"It's only two months ago since I decided to take in lodgers; but
charin's 'ard work, and sewin's tryin' for the eyes, So, bein' a lone
woman, 'avin' bin badly treated by a brute, who is now dead, which I
was allays a good wife to 'im, I thought lodgers 'ud 'elp me a little,
so I put a notice in the paper, an' Mr. Oliver Whyte took the rooms two
months ago."

"What was he like?"

"Not very tall, dark face, no whiskers nor moustache, an' quite the
gentleman."

"Anything peculiar about him?"

Mrs. Hableton thought for a moment.

"Well," she said at length, "he 'ad a mole on his left temple, but it
was covered with 'is 'air, an' few people 'ud 'ave seen it."

"The very man," said Gorby to himself, "I'm on the right path."

"Mr. Whyte said 'e 'ad just come from England," went on the woman.

"Which," thought Mr. Gorby, "accounts for the corpse not being
recognised by friends."

"He took the rooms, an' said 'e'd stay with me for six months, an' paid
a week's rent in advance, an' 'e allays paid up reg'ler like a
respectable man, tho' I don't believe in 'em myself. He said
'e'd lots of friends, an' used to go out every night."