Both were in evening dress, but the deceased had no overcoat on, while the other wore a short covert coat of a light fawn colour, which was open. As Royston drove up, the gentleman in the light coat said, “Look here cabby, here’s some fellow awfully tight, you’d better take him home!”

‘Royston then asked him if the drunken man was his friend, but this the other denied, saying that he had just picked him up from the footpath, and did not know him from Adam. At this moment the deceased turned his face up to the light of the lamp under which both were standing, and the other seemed to recognise him, for he recoiled a pace, letting the drunken man fall in a heap on the pavement, and gasping out “You!” he turned on his heel, and walked rapidly away down Russell Street in the direction of Bourke Street.

‘Royston was staring after him, and wondering at his strange conduct, when he was recalled to himself by the voice of the deceased, who had struggled to his feet, and was holding on to the lamp-post, swaying to and fro. “I wan’ g’ome,” he said in a thick voice, “St Kilda.” He then tried to get into the cab, but was too drunk to do so, and finally sat down again on the pavement. Seeing this Royston got down, and lifting him up, helped him into the cab with some considerable difficulty. The deceased fell back into the cab, and seemed to drop off to sleep; so, after closing the door, Royston turned to remount his driving-seat, when he found the gentleman in the light coat whom he had seen holding up the deceased, close to his elbow. Royston said, “Oh you’ve come back,” and the other answered, “Yes, I’ve changed my mind, and will see him home.” As he said this he opened the door of the cab, stepped in beside the deceased, and told Royston to drive down to St Kilda. Royston, who was glad that the friend of the deceased had come to look after him, drove as he had been directed, but near the Church of England Grammar School, on the St Kilda Road, the gentleman in the light coat called out to him to stop. He did so, and the gentleman got out of the cab, closing the door after him.

‘“He won’t let me take him home,” he said, “so I’ll just walk back to the city, and you can drive him to St Kilda.”

‘“What street, sir?” asked Royston.

‘“Grey Street, I fancy,” said the other, “but my friend will direct you when you get to the Junction.”

‘“Ain’t he too much on, sir?” said Royston, dubiously.

‘“Oh, no! I think he’ll be able to tell you where he lives—it’s Grey Street or Acland Street I fancy, I don’t know which.”

‘He then opened the door of the cab and looked in, “Goodnight, old man,” he said—the other apparently did not answer, for the gentleman in the light coat, shrugging his shoulders, and muttering “sulky brute,” closed the door again. He then gave Royston half a sovereign, lit a cigarette, and after making a few remarks about the beauty of the night, walked off quickly in the direction of Melbourne. Royston drove down to the Junction, and having stopped there according to his instructions he asked his fare several times where he was to drive him to. Receiving no answer, and thinking that the deceased was too drunk to answer, he got down from his seat, opened the door of the cab, and found the deceased lying back in the corner with a handkerchief across his mouth. He put out his hand with the intention of rousing him, thinking that he had gone to sleep, when on touching him the deceased fell forward, and on examination, to his horror, he found that he was quite dead.

‘Alarmed at what had taken place, and suspecting the gentleman in the light coat, he drove to the police station at St Kilda, and there made the above report. The body of the deceased was taken out of the cab and brought into the station, a doctor being sent for at once. On his arrival, however, he found that life was quite extinct, and also discovered that the handkerchief which was tied lightly over the mouth was saturated with chloroform. He had no hesitation in stating that from the way in which the handkerchief was placed, and the presence of chloroform, that a murder had been committed, and from all appearances the deceased died easily, and without a struggle.

‘The deceased is a slender man, of medium height, with a dark complexion and is dressed in evening dress, which will render identification difficult, as it is a costume which has not any distinctive mark to render it noticeable. There were no papers nor cards found on the deceased from which his name could be discovered, and the clothing was not marked in any way. The handkerchief, however, which was tied across his mouth, was of white silk, and marked in one of the corners with the letters “O. W.” in red silk. The assassin, of course, may have used his own handkerchief to commit the crime, so that if the initials are those of his name they may ultimately lead to his detection. There will be an inquest held on the body of the deceased this morning, when, no doubt, some evidence may be elicited which may solve the mystery.’

In Monday morning’s issue of the Argus the following article appeared with reference to the matter:—

‘The following additional evidence has been obtained which may throw some light on the mysterious murder in a hansom cab of which we gave a full description in Saturday’s issue:—“Another hansom cabman called at the police office and gave a clue which will, no doubt, prove of value to the detectives in their search after the murderer. He states that he was driving up the St Kilda Road on Friday morning about half past one o’clock, when he was hailed by a gentleman in a light coat who stepped into the cab and told him to drive to Powlett Street in East Melbourne. He did so, and after paying him, the gentleman got out at the corner of Wellington Parade and Powlett Street and walked slowly up Powlett Street while the cab drove back to town.”

Here all clue ends, but there can be no doubt in the minds of our readers as to the identity of the man in the light coat who got out of Royston’s cab on the St Kilda Road with the one who entered the other cab and alighted therefrom at Powlett Street. There could have been no struggle, as the cabman Royston would surely have heard the noise had any taken place. The supposition is, therefore, that the deceased was too drunk to make any resistance, and the other, watching his opportunity, placed the handkerchief saturated with chloroform over the mouth of his victim, and after a few ineffectual struggles the latter would relapse into a state of stupor from such inhalation. The man in the light coat, judging from his conduct before getting into the cab, appears to have known the deceased, though from the circumstance of his walking away on recognition and returning again shows that his attitude towards the deceased was not altogether a friendly one.

‘The difficulty is where to start from in the search after the author of what appears to be a deliberate murder, as the deceased seems to be unknown, and his presumed murderer has escaped. But it is impossible that the body can remain long without being identified by someone, as though Melbourne is a large city, yet it is neither Paris or London, where a man can disappear in a crowd and never be heard of again. The first thing to be done is to establish the identity of the deceased, and then, no doubt, a clue will be obtained leading to the detection of the man in the light coat who appears to have been the perpetrator of the crime.

‘It is of the utmost importance that the mystery in which the crime is shrouded should be cleared up, not only in the interests of justice, but also in those of the public—taking place as it did, in a public conveyance, and in the public street. To think that the author of such a crime is at present at large walking in our midst, and perhaps preparing for the committal of another, is enough to shake the strongest nerves. According to James Payne, the well-known novelist, fact is sometimes in the habit of poaching on the domain of fiction, and, curiously enough, this case is a proof of the truth of his saying.