precious handsome woman she must have been—came from Sydney about three months ago, and from what I can make out, was not long from England; died of consumption on the Thursday night before the murder."
"Then she must have been the woman who wrote the letter."
"No doubt of it," replied Kilsip; "but if Fitzgerald was there on that night, we can get plenty of witnesses to prove an alibi. I am sure of two at least, Mother Guttersnipe and her granddaughter, Sal."
But Mr. Calton was not listening—as he stepped along beside his companion, he was thinking—
"What on earth could a woman just from England, living in a Melbourne back slum, have to tell Fitzgerald about Madge Frettlby?"
CHAPTER XV.
A WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE.
Bourke Street is always more crowded than Collins Street, especially at night. The theatres are there, and of course there is invariably a large crowd collected under the electric lights. Fashion does not come out after dark to walk about the streets, but prefers to roll along in her carriage; therefore the block in Bourke Street at night is slightly different from that of Collins Street in the day. The restless crowd which jostles and pushes along the pavements is grimy in the main, but the griminess is lightened in many places by the presence of the ladies of the demi-monde, who flaunt about in gorgeous robes of the brightest colors. These gay-plumaged birds of ill-omen collect at the corners of the streets, and converse loudly with their male acquaintances till desired by some white-helmeted policemen to move on, which they do, after a good deal of unnecessary chatter. Round the doors of the hotels a number of ragged and shabby-looking individuals collect, who lean against the walls criticizing the crowd, and waiting till some of their friends ask them to have a glass—a request they obey with suspicious alacrity. Further on, a crowd' of horsy-looking men are standing under the Opera House verandah, and one hears nothing but
