Levendale had received Ayscough and his companions into a small room
that opened out of it.
Purdie, looking round him, found that he was standing in a laboratory,
furnished with chemical apparatus of the latest descriptions.
Implements and appliances were on all sides; there were rows of bottles
on the shelves; a library of technical books filled a large book-case;
everything in the place betokened the pursuit of a scientific
investigator. And Purdie's keen sense of smell immediately noted the
prevalent atmosphere of drugs and chemicals.
"It was here that I saw Mr. Levendale last night, sir," said the
butler. "He called me in. He was measuring something from one of those
bottles into a small phial, Mr. Purdie--he put the phial in his
waistcoat pocket. Look at those bottles, sir--you'll see they all
contain poison!--you can tell that by the make of 'em."
Purdie glanced at the shelf which the butler indicated. The bottles
ranged on it were all of blue glass, and all triangular in shape, and
each bore a red label with the word _Poison_ prominently displayed.
"Odd!" he said. "You've some idea?" he went on, looking closely at the
butler. "Something on your mind about this? What is it?"
The butler shook his head.
"Well, sir," he answered, "when you see a gentleman measuring poison
into a phial, which he carefully puts in his pocket, and when he goes
out, and when he never comes back, and when you can't hear of him,
anywhere! why, what are you to think? Looks strange, now, doesn't it,
Mr. Purdie?"
"I don't know Mr. Levendale well enough to say," replied Purdie. "There
may be some quite good reason for Mr. Levendale's absence. He'd no
trouble of any sort, had he?"
"He seemed a bit upset, once or twice, yesterday--and the night
before," said the butler. "I noticed it--in little things. Well!--I
can't make it out, sir. You see, I've been with him ever since he came
back to England--some years now--and I know his habits, thoroughly.
However, we can only wait--I believe Miss Bennett sent for you, Mr.
Purdie?"
"Yes," said Purdie. "She did."
"This way, sir," said the butler. "Miss Bennett's alone, now--the
children have just gone out with their nurses."
He led Purdie through the house to a sitting-room looking out on the
garden of the Square, and ushered him into the governess's presence.
"I've told Mr. Purdie all about it, miss," he said, confidentially.
"Perhaps you'll talk it over with him! I can't think of anything more
to do--until we hear something."
Left alone, Purdie and Elsie Bennett looked at each other as they shook
hands. She was a fair, slender girl, naturally shy and retiring; she
was manifestly shy at renewing her acquaintance with Purdie, and Purdie
himself, conscious of his own feelings towards her, felt a certain
embarrassment and awkwardness.
"You sent for me," he said brusquely. "I came the instant I got your
note. Grayson kept me talking downstairs. You're bothered--about Mr.
Levendale?"
"Yes," she answered. Then she pointed to a chair. "Won't you sit down?"
she said, and took a chair close by. "I sent for you, because--it may
seem strange, but it's a fact!--I couldn't think of anybody else! It
seemed so fortunate that you were in London--and close by. I felt
that--that I could depend on you."
"Thank you," said Purdie. "Well--you can! And what is it?"
"Grayson's told you about Mr. Levendale's going out last night, and
never coming back, nor sending any message?" she continued. "As Grayson
says, considering Mr. Levendale's habits, that is certainly very
strange! But--I want to tell you something beyond that--I must tell
somebody! And I know that if I tell you you'll keep it secret--until,
or unless you think you ought to tell it to--the police!"
Purdie started.
"The police!" he exclaimed. "What is it?"
Elsie Bennett turned to a table, and picked up a couple of newspapers.
"Have you read this Praed Street mystery affair?" she asked. "I mean
the account of the inquest?"
"Every word--and heard more, besides," answered Purdie. "That young
fellow, Andie Lauriston, is an old schoolmate and friend of mine. I
came here yesterday to see him, and found him plunged into this
business. Of course, he's absolutely innocent."
"Has he been arrested?" asked Elsie, almost eagerly.
"No!" replied Purdie. "He's gone away--to get evidence that those rings
which are such a feature of the case are really his and were his
mother's."
"Have you noticed these particulars, at the end of the inquest, about
the book which was found in the pawnbroker's parlour?" she went on.
"The Spanish manuscript?"
"Said to have been lost by Mr. Levendale in an omnibus," answered
Purdie. "Yes! What of it?"
The girl bent nearer to him.
"It seems a dreadful thing to say," she whispered, "but I must tell
somebody--I can't, I daren't keep it to myself any longer! Mr.
Levendale isn't telling the truth about that book!"
Purdie involuntarily glanced at the door--and drew his chair nearer to
Elsie's.
"You're sure of that?" he whispered. "Just so! Now--in what way?"
"It says here," answered Elsie, tapping the newspapers with her finger,
"that Mr. Levendale lost this book in a 'bus, which he left at the
corner of Chapel Street, and that he was so concerned about the loss
that he immediately sent advertisements off to every morning newspaper
in London. The last part of that is true--the first part is not true!
Mr. Levendale did not lose his book--he did not leave it in the 'bus!
I'm sorry to have to say it--but all that is invention on his
part--why, I don't know."
Purdie had listened to this with a growing feeling of uneasiness and
suspicion. The clouds centring round Levendale were certainly
thickening.
"Now, just tell me--how do you know all this?" he asked. "Rely on
me--to the full!"
"I'll tell you," replied Elsie, readily. "Because, about four o'clock
on the afternoon of the old man's death, I happened to be at the corner
of Chapel Street. I saw Mr. Levendale get out of the 'bus. He did not
see me. He crossed Edgware Road and walked rapidly down Praed Street.
And--he was carrying that book in his hand!"
"You're sure it was that book?" asked Purdie.
"According to the description given in this account and in the
advertisement--yes," she answered. "I noticed the fine binding.
Although Mr. Levendale didn't see me--there were a lot of people
about--I was close to him. I am sure it was the book described here."
"And--he went in the direction of the pawnshop?" said Purdie. "What on
earth does it all mean? What did he mean by advertising for the book,
when--"
Before he could say more, a knock came at the door, and the butler
entered, bearing an open telegram in his hand. His face wore an
expression of relief.
"Here's a wire from Mr. Levendale, Miss Bennett," he said. "It's
addressed to me. He says, 'Shall be away from home, on business, for a
few days. Let all go on as usual.' That's better, miss! But," continued
Grayson, glancing at Purdie, "it's still odd--for do you see, sir,
where that wire has been sent from? Spring Street--close by!"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CONFERENCE
Purdie was already sufficiently acquainted with the geography of the
Paddington district to be aware of the significance of Grayson's
remark. The Spring Street Post Office, at which Levendale's wire had
been handed in, was only a few minutes' walk from the house. It stood,
in fact, between Purdie's hotel and Sussex Square, and he had passed it
on his way to Levendale's. It was certainly odd that a man who was
within five minutes' walk of his own house should send a telegram
there, when he had nothing to do but walk down one street and turn the
corner of another to give his message in person.
"Sent off, do you see, sir, twenty minutes ago," observed the butler,
pointing to some figures in the telegram form. "So--Mr. Levendale must
have been close by--then!"
"Not necessarily," remarked Purdie. "He may have sent a messenger with
that wire--perhaps he himself was catching a train at Paddington."
Grayson shook his head knowingly.
"There's a telegraph office on the platform there, sir," he answered.
"However--there it is, and I suppose there's no more to be done."
He left the room again, and Purdie looked at the governess. She, too,
looked at him: there was a question in the eyes of both.
"What do you make of that?" asked Purdie after a pause.
"What do you make of it?" she asked in her turn.
"It looks odd--but there may be a reason for it," he answered. "Look
here!--I'm going to ask you a question. What do you know of Mr.
Levendale? You've been governess to his children for some time, haven't
you?"
"For six months before he left Cape Town, and ever since we all came to
England, three years ago," she answered. "I know that he's very rich,
and a very busy man, and a member of Parliament, and that he goes to
the City a great deal--and that's all! He's a very reserved man,
too--of course, he never tells me anything. I've never had any
conversation with him excepting about the children."
"You're upset about this book affair?" suggested Purdie.
"Why should Mr. Levendale say that he left that book in the omnibus,
when I myself saw him leave the 'bus with it in his hand, and go down
Praed Street with it?" she asked. "Doesn't it look as if he were the
person who left it in that room--where the old man was found lying
dead?"
"That, perhaps, is the very reason why he doesn't want people to know
that he did leave it there," remarked Purdie, quietly. "There's more in
all this than lies on the surface. You wanted my advice? Very well
don't say anything to anybody till you see me again. I must go
now--there's a man waiting for me at my hotel. I may call again, mayn't
I?"
"Do!" she said, giving him her hand. "I am bothered about this--it's
useless to deny it--and I've no one to talk to about it. Come--any
time."
Purdie repressed a strong desire to stay longer, and to turn the
conversation to more personal matters. But he was essentially a
business man, and the matters of the moment seemed to be critical. So
he promised to return, and then hurried back to his hotel--to find
Melky Rubinstein pacing up and down outside the entrance.
Purdie tapped Melky's shoulder and motioned him to walk along Praed
Street.
"Look here!" he said. "I want you to take me to see your cousin--and
the pawnshop. We must have a talk--you said your cousin's a good
business woman. She's the sort we can discuss business with, eh?"
"My cousin Zillah Wildrose, mister," answered Melky, solemnly, "is one
of the best! She's a better headpiece on her than what I have--and
that's saying a good deal. I was going to suggest you should come
there. Talk!--s'elp me, Mr. Purdie, it strikes me there'll be a lot of
that before we've done. What about this here affair of last
night?--I've just seen Mr. Ayscough, passing along--he's told me all
about it. Do you think it's anything to do with our business?"
"Can't say," answered Purdie. "Wait till we can discuss matters with
your cousin."
Melky led the way to the side-door of the pawnshop. Since the old man's
death, the whole establishment had been closed--Zillah had refused to
do any business until her grandfather's funeral was over. She received
her visitors in the parlour where old Daniel had been found dead: after
a moment's inspection of her, and the exchange of a few remarks about
Lauriston, Purdie suggested that they should all sit down and talk
matters over.
"Half-a-mo!" said Melky. "If we're going to have a cabinet council,
mister, there's a lady that I want to bring into it--Mrs. Goldmark. I
know something that Mrs. Goldmark can speak to--I've just been
considering matters while I was waiting for you, Mr. Purdie, and I'm
going to tell you and Zillah, and Mrs. Goldmark, of a curious fact that
I know of. I'll fetch her--and while I'm away Zillah'll show you that
there book what was found there."
Purdie looked with interest at the Spanish manuscript which seemed to
be a factor of such importance.
"I suppose you never saw this before?" he asked, as Zillah laid it on
the table before him. "And you're certain it wasn't in the place when
you went out that afternoon, leaving your grandfather alone?"
"That I'm positive of," answered Zillah. "I never saw it in my life
until my attention was drawn to it after he was dead. That book was
brought in here during my absence, and it was neither bought nor
pawned--that's absolutely certain! Of course, you know whose book it
is?"
"Mr. Spencer Levendale's," answered Purdie. "Yes I know all those
particulars--and about his advertisements for it, and a little more.
And I want to discuss all that with you and your cousin. This Mrs.
Goldmark--she's to be fully trusted?"
Zillah replied that Mrs. Goldmark was worthy of entire confidence, and
an old friend, and Melky presently returning with her, Purdie suggested
they should all sit down and talk--informally and in strict privacy.
"You know why I'm concerning myself in this?" he said, looking round at
his three companions. "I'm anxious that Andie Lauriston should be fully
and entirely cleared! I've great faith in him--he's beginning what I
believe will be a successful career, and it would be a terrible thing
if any suspicion rested on him. So I want, for his sake, to thoroughly
clear up this mystery about your relative's death."
"Mister!" said Melky, in his most solemn tones. "Speaking for my cousin
there, and myself, there ain't nothing what we wouldn't do to clear Mr.
Lauriston! We ain't never had one moment's suspicion of him from the
first, knowing the young fellow as we do. So we're with you in that
matter, ain't we, Zillah?"
"Mr. Purdie feels sure of that," agreed Zillah, with a glance at
Lauriston's old schoolmate. "There's no need to answer him, Melky."
"I am sure!" said Purdie. "So--let's put our wits together--we'll
consider the question of approaching the police when we've talked
amongst ourselves. Now--I want to ask you some very private questions.
They spring out of that rare book there. There's no doubt that book
belongs to Mr. Levendale. Do either of you know if Mr. Levendale had
any business relations with the late Mr. Rubinstein?"
Zillah shook her head.
"None!--that I know of," she answered. "I've helped my grandfather in
this business for some time. I never heard him mention Mr. Levendale.
Mr. Levendale never came here, certainly."
Melky shook his head, too.
"When Mr. Ayscough, and Mr. Lauriston, and me went round to Sussex
Square, to see Mr. Levendale about that advertisement for his book," he
remarked, "he said he'd never heard of Daniel Multenius. That's a fact,
mister!"
"Had Mr. Multenius any private business relations of which he didn't
tell you?" asked Purdie, turning to Zillah.
"He might have had," admitted Zillah. "He was out a good deal. I don't
know what he might do when he went out. He was--close. We--it's no use
denying it--we don't know all about it. His solicitor's making some
enquiries--I expect him here, any time, today."
"It comes to this," observed Purdie. "Your grandfather met his death by
violence, the man who attacked him came in here during your absence.
The question I want to get solved is--was the man who undoubtedly left
that book here the guilty man? If so--who is he?"
Melky suddenly broke the silence which followed upon this question.
"I'm going to tell something that I ain't told to nobody as yet!" he
said. "Not even to Zillah. After this here parlour had been cleared, I
took a look round. I've very sharp eyes, Mr. Purdie. I found this
here--half-hidden under the rug there, where the poor old man had been
lying." He pulled out the platinum solitaire, laid it on the palm of
one hand, and extended the hand to Mrs. Goldmark. "You've seen the like
of that before, ain't you?" asked Melky.
"Mercy be upon us!" gasped Mrs. Goldmark, starting in her seat. "I've
the fellow to it lying in my desk!"
"And it was left on a table in your restaurant," continued Melky, "by a
man what looked like a Colonial party--I know!--I saw it by accident in
your place the other night, and one o' your girls told me. Now then,
Mr. Purdie, here's a bit more of puzzlement--and perhaps a clue. These
here platinum solitaire cuff-links are valuable--they're worth--well,
I'd give a good few pounds for the pair. Now who's the man who lost one
in this here parlour--right there!--and the other in Mrs. Goldmark's
restaurant? For--it's a pair! There's no doubt about that,
mister!--there's that same curious and unusual device on each.
Mister!--them studs has at some time or other been made to special
order!"
Purdie turned the solitaire over, and looked at Zillah.
"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" he asked.
"Never!" said Zillah. "It's as Melky says--specially made."
"And you have its fellow--lost in your restaurant?" continued Purdie,
turning to Mrs. Goldmark.
"Its very marrow," assented Mrs. Goldmark, fervently, "is in my desk!
It was dropped on one of our tables a few afternoons ago by a man who,
as Mr. Rubinstein says, looked like one of those Colonials. Leastways,
my waitress, Rosa, she picked it up exactly where he'd been sitting. So
I put it away till he comes in again, you see. Oh, yes!"
"Has he been in again?" asked Purdie.
"Never was he inside my door before!" answered Mrs. Goldmark
dramatically. "Never has he been inside it since! But--I keep his
property, just so. In my desk it is!"
Purdie considered this new evidence in silence for a moment.
"The question now is--this," he said presently. "Is the man who seems
undoubtedly to have dropped those studs the same man who brought that
book in here? Or, had Mr. Multenius two callers here during your
absence, Miss Wildrose? And--who is this mysterious man who dropped the
studs--valuable things, with a special device on them? He'll have to be
traced! Mrs. Goldmark--can you describe him, particularly?"
Before Mrs. Goldmark could reply, a knock came at the side-door, and
Zillah, going to answer it, returned presently with a middle-aged,
quiet-looking, gold-spectacled gentleman whom she introduced to Purdie
as Mr. Penniket, solicitor to the late Daniel Multenius.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE DETECTIVE CALLS
Mr. Penniket, to whom the two cousins and Mrs. Goldmark were evidently
very well known, looked a polite enquiry at the stranger as he took the
chair which Melky drew forward for him.
"As Mr. Purdie is presumably discussing this affair with you," he
observed, "I take it that you intend him to hear anything I have to
tell?"
"That's so, Mr. Penniket," answered Melky. "Mr. Purdie's one of us, so
to speak--you can tell us anything you like, before him. We were going
into details when you come--there's some strange business on, Mr.
Penniket! And we want to get a bit clear about it before we tell the
police what we know."
"You know something that they don't know?" asked Mr. Penniket.
"More than a bit!" replied Melky, laconically. "This here affair's
revolving itself into a network, mister, out of which somebody's going
to find it hard work to break through!"
The solicitor, who had been quietly inspecting Purdie, gave him a sly
smile.
"Then before I tell you what I have just found out," he said, turning
to Melky, "I think you had better tell me all you know, and what you
have been discussing. Possibly, I may have something to tell which
bears on our knowledge. Let us be clear!"
He listened carefully while Purdie, at Zillah's request, told him
briefly what had been said before his arrival, and Purdie saw at once
that none of the facts surprised him. He asked Mrs. Goldmark one or two
questions about the man who was believed to have dropped one of his
cuff-links in her restaurant; he asked Melky a question as to his
discovery of the other; he made no comment on the answers which they
gave him. Finally, he drew his chair nearer to the table at which they
were sitting, and invited their attention with a glance.
"There is no doubt," he said, "that the circumstances centring round
the death of my late client are remarkably mysterious! What we want to
get at, put into a nut-shell, is just this--what happened in this
parlour between half-past four and half-past five on Monday afternoon?
We might even narrow that down to--what happened between ten minutes to
five and ten minutes past five? Daniel Multenius was left alone--we
know that. Some person undoubtedly came in here--perhaps more than one
person came. Who was the person? Were there two persons? If there were
two, did they come together--or singly, separately? All that will have
to be solved before we find out who it was that assaulted my late
client, and so injured him that he died under the shock. Now, Miss
Wildrose, and Mr. Rubinstein, there's one fact which you may as well
get into your minds at once. Your deceased relative had his secrets!"
Neither Zillah nor Purdie made any comment on this, and the solicitor,
with a meaning look at Purdie, went on. "Not that Daniel Multenius
revealed any of them to me!" he continued. "I have acted for him in
legal matters for some years, but only in quite an ordinary way. He was
a well-to-do man, Mr. Purdie--a rich man, in fact, and a considerable
property owner--I did all his work of that sort. But as regards his
secrets, I know nothing--except that since yesterday, I have discovered
that he certainly had them. I have, as Miss Wildrose knows--and by her
instructions--been making some enquiries at the bank where Mr.
Multenius kept his account--the Empire and Universal, in Lombard
Street--and I have made some curious unearthings in the course of them.
Now then, between ourselves--Mr. Purdie being represented to me as in
your entire confidence--I may as well tell you that Daniel Multenius
most certainly had dealings of a business nature completely outside his
business as jeweller and pawnbroker in this shop. That's positively
certain. And what is also certain is that in some of those dealings he
was, in some way or another, intimately associated with the man whose
name has already come up a good deal since Monday--Mr. Spencer
Levendale!"
"S'elp me!" muttered Melky. "I heard Levendale, with my own two ears,
say that he didn't know the poor old fellow!"
"Very likely," said Mr. Penniket, drily. "It was not convenient to
him--we will assume--to admit that he did, just then. But I have
discovered--from the bankers--that precisely two years ago, Mr. Spencer
Levendale paid to Daniel Multenius a sum of ten thousand pounds. That's
a fact!"
"For what, mister?" demanded Melky.
"Can't say--nobody can say," answered the solicitor. "All the same, he
did--paid it in, himself, to Daniel Multenius's credit, at the Empire
and Universal. It went into the ordinary account, in the ordinary way,
and was used by Mr. Multenius as part of his own effects--as no doubt
it was. Now," continued Mr. Penniket, turning to Zillah, "I want to ask
you a particular question. I know you had assisted your grandfather a
great deal of late years. Had you anything to do with his banking
account?"
"No!" replied Zillah, promptly. "That's the one thing I never had
anything to do with. I never saw his pass-book, nor his deposit-book,
nor even his cheque-book. He kept all that to himself."
"Just so," said Mr. Penniket. "Then, of course, you don't know that he
dealt with considerable sums--evidently quite outside this business. He
made large--sometimes very heavy--payments. And--this, I am convinced,
is of great importance to the question we are trying to solve--most of
these payments were sent to South Africa."
The solicitor glanced round his audience as if anxious to see that its
various members grasped the significance of this announcement. And
Melky at once voiced the first impression of, at any rate, three of
them.
"Levendale comes from those parts!" he muttered. "Came here some two or
three years ago--by all I can gather."