The Mystery of a Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume Page A

man who had good introductions. I am only a poor devil on the outskirts of society, trying to push my way in the world.’
    â€˜You know his personal appearance, of course,’ observed Mr Gorby.
    â€˜Oh, yes, I can tell you that,’ said Moreland. ‘In fact, he’s not at all unlike me, which I take to be rather a compliment, as he is said to be good-looking. He is tall, rather fair, talks in a bored sort of manner, and is altogether what one would call a heavy swell; but you must have seen him,’ he went on, turning to Mrs Hableton, ‘he was here three or four weeks ago, Whyte told me.’
    â€˜Oh, that was Mr Fitzgerald, was it?’ said Mrs Hableton, in surprise. ‘Yes, he was rather like you; and so the lady they quarrelled over must have been Miss Frettlby.’
    â€˜Very likely,’ said Moreland rising. ‘Well, I’m off, here’s my address,’ putting a card into Gorby’s hand. ‘I’m glad to be of any use to you in the matter, as Whyte was my dearest friend, and I’ll do all in my power to help you to find out the murderer.’
    â€˜I don’t think that is a very difficult matter,’ said Gorby slowly.
    â€˜Oh, you have your suspicions?’ said Moreland, looking at him.
    â€˜I have.’
    â€˜Then who do you think murdered Whyte?’
    Mr Gorby paused a moment, and then said deliberately, ‘I have an idea—but I am not certain—when I am certain, I’ll speak.’
    â€˜You think Fitzgerald killed my friend,’ said Moreland. ‘I see it in your face.’
    Mr Gorby smiled. ‘Perhaps,’ he said ambiguously.‘Wait till I’m certain.’

CHAPTER SEVEN
    A WOOL KING
    The old Greek story of Midas, who turned everything he touched into gold, is truer than most peoplesuppose. Medieval superstition changed the human being who possessed such a power, into the philosophers’ stone, after which so many alchemists went hunting in the dark ages, but we of the nineteenth century have given the miracle of changing everything into gold by the touch, back to its human possessor. We, however, do not ascribe it either to Greek deity or medieval superstition, but simply call it luck, and he who possesses luck is a happy man, or, at least, he ought to be. Wiseacres who may read this will, of course, repeat the stale proverb, that ‘Riches do not bring happiness,’ but luckmeans more than riches—it means happiness in everything which the fortunate possessor may choose to go in for. If he goes into a speculation, it turns out well; if he marries a wife, she is sure to be everything that can be desired; if he aspires to a position, social or political, he attains it with ease—worldly wealth, domestic happiness, and good position, all these belong to the men who have luck.
    Mark Frettlby was one of these fortunate individuals, and his luck was proverbial throughout Australia. If there was any speculation for which Mark Frettlby went in, other men would be sure to follow, and in every case the result turned out as well, and in many cases even better than they expected. He had come out in the early days of the colony with comparatively little money, but his great perseverance and never-failing luck had soon changed his hundreds into thousands, and now at the age of fifty-five he did not himself know the extent of his income. He had large stations scattered all over the Colony of Victoria, which brought him in a splendid income. A charming country house, where at certain seasons of the year, he dispensed hospitality to his friends, like the lord of an English manor, and a magnificent town house down in St Kilda, which would not have been unworthy of Park Lane.
    Nor were his domestic relations less happy—he had a charming wife, who was one of the best known and most popular ladies of Melbourne, and an equallycharming daughter, who, being both pretty and an heiress, naturally attracted