personal enjoyment in revealing a new feature of the mystery, "I have a
friend who lives in Stanhope Street--Mrs. Isenberg. She sends to me at
half-past-ten to tell me she is sick. I go to see her--immediate. I
find her very poorly--so! I stop with her till past eleven, doing what
I can. Then her sister, she comes--I can do no more--I come away. And I
walk through Sussex Square, as my road back to Praed Street and Zillah.
But before I am much across Sussex Square, I stop--sudden, like that!
For what? Because--I see a man! That man! Him what drops his cuff-link
on my table. Oh, yes!"
"You're sure it was that man, Mrs. Goldmark?" enquired Melky,
anxiously. "You don't make no mistakes, so?"
"Do I mistake myself if I say I see you, Mr. Rubinstein?" exclaimed
Mrs. Goldmark, solemnly and with emphasis. "No, I don't make no
mistakes at all. Is there not gas lamps?--am I not blessed with good
eyes? I see him--like as I see you there young gentleman and Zillah.
Plain!"
"Well--and what was he doing?" asked Purdie, desirous of getting at
facts. "Did he come out of a house, or go into one, or--what?"
"I tell you," replied Mrs. Goldmark, "everything I tell you--all in
good time. It is like this. A taxicab comes up--approaching me. It
stops--by the pavement. Two men--they get out. Him first. Then another.
They pay the driver--then they walk on a little--just a few steps. They
go into a house. The other man--he lets them into that house. With a
latch-key. The door opens--shuts. They are inside. Then I go to Zillah
and tell her what I see. So!"
The three young men exchanged glances, and Purdie turned to the
informant.
"Mrs. Goldmark," he said, "did you know the man who opened the door?"
"Not from another!" replied Mrs. Goldmark. "A stranger to me!"
"Do you know Mr. Levendale--by sight?" asked Purdie.
"Often, since all this begins, I ask myself that question," said Mrs.
Goldmark, "him being, so to speak, a neighbour. No, that I do not, not
being able to say he was ever pointed out to me."
"Well, you can describe the man who pulled out his latch-key and opened
the door, anyhow," remarked Purdie. "You took a good look at him, I
suppose!"
"And a good one," answered Mrs. Goldmark. "He was one of our people--I
saw his nose and his eyes. And I was astonished to see so poor-looking
a man have a latch-key to so grand a mansion as that!--he was dressed
in poor clothes, and looked dirty and mean."
"A bearded dark man?" suggested Purdie.
"Not at all," said Mrs. Goldmark. "A clean-shaved man--though dark he
might be."
Purdie looked at Melky and shook his head.
"That's not Levendale!" he said, "Clean-shaven! Levendale's bearded and
mustached--and I should say a bit vain of his beard. Um! you're dead
certain, Mrs. Goldmark, about the other man?"
"As that I tell you this," insisted Mrs. Goldmark. "I see him as plain
as what I see him when he calls at my establishment and leaves his
jewellery on my table. Oh, yes--I don't make no mistake, Mr. Purdie."
Purdie looked again at Melky--this time with an enquiry in his glance.
"Don't ask me, Mr. Purdie!" said Melky. "I don't know what to say.
Sounds like as if these two went into Levendale's house. But what man
would have a latch-key to that but Levendale himself? More
mystery!--ain't I full of it already? Now if Mr. Ayscough hadn't gone
away--"
"Look here!" said Purdie, coming to a sudden decision, "I'm going round
there. I want to know what this means--I'm going to know. You ladies
had better go home. If you others like to come as far as the corner of
Sussex Square, come. But I'm going to Levendale's house alone. I'll
find something out."
He said no more until, Zillah and Mrs. Goldmark having gone homeward,
and he and his two companions having reached a side street leading into
Sussex Square, he suddenly paused and demanded their attention!
"I've particular reasons for wanting to go into that house alone," he
said. "There's no danger--trust me. But--if I'm not out again in a
quarter of an hour or so, you can come there and ask for me. My own
impression is that I shall find Levendale there. And--as you're aware,
Andie--I know Levendale." He left them standing in the shadow of a
projecting portico and going up to Levendale's front door, rang the
bell. There was no light in any of the windows; all appeared to be in
dead stillness in the house; somewhere, far off in the interior, he
heard the bell tinkle. And suddenly, as he stood waiting and listening,
he heard a voice that sounded close by him and became aware that there
was a small trap or grille in the door, behind which he made out a face.
"Who is that?" whispered the voice.
"John Purdie--wanting to see Mr. Levendale," he answered promptly.
The door was just as promptly opened, and as Purdie stepped within was
as quickly closed behind him. At the same instant the click of a switch
heralded a flood of electric light, and he started to see a man
standing at his side--a man who gave him a queer, deprecating smile, a
man who was not and yet who was Levendale.
"Gracious me!" exclaimed Purdie, "it isn't--"
"Yes!" said Levendale, quietly. "But it is, though! All right,
Purdie--come this way."
Purdie followed Levendale into a small room on the right of the hall--a
room in which the remains of a cold, evidently impromptu supper lay on
a table lighted by a shaded lamp. Two men had been partaking of that
supper, but Levendale was alone. He gave his visitor another queer
smile, and pointed, first to a chair and then to a decanter.
"Sit down--take a drink," he said. "This is a queer meeting! We haven't
seen each other since--"
"Good God, man!" broke in Purdie, staring at his host. "What's it all
mean? Are you--disguised?"
Levendale laughed--ruefully--and glanced at the mean garments which
Mrs. Goldmark had spoken of.
"Necessity!" he said. "Had to! Ah!--I've been through some queer
times--and in queer places. Look here--what do you know?"
"Know!" cried Purdie. "You want me to tell you all I know--in a
sentence? Man!--it would take a month! What do you know? That's more
like it!"
Levendale passed a hand across his forehead--there was a weariness in
his gesture which showed his visitor that he was dead beat.
"Aye, just so!" he said. "But--tell me! has John Purvis come looking
for his brother?"
"He has!" answered Purdie. "He's in London just now."
"Has he told about that diamond?--told the police?" demanded Levendale.
"He has!" repeated Purdie. "That's all known. Stephen Purvis--where is
he?"
"Upstairs--asleep--dead tired out," said Levendale. "We both are! Night
and day--day and night--I could fall on this floor and sleep--"
"You've been after that diamond?" suggested Purdie.
"That--and something else," said Levendale.
"Something else?" asked Purdie. "What then?"
"Eighty thousand pounds," answered Levendale. "Just that!"
Purdie stood staring at him. Then he suddenly put a question.
"Do you know who murdered that old man in Praed Street?" he demanded.
"That's what I'm after."
"No!" said Levendale, promptly. "I don't even know that he was
murdered!" He, too, stared at his visitor for a moment; then "But I
know more than a little about his being robbed," he added significantly.
Purdie shook his head. He was puzzled and mystified beyond measure.
"This is getting too deep for me!" he said. "You're the biggest mystery
of all, Levendale. Look here!" he went on. "What are you going to do?
This queer disappearance of yours--this being away--coming back without
your beard and dressed like that!--aren't you going to explain? The
police--"
"Yes!" said Levendale. "Ten o'clock this morning--the police-station.
Be there--all of you--anybody--anybody who likes--I'm going to tell the
police all I know. Purvis and I, we can't do any more--baffled, you
understand! But now--go away, Purdie, and let me sleep--I'm dead done
for!"
Within ten minutes of leaving them, Purdie was back with Lauriston and
Melky Rubinstein, and motioning them away from Sussex Square.
"That's more extraordinary than the rest!" he said, as they all moved
off. "Levendale's there, in his own house, right enough! And he's
shaved off his beard and mustache, and he's wearing tramp's clothes and
he and Stephen Purvis have been looking night and day, for that
confounded diamond, and for eighty thousand pounds! And--what's more,
Levendale does not know who killed Daniel Multenius or that he was
murdered! But, by George, sirs!" he added, as high above their heads
the clock of St. James's Church struck one, "he knows something
big!--and we've got to wait nine hours to hear it!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SECRET WORK
The inner room of the police-station, at ten o'clock that morning, was
full of men. Purdie, coming there with Lauriston at five minutes before
the hour, found Melky Rubinstein hanging about the outer door, and had
only just time to warn his companion to keep silence as to their
midnight discovery before Guyler and John Purvis drove up in one cab
and Mr. Killick in another. Inside, Ayscough, refreshed by his
breakfast and an hour's rest, was talking to the inspector and the man
from New Scotland Yard--all these looked enquiringly at the group which
presently crowded in on them.
"Any of you gentlemen got any fresh news?" demanded the inspector, as
he ran his eye over the expectant faces "No?--well, I suppose you're
all wanting to know if we have?" He glanced at Ayscough, who was
pointing out certain paragraphs in one of the morning newspapers to the
Scotland Yard man. "The fact is," he continued, "there have been queer
developments since last night--and I don't exactly know where we are!
My own opinion is that we'd better wait a few hours before saying
anything more definite--to my mind, these newspapers are getting hold
of too much news--giving information to the enemy, as it were. I think
you'd all better leave things to us, gentlemen--for a while." There was
rather more than a polite intimation in this that the presence of so
many visitors was not wanted--but John Purvis at once assumed a
determined attitude.
"I want to know exactly what's being done, and what's going to be done,
about my brother!" he said. "I'm entitled to that! That's the job I
came about--myself--as for the rest--"
"Your brother's here!" said Purdie, who was standing by the window and
keeping an eye on the street outside. "And Mr. Levendale with
him--hadn't you better have them straight in?" he went on, turning to
the inspector. "They both look as if they'd things to tell."
But Ayscough had already made for the door and within a moment was
ushering in the new arrivals. And Purdie was quick to note that the
Levendale who entered, a sheaf of morning papers in his hand, was a
vastly different Levendale to the man he had seen nine hours before,
dirty, unkempt, and worn out with weariness. The trim beard and
mustache were hopelessly lost, and there were lines on Levendale's face
which they concealed, but Levendale himself was now smartly groomed and
carefully dressed, and business-like, and it was with the air of a man
who means business that he strode into the room and threw a calm nod to
the officials.
"Now, Inspector," he said, going straight to the desk, while Stephen
Purvis turned to his brother. "I see from the papers that you've all
been much exercised about Mr. Purvis and myself--it just shows how a
couple of men can disappear and give some trouble before they're found.
But here we are!--and why we're here is because we're beaten--we took
our own course in trying to find our own property--and we're done! We
can do no more--and so we come to you."
"You should have come here at first, Mr. Levendale," said the
Inspector, a little sourly. "You'd have saved a lot of trouble--to
yourselves as well as to us. But that's neither here nor there--I
suppose you've something to tell us, sir?"
"Before I tell you anything," replied Levendale, "I want to know
something." He pointed to the morning papers which he had brought in.
"These people," he said, "seem to have got hold of a lot of
information--all got from you, of course. Now, we know what we're
after--let's put it in a nutshell. A diamond--an orange-yellow
diamond--worth eighty thousand pounds, the property of Mr. Stephen
Purvis there. That's item one! But there's another. Eighty thousand
pounds in bank-notes!--my property. Now--have any of you the least idea
who's got the diamond and my money? Come!"
There was a moment's silence. Then Ayscough spoke.
"Not a definite idea, Mr. Levendale--as yet."
"Then I'll tell you," said Levendale. "A Chinese fellow--one Chang Li.
He's got them--both! And Stephen Purvis and I have been after him for
all the days and nights since we disappeared--and we're beaten! Now
you'll have to take it up--and I'd better tell you the plain truth
about what's no doubt seemed a queer business from the first.
Half-an-hour's talk now will save hours of explanation later on. So
listen to me, all of you--I already see two gentlemen here, Mr.
Killick, and Mr. Guyler, who in a certain fashion, can corroborate some
particulars that I shall give you. Keep us free from interruption, if
you please, while I tell you my story."
Ayscough answered this request by going to the door and leaning against
it, and Levendale took a chair by the side of the desk and looked round
at an expectant audience.
"It's a queer and, in some respects, an involved story," he said, "but
I shall contrive to make matters plain to you before I've finished. I
shall have to go back a good many years--to a time when, as Mr. Killick
there knows, I was a partner with Daniel Molteno in a jewellery
business in the City. I left him, and went out to South Africa, where I
engaged in diamond trading. I did unusually well in my various
enterprises, and some years later I came back to London a very
well-to-do man. Not long after my return, I met my former partner
again. He had changed his name to Multenius, and was trading in Praed
Street as a jeweller and pawnbroker. Now, I had no objection to
carrying on a trade with certain business connections of mine at the
Cape--and after some conversation with Multenius he and I arranged to
buy and sell diamonds together here in London, and I at once paid over
a sum of money to him as working capital. The transactions were carried
out in his name. It was he, chiefly, who conducted them--he was as good
and keen a judge of diamonds as any man I ever knew--and no one here
was aware that I was concerned in them. I never went to his shop in
Praed Street but twice--if it was absolutely necessary for him to see
me, we met in the City, at a private office which I have there. Now you
understand the exact relations between Daniel Multenius and myself. We
were partners--in secret.
"We come, then, to recent events. Early in this present autumn, we
heard from Mr. Stephen Purvis, with whom I had had some transactions in
South Africa, that he had become possessed of a rare and fine
orange-yellow diamond and that he was sending it to us. It arrived at
Multenius's--Multenius brought it to me at my city office and we
examined it, after which Multenius deposited it in his bank. We decided
to buy it ourselves--I finding the money. We knew, from our messages
from Stephen Purvis, that he would be in town on the 18th November, and
we arranged everything for that date. That date, then, becomes of
special importance--what happened at Multenius's shop in Praed Street
on the afternoon of November 18th, between half-past four and half-past
five is, of course, the thing that really is of importance. Now, what
did happen? I can tell you--save as regards one detail which is,
perhaps, of more importance than the other details. Of that detail I
can't tell anything--but I can offer a good suggestion about it.
"Stephen Purvis was to call at Daniel Multenius's shop in Praed Street
between five o'clock and half-past on the afternoon of November
18th--to complete the sale of his diamond. About noon on that day,
Daniel Multenius went to the City. He went to his bank and took the
diamond away. He then proceeded to my office, where I handed him eighty
thousand pounds in bank notes--notes of large amounts. With the diamond
and these notes in his possession, Daniel Multenius went back to Praed
Street. I was to join him there shortly after five o'clock.
"Now we come to my movements. I lunched in the City, and afterwards
went to a certain well-known book-seller's in Holborn, who had written
to tell me that he had for sale a valuable book which he knew I wanted.
I have been a collector of rare books ever since I came back to
England. I spent an hour or so at the book-seller's shop. I bought the
book which I had gone to see--paying a very heavy price for it. I
carried it away in my hand, not wrapped up, and got into an omnibus
which was going my way, and rode in it as far as the end of Praed
Street. There I got out. And--in spite of what I said in my
advertisement in the newspapers of the following morning,--I had the
book in my hand when I left the omnibus. Why I pretended to have lost
it, why I inserted that advertisement in the papers, I shall tell you
presently--that was all part of a game which was forced upon me.
"It was, as near as I can remember, past five o'clock when I turned
along Praed Street. The darkness was coming on, and there was a slight
rain falling, and a tendency to fog. However, I noticed something--I am
naturally very quick of observation. As I passed the end of the street
which goes round the back of the Grand Junction Canal basin, the street
called Iron Gate Wharf, I saw turn into it, walking very quickly, a
Chinaman whom I knew to be one of the two Chinese medical students to
whom Daniel Multenius had let a furnished house in Maida Vale. He had
his back to me--I did not know which of the two he was. I thought
nothing of the matter, and went on. In another minute I was at the
pawn-shop. I opened the door, walked in, and went straight to the
little parlour--I had been there just twice before when Daniel
Multenius was alone, and so I knew my way. I went, I say, straight
through--and in the parlour doorway ran into Stephen Purvis.
"Purvis was excited--trembling, big fellow though he is, do you see? He
will bear me out as to what was said--and done. Without a word, he
turned and pointed to where Daniel Multenius was lying across the
floor--dead. 'I haven't been here a minute!' said Purvis. 'I came
in--found him, like that! There's nobody here. For God's sake, where's
my diamond?'
"Now, I was quick to think. I formed an impression within five seconds.
That Chinaman had called--found the old man lying in a fit, or possibly
dead--had seen, as was likely, the diamond on the table in the parlour,
the wad of bank-notes lying near, had grabbed the lot--and gone away.
It was a theory--and I am confident yet that it was the correct one.
And I tell you plainly that my concern from that instant was not with
Daniel Multenius, but with the Chinaman! I thought and acted like
lightning. First, I hastily examined Multenius, felt in his pockets,
found that there was nothing there that I wanted and that he was dead.
Then I remembered that on a previous visit of mine he had let me out of
his house by a door at the rear which communicated with a narrow
passage running into Market Street, and without a second's delay, I
seized Purvis by the arm and hurried him out. It was dark enough in
that passage--there was not a soul about--we crossed Market Street,
turned to the right, and were in Oxford and Cambridge Terrace before we
paused. My instinct told me that the right thing to do was to get away
from that parlour. And it was not until we were quite away from it that
I realized that I had left my book behind me!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
BAFFLED
Levendale paused at this point of his story, and looked round the
circle of attentive faces. He was quick to notice that two men were
watching him with particularly close attention--one was Ayscough, the
other, the old solicitor. And as he resumed his account he glanced
meaningly at Mr. Killick.
"I daresay some of you would like to question me--and Stephen Purvis,
too--on what I've already told you?" he said. "You're welcome to ask
any questions you like--any of you--when I've done. But--let me
finish--for then perhaps you'll fully understand what we were at.
"Purvis and I walked up and down in Oxford and Cambridge Terrace for
some time--discussing the situation. The more I considered the matter,
the more I was certain that my first theory was right--the Chinaman had
got the diamond and the bank-notes. I was aware of these two Chinamen
as tenants of Multenius's furnished house--as a matter of fact, I had
been present, at the shop in Praed Street, on one of my two visits
there when they concluded their arrangements with him. What I now
thought was this--one of them had called on the old man to do some
business, or to pay the rent, and had found him in a fit, or dead, as
the result of one, had seen the diamond and the money on the table,
placed there in readiness for Purvis's coming, and had possessed
himself of both and made off. Purvis agreed with me. And--both Purvis
and myself are well acquainted with the characteristic peculiarities,
and idiosyncrasies of Chinamen!--we knew with what we had to deal.
Therefore we knew what we had to do. We wanted the diamond and my
money. And since we were uncomfortably aware of the craft and subtlety
of the thief who'd got both we knew we should have to use craft
ourselves--and of no common sort. Therefore we decided that the very
last thing we should think of would be an immediate appeal to the
police.
"Now, you police officials may, nay, will!--say that we ought to have
gone straight to you, especially as this was a case of murder. But we
knew nothing about it being a case of murder. We had seen no signs of
violence on the old man--I knew him to be very feeble, and I believed
he had been suddenly struck over by paralysis, or something of that
sort. I reckoned matters up, carefully. It was plain that Daniel
Multenius had been left alone in house and shop--that his granddaughter
was out on some errand or other. Therefore, no one knew of the diamond
and the money. We did not want any one to know. If we had gone to the
police and told our tale, the news would have spread, and would
certainly have reached the Chinaman's ears. We knew well enough that if
we were to get our property back the thief must not be alarmed--there
must be nothing in the newspapers next morning. The Chinaman must not
know that the real owners of the diamond and the bank-notes suspected
him--he must not know that information about his booty was likely to be
given to the police. He must be left to believe--for some hours at any
rate--that what he had possessed himself of was the property of a dead
man who could not tell anything. But there was my book in that dead
man's parlour! It was impossible to go back and fetch it. It was
equally impossible that it should not attract attention. Daniel
Multenius's granddaughter, whom I believed to be a very sharp young
woman, would notice it, and would know that it had come into the place
during her absence. I thought hard over that problem--and finally I
drafted an advertisement and sent it off to an agency with instructions
to insert it in every morning newspaper in London next day. Why?
Because I wanted to draw a red herring across the trail!--I wanted, for
the time being, to set up a theory that some man or other had found
that book in the omnibus, had called in at Multenius's to sell or pawn
it, had found the old man alone, and had assaulted and robbed him. All
this was with a view to hoodwinking the Chinaman. Anything must be
done, anything!--to keep him ignorant that Purvis and I knew the real
truth.