She directed the taxi to her son-in-law, Mr Torbey's place in Faraday Street, and told Bonfiglio to wait in the cab; she would be back soon. Half an hour later she pulled up beside the cab in Mr Torbey's Studebaker. Bonfiglio dismissed the taxi and took the wheel of the Studebaker. 'I can drive any car,' he boasted. They drove home. Nurse had been evasive all evening and now she was smug.

She had given him a lot to think about. He had known about her profession when they were married, but he had always chosen to remain ignorant of the particulars. To hear that this girl's death was, while not a common event, nevertheless one of a number... And he couldn't doubt that her promise to own all responsibility might mean exactly the opposite: he had served time in gaol for her convenience in their divorce. What, exactly, did she think 'his place' was?

14 November 1922
The 'Elsie' of the telegram was in fact Thomas Cook, who lived with his wife on a small farm near the Coughlans' in Hinnomunjie. He had been in Albury for a race meeting (he had horses there) when he received a letter from Bertha in Dandenong. The letter asked him to come to Melbourne and, when there, to send her a telegram from 'Elsie'.¹⁸ She said she was in trouble. Would he help? Cook knew what Bertha's 'trouble' was.¹⁹

Exhibit no. 8 - copy of telegram sent to deceased. Thomas Cook's cryptic telegram arrived too late for Bertha, and was received with puzzlement by her Aunt Rebecca.
PROV, VPRS 30/P, Unit 2001, Melbourne Supreme Court, Case number 151 of 15 March 1923

Cook had a friend in Melbourne, Richard Thomas, an engine driver on the provincial trains. When Thomas was in Albury, Cook asked him for the name of 'a respectable woman' - specifically, a nurse. He also asked for some money. Thomas said he didn't know any nurses, why would he? But he did know a respectable lady called Mrs Lilian Mueller. Cook said, 'Will you give me a letter of introduction?' Thomas fixed him up with a note, and the address of the Recreation Hotel in Spencer Street where Mrs Mueller worked. Cook left for Melbourne.

His telegram might have been too late, but at midday on 14 November he chanced to walk past the Bull and Mouth at the same time as Bertha was leaving. He thought she looked thicker around the middle, but it was probably just her dress, or his suspicion. Her thin, long face looked pallid and anguished. He took her back inside, into the bar. He said, 'What is your trouble? Why did you write to me? Where's Mr Lemmon [Bertha's ex-fiancé]?' ²⁰

She said that Lemmon had sold out of his business outside Omeo, and she had not heard from him lately. 'It does not concern you,' she said sourly. He gave up trying to elicit her story, and cut to the chase. 'I found a "respectable woman" for you,' he said. 'She will help you to find a nurse.'

'Don't do anything silly,' he warned, to which she replied curtly, 'It's not what you think it is.' Cook was doubtful, but the girl was alone and in trouble. He took pity on her. 'If it's for a good cause, then I can give you £10, but that is all. I don't have any more.' He told Bertha the address of the Recreation Hotel, then left for his lodgings at the Coffee Palace. Later that afternoon, he was strolling past the General Post Office in Bourke Street when he caught sight of Bertha, this time in the company of a stout, middle-aged woman of respectable, unfashionable dress. He nodded at Bertha and she acknowledged him; he kept walking.

Cook left for Albury the next day. He telephoned Mrs Mueller a couple of days later, to satisfy his conscience. Mrs Mueller assured him that 'the girl is all right'. He was content not to know details; his duty was done. When he went home to Hinnomunjie in early December, he called on John Coughlan: 'Have you heard from Bertha recently?' Coughlan said he hadn't. On 28 February 1923, Cook recalled to the Coroner: 'She told me it was for a good cause, and I thought she was going to a hospital to be delivered.'

20 November 1922
Bonfiglio and Nurse Mitchell left the Studebaker around the side of the house and came into the kitchen. Mrs Spicer, Mrs Milward and Queenie were still up; it was past midnight. Nurse Mitchell helped herself to coffee and joined them at the table. She looked sternly at Mrs Milward and said, 'Remember, you are my sister, and as a sister I expect you to stick to me in the trouble. Keep your mouth closed. Remember, don't say anything about this to anyone. If you do, you will go to gaol.' Bonfiglio had taken a seat at the end of the table, smiling grimly as she said this. 'People that talk can always be silenced,' Nurse Mitchell said.

Then she took a breath and continued in a gentler tone: 'Peg, I want you to come for a motor ride.' ²¹

The sheets around the corpse were stiff and conspicuous with old blood. Everything was awkward; the sheets wouldn't wrap neatly.²² Nurse Mitchell directed Bonfiglio to wrap it in fresh ones, and to fasten the shroud loosely with safety pins. They carried it to the car and placed it half on the floor between the front and back seats. 'The head had to be bent' to accommodate Nurse Mitchell and Mrs Milward in the back seat. Bonfiglio and Queenie were in the front. Bonfiglio drove up Whitehorse Road until they passed Melba's cottage.²³ They took a right turn after the post office, and then another left, down a narrowing, desolate road. It was around 4 am; not as dark as before. They reached Coldstream and pulled through a gate bearing the sign 'Yarra Bank'.