in since the proceedings had opened, and the place was now packed to
the door. Every eye was turned on Lauriston as he stood in the
witness-box, evidently thinking deeply. And in two pairs of eyes there
was deep anxiety: Melky was nervous and fidgety; Zillah was palpably
greatly concerned. But Lauriston looked at neither--and he finally
turned to Mr. Parminter with a candid glance.
"The rings are mine," he answered. "But--I don't know how I can prove
that they are!"
A suppressed murmur ran round the court--in the middle of it, the
Coroner handed the rings to a police official and motioned him to show
them to the jurymen. And Mr. Parminter's suave voice was heard again.
"You can't prove that they are yours."
"May I explain?" asked Lauriston. "Very well--there may be people, old
friends, who have seen those two rings in my mother's possession. But I
don't know where to find such people. If it's necessary, I can try."
"I should certainly try, if I were you," observed Mr. Parminter, drily.
"Now, when did those two rings come into your possession?"
"When my mother died," replied Lauriston.
"Where have you kept them?"
"Locked up in my trunk."
"Have you ever, at any time, or any occasion, shown them to any person?
Think!"
"No," answered Lauriston. "I can't say that I ever have."
"Not even at the time of your mother's death?"
"No! I took possession, of course, of all her effects. I don't remember
showing the rings to anybody."
"You kept them in your trunk until you took them out to raise money on
them?"
"Yes--that's so," admitted Lauriston.
"How much money had you--in the world--when you went to the pawnshop
yesterday afternoon?" demanded Mr. Parminter, with a sudden keen glance.
Lauriston flushed scarlet.
"If you insist on knowing," he said. "I'd just nothing."
There was another murmur in court--of pity from the sentimental ladies
in the public seats, who, being well acquainted with the pawnshops
themselves, and with the necessities which drove them there were
experiencing much fellow-feeling for the poor young man in the
witness-box. But Lauriston suddenly smiled--triumphantly.
"All the same," he added, glancing at Mr. Parminter. "I'd forty pounds,
in my letters, less than an hour afterwards. Ayscough knows that!"
Mr. Parminter paid no attention to this remark. He had been whispering
to the police inspector, and now he turned to the Coroner.
"I should like this witness to stand down for a few minutes, sir," he
said. "I wish to have Miss Wildrose recalled."
The Coroner gently motioned Zillah to go back to the witness-box.
CHAPTER TEN
MELKY INTERVENES
Zillah had listened to Lauriston's answers to Mr. Parminter's searching
questions with an anxiety which was obvious to those who sat near her.
The signs of that anxiety were redoubled as she walked slowly to the
box, and the glance she threw at the Coroner was almost appealing. But
the Coroner was looking at his notes, and Zillah was obliged to turn to
Mr. Parminter, whose accents became more mellifluous than ever as he
addressed her; Mr. Parminter, indeed, confronting Zillah might have
been taken for a kindly benevolent gentleman whose sole object was to
administer condolence and comfort. Few people in court, however, failed
to see the meaning of the questions which he began to put in the
suavest and softest of tones.
"I believe you assisted your late grandfather in his business?"
suggested Mr. Parminter.
"Just so! Now, how long had you assisted him in that way?"
"Ever since I left school--three years ago," replied Zillah.
"Three years--to be sure! And I believe you had resided with him for
some years before that?"
"Ever since I was a little girl," admitted Zillah.
"In fact, the late Mr. Multenius brought you up? Just so!--therefore,
of course, you would have some acquaintance with his business before
you left school?"
"Yes--he taught me a good deal about it."
"You were always about the place, of course--yes? And I may take it
that you gradually got a good deal of knowledge about the articles with
which your grandfather had to deal? To be sure--thank you. In fact, you
are entitled to regard yourself as something of an expert in precious
stones and metals?"
"I know a good deal about them," replied Zillah.
"You could tell the value of a thing as accurately as your grandfather?"
"Ordinary things--yes."
"And you were very well acquainted with your grandfather's stock?"
"Yes."
Mr. Parminter motioned the official who had charge of it to place the
tray of rings on the ledge of the witness-box.
"Oblige me by looking at that tray and the contents," he said. "You
recognize it, of course? Just so. Now, do you know where that tray was
when you went out, leaving your grandfather alone, yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes," replied Zillah, unhesitatingly. "On the table in the
back-parlour--where I saw it when I came in. My grandfather had taken
it out of the front window, so that he could polish the rings."
"Do you know how many rings it contained?"
"No. Perhaps twenty-five or thirty."
"They are, I see, laid loosely in the tray, which is velvet-lined. They
were always left like that? Just so. And you don't know how many there
were--nor how many there should be there, now? As a matter of fact,
there are twenty-seven rings there--you can't say that is the right
number?"
"No," answered Zillah, "and my grandfather couldn't have said, either.
A ring might be dropped into that tray--or a ring taken out. They are
all old rings."
"But--valuable?" suggested Mr. Parminter.
"Some--yes. Others are not very valuable."
"Now what do you mean by that word valuable? What, for instance, is the
value of the least valuable ring there, and what is that of the most
valuable?"
Zillah glanced almost indifferently at the tray before her.
"Some of these rings are worth no more than five pounds," she replied.
"Some--a few--are worth twenty to thirty pounds; one or two are worth
more."
"And--they are all old?"
"They are all of old-fashioned workmanship," said Zillah. "Made a good
many years ago, all of them. The diamonds, or pearls, are all right, of
course."
Mr. Parminter handed over the half-sheet of paper on which Lauriston's
rings had been exhibited to the Coroner and the jurymen.
"Look at those rings, if you please," he said quietly. "Are they of the
same sort, the same class, of rings as those in the tray?"
"Yes," admitted Zillah. "Something the same."
"What is the value of those rings--separately?" enquired Mr. Parminter.
"Please give us your professional opinion."
Zillah bent over the two rings for a while, turning them about.
"This is worth about thirty, and that about fifty pounds," she replied
at last.
"In other words, these two rings are similar in style and value to the
best rings in that tray?"
"Yes."
"Do you recognize those two rings?"
"No--not at all."
Mr. Parminter paused a moment, and caught the jury's attention with a
sharp glance of his eye before he turned again to the witness.
"Could you have recognized any of the rings in that tray?" he asked.
"No!" said Zillah. "I could not."
"Then you could not possibly say--one way or another, if those rings
were taken out of that tray?"
"No!"
"The fact is that all those rings--the two on the half-sheet of
notepaper, and twenty-seven on the tray--are all of the same class as
regards age and style--all very much of a muchness?"
"Yes," admitted Zillah.
"And you can't--you are on your oath remember!--you can't definitely
say that those two rings were not picked up from that tray, amongst the
others?"
"No," replied Zillah. "But I can't say that they were! And--I don't
believe they were. I don't believe they were our rings!"
Mr. Parminter smiled quietly and again swept the interested jurymen
with his quick glance.
Then he turned to Zillah with another set of questions.
"How long have you known the last witness--Andrew Lauriston?" he
enquired.
"Since one day last week," replied Zillah.
She had flushed at the mention of Lauriston's name, and Mr. Parminter
was quick to see it.
"How did you get to know him?" he continued.
"By his coming to the shop--on business."
"To pawn his watch, I believe?"
"Yes."
"You attended to him?"
"Yes."
"You had never seen him before?"
"No."
"Ever seen him since?"
Zillah hesitated for a moment.
"I saw him--accidentally--in Kensington Gardens, on Sunday," she
answered at last.
"Have any conversation with him?"
"Yes," admitted Zillah.
"About--pawnbroking?"
"No!" retorted Zillah. "About his work--writing."
"Did he tell you he was very hard up?"
"I knew that!" said Zillah. "Hadn't he pawned his watch?"
"Perhaps--you seem to be a very good business woman--perhaps you gave
him some advice?"
"Yes, I did! I advised him, as long as he'd anything on which he could
raise money, not to let himself go without money in his pocket."
"Excellent advice!" said Mr. Parminter, with a smile.
He leaned forward, looking at his witness more earnestly. "Now, did
Lauriston, on Sunday, or when you saw him before, ever mention to you
that he possessed two rings of some value?"
"No," replied Zillah.
Mr. Parminter paused, hesitated, suddenly bowed to the Coroner, and
dropping back into his seat, pulled out his snuff-box. And the Coroner,
motioning Zillah to leave the witness-box, interrupted Mr. Parminter in
the midst of a pinch of snuff.
"I think it will be best to adjourn at this stage," he said. "It is
obvious that we can't finish this today." He turned to the jurymen. "I
propose to adjourn this enquiry for a week, gentlemen," he went on. "In
the meantime--"
His attention was suddenly arrested by Melky Rubinstein, who, after
much uneasiness and fidgeting, rose from his seat and made his way to
the foot of the table, manifestly desiring to speak.
"What is it?" asked the Coroner. "Who are you? Oh!--the witness who
identified the body. Yes?"
"Mr. Coroner!" said Melky, in his most solemn tones. "This here inquest
ain't being conducted right, sir! I don't mean by you--but these here
gentlemen, the police, and Mr. Parminter there, is going off on a wrong
scent. I know what they're after, and they're wrong! They're
suppressing evidence, Mr. Coroner." Melky turned on Ayscough. "What
about the clue o' this here old book?" he demanded. "Why ain't you
bringing that forward? I'm the late Daniel Multenius's nearest male
relative, and I say that clue's a deal more important nor what we've
been hearing all the morning. What about that book, now, Mr. Ayscough?
Come on!--what about it!--and its owner?"
"What is this?" demanded the Coroner. "If there is anything--"
"Anything, sir!" exclaimed Melky. "There's just this--between the time
that my cousin there, Miss Zillah Wildrose left the old man alive, and
the time when Mr. Lauriston found him dead, somebody came into the shop
as left a valuable book behind him on the parlour table, which book,
according to all the advertisements in the morning papers, is the
property of Mr. Spencer Levendale, the Member of Parliament, as lives
in Sussex Square. Why ain't that matter brought up? Why ain't Mr.
Levendale brought here? I ask you, Mr. Coroner, to have it seen into!
There's more behind it--"
The Coroner held up a hand and beckoned the police inspector and Mr.
Parminter to approach his desk; a moment later, Ayscough was summoned.
And Lauriston, watching the result of this conference, was quickly
aware that the Coroner was not particularly pleased; he suddenly turned
on the inspector with a question which was heard by every one in court.
"Why was not the matter of the book put before the Court at first?" he
demanded. "It seems to me that there may be a most important clue in
it. The fact of the book's having been found should most certainly have
been mentioned, at once. I shall adjourn for a week, from today, and
you will produce the book and bring Mr. Spencer Levendale here as a
witness. This day week, gentlemen!"
Melky Rubinstein turned, whispered a hurried word to Zillah and Mrs.
Goldmark, and then, seizing Lauriston by the elbow, drew him quickly
away from the court.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE BACK DOOR
Once outside in the street, Melky turned down the nearest side-street,
motioning Lauriston to follow him. Before they had gone many yards he
edged himself close to his companion's side, at the same time throwing
a cautious glance over his own shoulder.
"There's one o' them blooming detectives after us!" said Melky. "But
that's just what's to be expected, mister!--they'll never let you out
o' their sight until one of two things happen!"
"What things?" asked Lauriston.
"Either you'll have to prove, beyond all doubt, that them rings is
yours, and was your poor mother's before you," answered Melky, "or we
shall have to put a hand on the chap that scragged my uncle. That's a
fact! Mister!--will you put your trust and confidence in me, and do
what I tell you? It's for your own good."
"I don't know that I could do better," responded Lauriston, after a
moment's thought. "You're a right good fellow, Melky--I'm sure of that!
What do you want me to do?"
Melky pulled out a handsome gold watch and consulted it.
"It's dinner-time," he said. "Come round to Mrs. Goldmark's and get
some grub. I'll tell you what to do while we're eating. I've been
thinking things over while that there Parminter was badgering poor
Zillah, and s'elp me, there only is one thing for you to do, and you'd
best to do it sharp! But come on to Praed Street--don't matter if this
here chap behind does shadow you--I can get the better of him as easy
as I could sell this watch! It 'ud take all the detectives in London to
beat me, if I put my mind to it."
They were at Mrs. Goldmark's eating-house in five minutes: Melky, who
knew all the ins and outs of that establishment, conducted Lauriston
into an inner room, and to a corner wherein there was comparative
privacy, and summoned a waitress. Not until he and his companion were
half way through their meal did he refer to the business which was in
his thoughts: then he leaned close to Lauriston and began to talk.
"Mister!" he whispered. "Where do you come from?"
"Peebles," answered Lauriston. "You heard me tell them so, in that
court."
"I'm no scholar," said Melky. "I ain't no idea where Peebles is, except
that it's in Scotland. Is it far into that country, or where is it?"
"Not far across the Border," replied Lauriston.
"Get there in a few hours, I reckon?" asked Melky. "You could? Very
well, then, mister, you take my tip--get there! Get there--quick!"
Lauriston laid down his knife and fork and stared.
"Whatever for?" he exclaimed.
"To find somebody--anybody--as can prove that those rings are yours!"
answered Melky solemnly and emphatically. "Tain't no use denying
it--you're in a dangerous position. The police always goes for the
straightest and easiest line. Their line was clear enough, just
now--Parminter give it away! They've a theory--they always have a
theory--and when once police gets a theory, nothing can drive it out o'
their heads--their official heads, anyway. What they're saying, and
what they'll try to establish, is this here. That you were hard up,
down to less than your last penny. You went to Mr. Multenius's--you
peeked and peered through the shop window and saw him alone, or,
perhaps, saw the place empty. You went in--you grabbed a couple o'
rings--he interrupted you--you scragged him! That's their line--and
Zillah can't swear that those rings which you claim to be yours aren't
her grandfather's, and up to now you can't prove that they're yours and
were once your mother's! Mister!--be off to this here Peebles at
once--immediate!--and find somebody, some old friend, as can swear that
he or she--never mind which--knows them rings to be your property
beyond a shadow of doubt! Bring that friend back--bring him if he has
to come in an invalid carriage!"
Lauriston was so much struck by Melky's argument and advice that it
needed no more explanations to convince him of its wisdom.
"But--how could I get away'" he asked. "There'll be that detective chap
hanging about outside--I know I've been shadowed ever since last
evening! They'll never let me get away from London, however much I
wish. The probability is that if they saw me going to a railway station
they'd arrest me."
"My own opinion, mister, after what's taken place this morning, is that
if you stop here, you'll be arrested before night," remarked Melky
coolly. "I'd lay a tenner on it! But you ain't going to stop--you must
go! There must be somebody in the old spot as can swear that them two
rings o' yours is family property, and you must find 'em and bring 'em,
if you value your neck. As to slipping the police, I'll make that right
for you, proper! Now, then, what money have you about you, Mr.
Lauriston?"
"Plenty!" answered Lauriston. "Nearly forty pounds--the money I got
last night."
"Will you do exactly what I tell you?" asked Melky, "And do it at once,
without any hesitation, any hanging about, any going home to Mother
Flitwick's, or anything o' that sort?"
"Yes!" replied Lauriston. "I'm so sure you're right, that I will."
"Then you listen to me--careful," said Melky. "See that door in the
corner? As soon as you've finished that pudding, slip out o' that door.
You'll find yourself in a little yard. Go out o' that yard, and you'll
find yourself in a narrow passage. Go straight down the passage, and
you'll come out in Market Street. Go straight down Southwick
Street--you know it--to Oxford and Cambridge Terrace, and you'll see a
cab-rank right in front of you. Get into a taxi, and tell the fellow to
drive you to Piccadilly Circus. Leave him there--take a turn round so's
he won't see what you do--then get into another taxi, and drive to St.
Pancras Church. Get out there--and foot it to King's Cross Station.
You'll catch the 3.15 for the North easy--and after you're once in it,
you're all right. Get to Peebles!--that's the thing! S'elp me, Mr.
Lauriston, it's the only thing!"
Five minutes later, there being no one but themselves in the little
room, Lauriston gave Melky a hearty grip of the hand, walked out of the
door in the corner, and vanished. And Melky, left alone, pulled out his
cigarette case, and began to smoke, calmly and quietly. When the
waitress came back, he whispered a word or two to her; the waitress
nodded with full comprehension--for everybody knew Melky at Goldmark's,
and if the waitresses wanted a little jewellery now and then, he let
them have it at cost price.
"So you can give me the checks for both," said Melky. "I'll pay 'em."
But Melky let three-quarters of an hour elapse before he went to the
desk in the outer shop. He sipped a cup of coffee; he smoked several
cigarettes; it was quite a long time before he emerged into Praed
Street, buttoning his overcoat. And without appearing to see anything,
he at once saw the man who had followed Lauriston and himself from the
Coroner's Court. Being almost preternaturally observant, he also saw
the man start with surprise--but Melky showed, and felt, no surprise,
when the watcher came after him.
"You know me, Mr. Rubinstein," he said, almost apologetically. "You
know, of course, we're keeping an eye on that young Scotch
fellow--we've got to! He went in there, to Goldmark's, with you? Is he
still there?"
"Strikes me you ain't up to your job!" remarked Melky, coolly. "He went
out, three-quarters of an hour ago. Gone home, I should say."
The man turned away, evidently puzzled, but just as evidently taking
Melky's word. He went off in the direction of Star Street, while Melky
strolled along to the pawnbroker's shop. It was necessary that he
should tell his cousin of what he had done.
Mrs. Goldmark was still with Zillah--Melky unfolded his story to the
two of them. Zillah heard it with unfeigned relief; Mrs. Goldmark, who,
being a young and pretty widow, was inclined to sentiment, regarded
Melky with admiration.
"My!--if you ain't the cute one, Mr. Rubinstein!" she exclaimed,
clapping her plump hands. "As for me, now, I wouldn't have thought of
that in a hundred years! But it's you that's the quick mind."
Melky laid a finger to the side of his nose.
"Do you know what, Mrs. Goldmark?" he said. "I ain't going to let them
police fellows put a hand on young Lauriston, not me! I've my own ideas
about this here business--wait till I put my hand on somebody, see?
Don't it all come out clear to you?--if I find the right man, then
there ain't no more suspicion attaching to this young chap, ain't it?
Oh, I'm no fool, Mrs. Goldmark; don't you make no mistake!"
"I'm sure!" asserted Mrs. Goldmark. "Yes, indeed--you don't carry your
eyes in your head for nothing, Mr. Rubinstein!"
Zillah, who had listened abstractedly to these compliments suddenly
turned on her cousin.
"What are you going to do then, Melky?" she demanded. "What's all this
business about that book? And what steps are you thinking of taking?"
But Melky rose and, shaking his head, buttoned up his overcoat as if he
were buttoning in a multitude of profound secrets.
"What you got to do, just now, Zillah--and Mrs. Goldmark too," he
answered, "is to keep quiet tongues about what I done with young
Lauriston. There ain't to be a word said! If any o' them police come
round here, asking about him, you don't know nothing--see? You ain't
seen him since he walked out o' that court with me--see? Which, of
course--you ain't. And as for the rest, you leave that to yours truly!"
"Oh, what it is to have a mind!" exclaimed Mrs. Goldmark "I ain't no
mind, beyond managing my business."
"Don't you show your mind in managing that?" said Melky, admiringly.
"What do I always say of you, Mrs. Goldmark? Don't I always say you're
the smartest business woman in all Paddington? Ain't that having a
mind? Oh, I think you've the beautifullest mind, Mrs. Goldmark!"
With this compliment Melky left Mrs. Goldmark and Zillah, and went away
to his lodgings. He was aware of a taxi-cab drawn up at Mrs. Flitwick's
door as he went up the street; inside Mrs. Flitwick's shabby hall he
found that good woman talking to a stranger--a well-dressed young
gentleman, who was obviously asking questions. Mrs. Flitwick turned to
Melky with an air of relief.
"Perhaps you can tell this gentleman where Mr. Lauriston is, Mr.
Rubinstein?" she said. "I ain't seen him since he went out first thing
this morning."
Melky looked the stranger over--narrowly. Then he silently beckoned him
outside the house, and walked him out of earshot.
"You ain't the friend from Scotland?" asked Melky. "Him what sent the
bank-note, last night?"
"Yes!" assented the stranger. "I see you're aware of that. My name is
Purdie--John Purdie. Where is Lauriston? I particularly want to see
him."
Melky tapped the side of his nose, and whispered.
"He's on his way to where you come from, mister!" he said. "Here!--I
know who you are, and you'll know me in one minute. Come up to my
sitting-room!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FRIEND FROM PEEBLES
Melky, as principal lodger in Mrs. Flitwick's establishment, occupied
what that lady was accustomed to describe as the front drawing-room
floor--a couple of rooms opening one into the other. Into one of these,
furnished as a sitting-room, he now led Lauriston's friend, hospitably
invited him to a seat, and took a quiet look at him. He at once sized
up Mr. John Purdie for what he was--a well-to-do, well-dressed,
active-brained young business man, probably accustomed to controlling
and dealing with important affairs. And well satisfied with this
preliminary inspection, he immediately plunged into the affair of the
moment.
"Mister," began Melky, pulling up a chair to Purdie's side, and
assuming a tone and manner of implicit confidence. "I've heard of you.
Me and Mr. Lauriston's close friends. My name's Mr. Rubinstein--Mr.
Melchior Rubinstein, commonly called Melky. I know all about
you--you're the friend that Lauriston asked for a bit of help to see
him through, like--ain't it? Just so--and you sent him twenty pounds to
be going on with--which he got, all right, last night. Also, same time,
he got another twenty quid for two of his lit'ry works--stories,
mister. Mister!--I wish he'd got your money and the other money just an
hour before it come to hand! S'elp me!--if them there letters had only
come in by one post earlier, it 'ud ha' saved a heap o' trouble!"