and a drunkard, so, God knows, I ain't got much lnducement to think well or the lot or you, but-murier," she shivered slightly, though the room was quite warm, 'I didn't think of that"
 'In connection with whomf"
 "Mr. Whyte, of course, " she answered hrr- riedly.
 "And who elsean
 "I don't know"
 'sThen there is nobody else9n
 "Well, don't know-I'm not sure"
 The detective was puzzled.
 "What do you meanP' he asked. "I will tell you all know" said Mrs. Hableton, 'an' if 'e's innocent, God will 'elp linn r
 of who is innocentF'
 "Ill tell you everythin' from the start, said Mrs. Hableton, "an' you can judge foz yourself
 Mir. Gorby assented, and she began:
 "It's only two months ago since decided to take in lodgers; but chorin's 'ard work and sewin's tryin' for the eyes. So, bein' Q lone woman, 'avin' been badly treated by 6 brute, who is now dead, which was allay: good wife to i'm, Thought lodgers 'ud 'elI me little, so put notice in the paper, an Mr. Oliver Whyte took the rooms two months ago"
 "What was he ikeF'
 s' Not very tall, dark face, no whiskers nol mustache, an quite the gentleman"
 ''Anything peculiar about hirnT
 Mrs. Hableton thought for a moment.
 ''Well,n she said at length, she lad a mol'
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