"Well," he remarked, "I guess that in a fix of this sort, you can't
take too much trouble! I'm interested in this case--and a good deal
more than interested now that you tell me about these platinum studs. I
reckon I can throw some light on that, anyway! But we'll keep it till
your friends come. And I haven't introduced myself--my name's
Stuyvesant Guyler. I'm a New York man--but I've knocked around
some--pretty considerable, in fact. Say!--have you got any idea that
this mystery of yours is at all connected with South Africa?
And--incidentally--with diamonds?"
Zillah started and glanced at Lauriston.
"What makes you think of South Africa--and of diamonds?" she asked.
"Oh, well--but that comes into my tale," answered Guyler. "You'll see
in due course. But--had it?"
"I hadn't thought of diamonds, but I certainly had of South Africa,"
admitted Zillah.
"Seems to be working in both directions," said Guyler, meditatively.
"But you'll see that when I tell you what I know."
Purdie and Melky Rubinstein entered the room within the twenty minutes
which Zillah had predicted--full of wonder to find her and Lauriston in
company with a total stranger. But Zillah explained matters in a few
words, and forbade any questioning until Mr. Stuyvesant Guyler had told
his story.
"And before I get on to that," said Guyler, who had been quietly
scrutinizing his two new visitors while Zillah explained the situation,
"I'd just like to see that platinum solitaire that Mr. Rubinstein
picked up--if he's got it about him?"
Melky thrust a hand into a pocket.
"It ain't never been off me, mister, since I found it!" he said,
producing a little packet wrapped in tissue paper. "There you are!"
Guyler took the stud which Melky handed to him and laid it on the table
around which they were all sitting. After glancing at it for a moment,
he withdrew the studs from his own wrist-bands and laid them by its
side.
"Yes, that's sure one of the lot!" he observed musingly. "I guess
there's no possible doubt at all on that point. Well!--this is indeed
mighty queer! Now, I'll tell you straight out. These studs--all of
'em--are parts of six sets of similar things, all made of that very
expensive metal, platinum, in precisely the same fashion, and
ornamented with the same specially invented device, and given to six
men who had been of assistance to him in a big deal, as a little mark
of his appreciation, by a man that some few years ago made a fortune in
South Africa. That's so!"
Zillah turned on the American with a sharp look of enquiry.
"Who was he?" she demanded. "Tell us his name!"
"His name," replied Guyler, "was Spencer Levendale--dealer in diamonds."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PURDIE STANDS FIRM
The effect produced by this announcement was evidently exactly that
which the American expected, and he smiled, a little grimly, as he
looked from one face to another. As for his hearers, they first looked
at each other and then at him, and Guyler laughed and went on.
"That makes you jump!" he said. "Well, now, at the end of that inquest
business in the papers the other day I noticed Spencer Levendale's name
mentioned in connection with some old book that was left, or found in
Mr. Daniel Multenius's back-parlour. Of course, I concluded that he was
the same Spencer Levendale I'd known out there in South Africa, five
years ago. And to tell you the truth, I've been watching your papers,
morning and evening, since, to see if there was any more news of him.
But so far I haven't seen any."
Purdie and Melky exchanged glances, and in response to an obvious hint
from Melky, Purdie spoke.
"We can give you some news, then," he said. "It'll be common property
tomorrow morning. Levendale has mysteriously disappeared from his
house, and from his usual haunts!--and nobody knows where he is. And
it's considered that this disappearance has something to do with the
Praed Street affair."
"Sure!" assented Guyler. "That's just about a dead certainty. And in
the Praed Street affair, these platinum stud things are going to play a
good part, and when you and your police have got to the bottom of it,
you'll sure find that something else has a big part, too!"
"What?" asked Purdie.
"Why, diamonds!" answered the American, with a quiet smile. "Just
diamonds! Diamonds'll be at the bottom of the bag--sure!"
There was a moment of surprised silence, and then Melky turned eagerly
to the American.
"Mister!" he said. "Let's be getting at something! What do you know,
now, about this here Levendale?"
"Not much," replied Guyler. "But I'm open to tell what I do know. I've
been a bit of a rolling stone, do you see--knocked about the world,
pretty considerable, doing one thing and another, and I've falsified
the old saying, for I've contrived to gather a good bit of moss in my
rollings. Well, now, I was located in Cape Town for a while, some five
years ago, and I met Spencer Levendale there. He was then a dealer in
diamonds--can't say in what way exactly--for I never exactly knew--but
it was well known that he'd made a big pile, buying and selling these
goods, and he was a very rich man. Now I and five other men--all of
different nationalities--were very useful to Levendale in a big deal
that he was anxious to carry through--never mind what it was--and he
felt pretty grateful to us, I reckon. And as we were all warmish men so
far as money was concerned, it wasn't the sort of thing that he could
hand out cheques for, so he hit on the notion of having sets of studs
made of platinum--which is, as you're aware, the most valuable metal
known, and on every stud he had a device of his own invention carefully
engraved. Here's my set!--and what Mr. Rubinstein's got there is part
of another. Now, then, who's the man who's been dropping his cuff-links
about?"
Purdie, who had listened with deep attention to the American's
statement, immediately put a question.
"That's but answered by asking you something," he said. "You no doubt
know the names of the men to whom those sets of studs were given?"
But to Purdie's disappointment, the American shook his head.
"Well, now, I just don't!" he replied. "The fact is--as you would
understand if you knew the circumstances--this was a queer sort of a
secret deal, in which the assistance of various men of different
nationality was wanted, and none of us knew any of the rest. However, I
did come across the Englishman who was in it--afterwards. Recognized
him, as a matter of fact, by his being in possession of those studs."
"And who was he?" asked Purdie.
"A man named Purvis--Stephen Purvis," answered Guyler. "Sort of man
like myself--knocked around, taking up this and that, as long as there
was money in it. I came across him in Johannesburg, maybe a year after
that deal I was telling of. He didn't know who the other fellows were,
neither."
"You've never seen him since?" suggested Purdie. "You don't know where
he is?"
"Not a ghost of a notion!" said Guyler. "Didn't talk with him more than
once, and then only for an hour or so."
"Mister!" exclaimed Melky, eagerly. "Could you describe this here
Purvis, now? Just a bit of a description, like?"
"Sure!" answered the American. "That is--as I remember him. Biggish,
raw-boned, hard-bitten sort of a man--about my
age--clean-shaven--looked more of a Colonial than an Englishman--he'd
been out in South Africa, doing one thing and another, since he was a
boy."
"S'elp me if that doesn't sound like the man who was in Mrs. Goldmark's
restaurant!" said Melky. "Just what she describes, anyhow!"
"Why, certainly--I reckon that is the man," remarked Guyler. "That's
what I've been figuring on, all through. I tell you all this mystery is
around some diamond affair in which this lady's grandfather, and Mr.
Spencer Levendale, and this man Purvis have been mixed up--sure! And
the thing--in my humble opinion--is to find both of them! Now, then,
what's been done, and what's being done, in that way?"
Melky nodded at Purdie, as much as to invite him to speak.
"The authorities at New Scotland Yard have the Levendale affair in
hand," said Purdie. "We've been in and out there, with Mr. Multenius's
solicitor, all the afternoon and evening. But, of course, we couldn't
tell anything about this other man because we didn't know anything,
till now. You'll have no objection to going there tomorrow?"
"Not at all!" replied Guyler, cheerfully. "I'm located at this hotel
for a week or two. I struck it when I came here from the North, a few
days back, and it suits me very well, and I guess I'll just stop here
while I'm in London this journey. No, I've no objection to take a hand.
But--it seems to me--there's still a lot of difficulty about this young
gentleman here--Mr. Lauriston. I read all the papers carefully, and
sized up his predicament. Those rings, now?"
Zillah suddenly remembered all that Ayscough had told her that evening.
She had forgotten the real motive of her visit to King's Cross in her
excitement in listening to the American's story. She now turned to
Purdie and the other two.
"I'd forgotten!" she exclaimed. "The danger's still there. Ayscough's
been at the shop tonight. The police have had an expert examining those
rings, and the rings in the tray. He says there are marks--private,
jewellers' marks in the two rings which correspond with marks in our
rings. In fact, there's no doubt of it. And now, the police are certain
that the two rings did belong to our tray--and--and they're bent on
arresting--Andie!"
Lauriston flushed hotly with sheer indignation.
"That's all nonsense--what the police say!" he exclaimed. "I've found
out who gave those two rings to my mother! I can prove it! I don't care
a hang for the police and their marks--those rings are mine!"
Purdie laid a quiet hand on Lauriston's arm.
"None of us know yet what you've done or found out at Peebles about the
rings," he said. "Tell us! Just give us the brief facts."
"I'm going to," answered Lauriston, still indignant. "I thought the
whole thing over as I went down in the train. I remembered that if
there was one person living in Peebles who would be likely to know
about my mother and those rings, it would be an old friend of hers,
Mrs. Taggart--you know her, John."
"I know Mrs. Taggart--go on," said Purdie.
"I didn't know if Mrs. Taggart was still living," continued Lauriston.
"But I was out early this morning and I found her. She remembers the
rings well enough: she described them accurately--what's more she told
me what I didn't know--how they came into my mother's possession. You
know as well as I do, John, that my father and mother weren't over well
off--and my mother used to make a bit of extra money by letting her
rooms to summer visitors. One summer she had a London solicitor, a Mr.
Killick, staying there for a month--at least he came for a month, but
he was taken ill, and he was there more than two months. My mother
nursed him through his illness--and after he'd returned to London, he
sent her those rings. And--if there are marks on them," concluded
Lauriston, "that correspond with marks on the rings in that tray, all I
have to say is that those marks must have been there when Mr. Killick
bought them!--for they've never been out of our possession--my mother's
and mine--until I took them to pawn."
Zillah suddenly clapped her hands--and she and Melky exchanged
significant glances which the others did not understand.
"That's it!" she exclaimed. "That's what puzzled me at first. Now I'm
not puzzled any more. Melky knows what I mean."
"What she means, mister," assented Melky, tapping Purdie's arm, "is
precisely what struck me at once. It's just as Mr. Lauriston here
says--them private marks were on the rings when Mr. Killick bought
them. Them two rings, and some of the rings in the tray what's been
mentioned all come from the same maker! There ain't nothing wonderful
in all that to me and my cousin Zillah there!--we've been brought up in
the trade, d'ye see? But the police!--they're that suspicious
that--well, the thing to do, gentlemen, is to find this here Mr.
Killick."
"Just so," agreed Purdie. "Where is he to be found, Andie?"
But Lauriston shook his head, disappointedly.
"That's just what I don't know!" he answered. "It's five and twenty
years since he gave my mother those rings, and according to Mrs.
Taggart, he was then a middle-aged man, so he's now getting on in
years. But--if he's alive, I can find him."
"We've got to find him," said Purdie, firmly. "In my opinion, he can
give some evidence that'll be of more importance than the mere
identifying of those rings--never mind what it is I'm thinking of, now.
We must see to that tomorrow."
"But in the meantime," broke in Zillah. "Andie must not go home--to
Mrs. Flitwick's! I know what Ayscough meant tonight--and remember, all
of you, it was private between him and myself. If he goes home, he may
be arrested, any minute. He must be kept out of the way of the police
for a bit, and--"
Purdie rose from the table and shook his head determinedly.
"No," he said. "None of that! We're going to have no running away, no
hiding! Andie Lauriston's not going to show the least fear of the
police, or of any of their theories. He's just going to follow my
orders--and I'm going to take him to my hotel for the night--leave him
to me! I'm going to see this thing right through to the finish--however
it ends. Now, let's separate. Mr. Guyler!"
"Sir?" answered the American. "At your service."
"Then meet me at my hotel tomorrow morning at ten," said Purdie.
"There's a new chapter to open."
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE PARSLETT AFFAIR
At a quarter past ten o'clock on the morning following Ayscough's
revelation to Zillah, the detective was closeted with a man from the
Criminal Investigation Department at New Scotland Yard in a private
room at the local police station, and with them was the superior
official who had been fetched to the pawnshop in Praed Street
immediately after the discovery of Daniel Multenius's body by Andie
Lauriston. And this official was stating his view of the case to the
two detectives--conscious that neither agreed with him.
"You can't get over the similarity of the markings of those rings!" he
said confidently. "To my mind the whole thing's as plain as a
pikestaff--the young fellow was hard up--he confessed he hadn't a penny
on him!--he went in there, found the shop empty, saw those rings,
grabbed a couple, was interrupted by the old man--and finished him off
by scragging him! That's my opinion! And I advise getting a warrant for
him and getting on with the work--all the rest of this business belongs
to something else."
Ayscough silently glanced at the man from New Scotland Yard--who shook
his head in a decided negative.
"That's not my opinion!" he said with decision. "And it's not the
opinion of the people at headquarters. We were at this affair nearly
all yesterday afternoon with that little Jew fellow, Rubinstein, and
the young Scotch gentleman, Mr. Purdie, and our conclusion is that
there's something of a big sort behind old Multenius's death. There's a
regular web of mystery! The old man's death--that book, which Levendale
did not leave in the 'bus, in spite of all he says, and of his
advertisements!--Levendale's unexplained disappearance--the strange
death of this man Parslett--the mystery of those platinum studs dropped
in the pawnbroker's parlour and in Mrs. Goldmark's eating
house--no!--the whole affair's a highly complicated one. That's my view
of it."
"And mine," said Ayscough. He looked at the unbelieving official, and
turned away from him to glance out of the window into the street. "May
I never!" he suddenly exclaimed. "There's young Lauriston coming here,
and Purdie with him--and a fellow who looks like an American. I should
say Lauriston's got proof about his title to those rings--anyway, he
seems to have no fear about showing himself here--case of walking
straight into the lions' den, eh?"
"Bring 'em all in!" ordered the superior official, a little surlily.
"Let's hear what it's all about!"
Purdie presently appeared in Ayscough's rear, preceding his two
companions. He and the detective from New Scotland Yard exchanged nods;
they had seen a good deal of each other the previous day. He nodded
also to the superior official--but the superior official looked at
Lauriston.
"Got that proof about those rings?" he enquired. "Of course, if you
have--"
"Before Mr. Lauriston says anything about that," interrupted Purdie, "I
want you to hear a story which this gentleman, Mr. Stuyvesant Guyler,
of New York, can tell you. It's important--it bears right on this
affair. If you just listen to what he can tell--"
The two detectives listened to Guyler's story about the platinum studs
with eager, if silent interest: in the end they glanced at each other
and then at the local official, who seemed to be going through a
process of being convinced against his will.
"Just what I said a few minutes ago," muttered the New Scotland Yard
man. "A highly complicated affair! Not going to be got at in five
minutes."
"Nor in ten!" said Ayscough laconically. He glanced at Guyler. "You
could identify this man Purvis if you saw him?" he asked.
"Why, certainly!" answered the American. "I guess if he's the man who
was seen in that eating-house the other day he's not altered any--or
not much."
The man at the desk turned to Purdie, glancing at Lauriston.
"About those rings?" he asked. "What's Mr. Lauriston got to say?"
"Let me tell," said Purdie, as Lauriston was about to speak. "Mr.
Lauriston," he went on, "has been to Peebles, where his father and
mother lived. He has seen an old friend of theirs, Mrs. Taggart, who
remembers the rings perfectly. Moreover, she knows that they were given
to the late Mrs. Lauriston by a Mr. Edward Killick, a London solicitor,
who, of course, will be able to identify them. As to the marks, I think
you'll find a trade explanation of that--those rings and the rings in
Multenius's tray probably came from the same maker. Now, I find, on
looking through the directory, that this Mr. Edward Killick has retired
from practice, but I've also found out where he now lives, and I
propose to bring him here. In the meantime--I want to know what you're
going to do about Mr. Lauriston? Here he is!"
The superior official glanced at the New Scotland Yard man.
"I suppose your people have taken this job entirely in hand, now?" he
asked.
"Entirely!" answered the detective.
"Got any instructions about Mr. Lauriston?" asked the official. "You
haven't? Mr. Lauriston's free to go where he likes, then, as far as
we're concerned, here," he added, turning to Purdie. "But--he'd far
better stay at hand till all this is cleared up."
"That's our intention," said Purdie. "Whenever you want Mr. Lauriston,
come to me at my hotel--he's my guest there, and I'll produce him. Now
we're going to find Mr. Killick."
He and Lauriston and Guyler walked out together; on the steps of the
police-station Ayscough called him back.
"I say!" he said, confidentially. "Leave that Mr. Killick business
alone for an hour or two. I can tell you of something much more
interesting than that, and possibly of more importance. Go round to the
Coroner's Court--Mr. Lauriston knows where it is."
"What's on?" asked Lauriston.
"Inquest on that man Parslett," replied Ayscough with a meaning nod.
"You'll hear some queer evidence if I'm not mistaken. I'm going there
myself, presently."
He turned in again, and the three young men looked at each other.
"Say!" remarked Guyler, "I reckon that's good advice. Let's go to this
court."
Lauriston led them to the scene of his own recent examination by Mr.
Parminter. But on this occasion the court was crowded; it was with
great difficulty that they contrived to squeeze themselves into a
corner of it. In another corner, but far away from their own, Lauriston
saw Melky Rubinstein; Melky, wedged in, and finding it impossible to
move, made a grimace at Lauriston and jerked his thumb in the direction
of the door, as a signal that he would meet him there when the
proceedings were over.
The inquest had already begun when Purdie and his companions forced
their way into the court. In the witness-box was the dead man's
widow--a pathetic figure in heavy mourning, who was telling the Coroner
that on the night of her husband's death he went out late in the
evening--just to take a walk round, as he expressed it. No--she had no
idea whatever of where he was going, nor if he had any particular
object in going out at all. He had not said one word to her about going
out to get money from any one. After he went out she never saw him
again until she was fetched to St. Mary's Hospital, where she found him
in the hands of the doctors. He died, without having regained
consciousness, just after she reached the hospital.
Nothing very startling so far, thought Purdie, at the end of the
widow's evidence, and he wondered why Ayscough had sent them round. But
more interest came with the next witness--a smart, bustling,
middle-aged man, evidently a well-to-do business man, who entered the
box pretty much as if he had been sitting down in his own office, to
ring his bell and ask for the day's letters. A whisper running round
the court informed the onlookers that this was the gentleman who picked
Parslett up in the street. Purdie and his two companions pricked their
ears.
Martin James Gardiner--turf commission agent--resident in Portsdown
Road, Maida Vale. Had lived there several years--knew the district
well--did not know the dead man by sight at all--had never seen him,
that he knew of, until the evening in question.
"Tell us exactly what happened, Mr. Gardiner--in your own way," said
the Coroner.
Mr. Gardiner leaned over the front of the witness-box, and took the
court and the public into his confidence--genially.
"I was writing letters until pretty late that night," he said. "A
little after eleven o'clock I went out to post them at the nearest
pillar-box. As I went down the steps of my house, the deceased passed
by. He was walking down Portsdown Road in the direction of Clifton
Road. As he passed me, he was chuckling--laughing in a low tone. I
thought he was--well, a bit intoxicated when I heard that, but as I was
following him pretty closely, I soon saw that he walked straight
enough. He kept perhaps six or eight yards in front of me until we had
come to within twenty yards or so of the corner of Clifton Road. Then,
all of a sudden--so suddenly that it's difficult for me to describe
it!--he seemed to--well, there's no other word for it than--collapse.
He seemed to give, you understand--shrank up, like--like a concertina
being suddenly shut up! His knees gave--his whole body seemed to
shrink--and he fell in a heap on the pavement!"
"Did he cry out--scream, as if in sudden pain--anything of that sort?"
asked the Coroner.
"There was a sort of gurgling sound--I'm not sure that he didn't say a
word or two, as he collapsed," answered the witness. "But it was so
sudden that I couldn't catch anything definite. He certainly never made
the slightest sound, except a queer sort of moaning, very low, from the
time he fell. Of course, I thought the man had fallen in a fit. I
rushed to him; he was lying, sort of crumpled up, where he had fallen.
There was a street-lamp close by--I saw that his face had turned a
queer colour, and his eyes were already closed--tightly. I noticed,
too, that his teeth were clenched, and his fingers twisted into the
palms of his hands."
"Was he writhing at all--making any movement?" enquired the Coroner.
"Not a movement! He was as still as the stones he was lying on!" said
the witness. "I'm dead certain he never moved after he fell. There was
nobody about, just then, and I was just going to ring the bell of the
nearest house when a policeman came round the corner. I shouted to
him--he came up. We examined the man for a minute; then I ran to fetch
Dr. Mirandolet, whose surgery is close by there. I found him in; he
came at once, and immediately ordered the man's removal to the
hospital. The policeman got help, and the man was taken off. Dr.
Mirandolet went with him. I returned home."