THE

 ORANGE-YELLOW

 DIAMOND

 BY

 J. S. FLETCHER

 1921

CONTENTS

 I THE PRETTY PAWNBROKER II MRS. GOLDMARK'S EATING-HOUSE III THE DEAD MAN IV THE PLATINUM SOLITAIRE V THE TWO LETTERS VI THE SPANISH MANUSCRIPT VII THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT VIII THE INQUEST IX WHOSE WERE THOSE RINGS? X MELKY INTERVENES XI THE BACK DOOR XII THE FRIEND FROM PEEBLES XIII THE CALL FOR HELP XIV THE PRIVATE LABORATORY XV CONFERENCE XVI THE DETECTIVE CALLS XVII WHAT THE LAMPS SHONE ON XVIII MR. STUYVESANT GUYLER XIX PURDIE STANDS FIRM XX THE PARSLETT AFFAIR XXI WHAT MANNER OF DEATH? XXII MR. KILLICK GOES BACK XXIII MR. KILLICK'S OPINION XXIV THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND XXV THE DEAD MAN'S PROPERTY XXVI THE RAT XXVII THE EMPTY HOUSE XXVIII THE £500 BANK NOTE XXIX MR. MORI YADA XXX THE MORTUARY XXXI THE MIRANDOLET THEORY XXXII ONE O'CLOCK MIDNIGHT XXXIII SECRET WORK XXXIV BAFFLED XXXV YADA TAKES CHARGE XXXVI PILMANSEY'S TEA ROOMS XXXVII CHANG LIXXXVIII THE JEW AND THE JAP XXXIX THE DIAMOND NECKLACE

THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND

CHAPTER ONE

THE PRETTY PAWNBROKER

On the southern edge of the populous parish of Paddington, in aparallelogram bounded by Oxford and Cambridge Terrace on the south, PraedStreet on the north, and by Edgware Road on the east and Spring Street onthe west, lies an assemblage of mean streets, the drab dulness of whichforms a remarkable contrast to the pretentious architectural grandeurs ofSussex Square and Lancaster Gate, close by. In these streets the observantwill always find all those evidences of depressing semi-poverty which aremore evident in London than in any other English city. The houses look asif laughter was never heard within them. Where the window blinds are nottorn, they are dirty; the folk who come out of the doors wear anxious anddepressed faces. Such shops as are there are mainly kept for the sale offood of poor quality: the taverns at the corners are destitute ofattraction or pretension. Whoever wanders into these streets finds theirsordid shabbiness communicating itself: he escapes, cast down, wonderingwho the folk are who live in those grey, lifeless cages; what they do, what they think; how life strikes them. Even the very sparrows which fightin the gutters for garbage are less lively than London sparrows usuallyare; as for the children who sit about the doorsteps, they look as if thegrass, the trees, the flowers, and the sunlight of the adjacent KensingtonGardens were as far away as the Desert of Gobi. Within this slice of thetown, indeed, life is lived, as it were, in a stagnant backwash, whichnothing and nobody can stir. 

In an upper room of one of the more respectable houses in one of thesomewhat superior streets of this neighbourhood, a young man stood lookingout of the window one November afternoon. It was then five o'clock, andthe darkness was coming: all day a gentle, never-ceasing rain had beenbringing the soot down from the dark skies upon the already dingy roofs. It was a dismal and miserable prospect upon which the watcher looked out, but not so miserable nor so dismal as the situation in which he just thenfound himself. The mean street beneath him was not more empty ofcheerfulness than his pockets were empty of money and his stomach of food. He had spent his last penny on the previous day: it, and two othercoppers, had gone on a mere mouthful of food and drink: since theirdisappearance he had eaten nothing. And he was now growing faint withhunger--and to add to his pains, some one, downstairs, was cookingherrings. The smell of the frying-pan nearly drove him ravenous. 

He turned from the window presently and looked round at the small roombehind him. It was a poor, ill-furnished place--cleanliness, though of adingy sort, its only recommendation. There was a bed, and a washstand, anda chest of drawers, and a couple of chairs--a few shillings would havepurchased the lot at any second-hand dealer's. In a corner stood theoccupant's trunk--all the property he had in the world was in it, save afew books which were carefully ranged on the chimney-piece, and certainwriting materials that lay on a small table. A sharp eye, glancing at thebooks and the writing materials, and at a few sheets of manuscriptscattered on the blotting-pad, would have been quick to see that here wasthe old tale, once more being lived out, of the literary aspirant who, atthe very beginning of his career, was finding, by bitter experience, that, of all callings, that of literature is the most precarious. 

A half-hesitating tap at the door prefaced the entrance of a woman--thesort of woman who is seen in those streets by the score--a tallish, thinnish woman, old before her time, perpetually harassed, always anxious, always looking as if she expected misfortune. Her face was full of anxietynow as she glanced at her lodger--who, on his part, flushed all over hishandsome young face with conscious embarrassment. He knew very well whatthe woman wanted--and he was powerless to respond to her appeal. 

"Mr. Lauriston, " she said in a half whisper, "when do you think you'll beable to let me have a bit of money? It's going on for six weeks now, youknow, and I'm that put to it, what with the rent, and the rates--"

Andrew Lauriston shook his head--not in denial, but in sheer perplexity. 

"Mrs. Flitwick, " he answered, "I'll give you your money the very minute Iget hold of it! I told you the other day I'd sold two stories--well, I'veasked to be paid for them at once, and the cheque might be here by anypost. And I'm expecting another cheque, too--I'm surprised they aren'tboth here by this time. The minute they arrive, I'll settle with you. I'mwanting money myself--as badly as you are!"

"I know that, Mr. Lauriston, " assented Mrs. Flitwick, "and I wouldn'tbother you if I wasn't right pressed, myself. But there's the landlord atme--he wants money tonight. And--you'll excuse me for mentioning it--but, till you get your cheques, Mr. Lauriston, why don't you raise a bit ofready money?"

Lauriston looked round at his landlady with an air of surprised enquiry. 

"And how would I do that?" he asked. 

"You've a right good gold watch, Mr. Lauriston, " she answered. "Anypawnbroker--and there's plenty of 'em, I'm sure!--'ud lend you a fewpounds on that. Perhaps you've never had occasion to go to a pawnbrokerbefore? No?--well, and I hadn't once upon a time, but I've had to, whetheror no, since I came to letting lodgings, and if I'd as good a watch asyours is, I wouldn't go without money in my pocket! If you've money comingin, you can always get your goods back--and I should be thankful forsomething, Mr. Lauriston, if it was but a couple o' pounds. My landlord'sthat hard--"

Lauriston turned and picked up his hat. 

"All right, Mrs. Flitwick, " he said quietly. "I'll see what I can do. I--I'd never even thought of it. "

When the woman had gone away, closing the door behind her, he pulled thewatch out of his pocket and looked at it--an old-fashioned, good, goldwatch, which had been his father's. No doubt a pawnbroker would lend moneyon it. But until then he had never had occasion to think of pawnbrokers. He had come to London nearly two years before, intending to make name, fame, and fortune by his pen. He had a little money to be going on with--when he came. It had dwindled steadily, and it had been harder to replaceit than he had calculated for. And at last there he was, in that cheaplodging, and at the end of his resources, and the cheque for his first twoaccepted stories had not arrived. Neither had a loan which, sorely againsthis will, he had been driven to request from the only man he could thinkof--an old schoolmate, far away in Scotland. He had listened for thepostman's knock, hoping it would bring relief, for four long days--and notone letter had come, and he was despairing and heartsick. But--there wasthe watch!

He went out presently, and on the stair, feebly lighted by a jet of gas, he ran up against a fellow-lodger--a young Jew, whom he knew by the nameof Mr. Melchior Rubinstein, who occupied the rooms immediately beneath hisown. He was a quiet, affable little person, with whom Lauriston sometimesexchanged a word or two--and the fact that he sported rings on hisfingers, a large pin in his tie, and a heavy watch-chain, which was eitherreal gold or a very good imitation, made Lauriston think that he wouldgive him some advice. He stopped him--with a shy look, and an awkwardblush. 

"I say!" he said. "I--the fact is, I'm a bit hard up--temporarily, youknow--and I want to borrow some money on my watch. Could you tell me wherethere's a respectable pawnbroker's?"

Melky--known to every one in the house by that familiar substitute for hismore pretentious name--turned up the gas-jet and then held out a slender, long-fingered hand. "Let's look at the watch, " he said curtly, in a soft, lisping voice. "I know more than a bit about watches, mister. "

Lauriston handed the watch over and watched Melky inquisitively as helooked at it, inside and out, in a very knowing and professional way. Melky suddenly glanced at him. "Now, you wouldn't like to sell this herebit of property, would you, Mr. Lauriston?" he enquired, almostwheedlingly. "I'll give you three quid for it--cash down. "

"Thank you--but I wouldn't sell it for worlds, " replied Lauriston. 

"Say four quid, then, " urged Melky. "Here!--between friends, I'll give youfour-ten! Spot cash, mind you!"

"No!" said Lauriston. "It belonged to my father. I don't want to sell--Iwant to borrow. "

Melky pushed the watch back into its owner's hand. 

"You go round into Praed Street, mister, " he said, in business-likefashion. "You'll see a shop there with Daniel Multenius over it. He's arelation o' mine--he'll do what you want. Mention my name, if you like. He'll deal fair with you. And if you ever want to sell, don't forget me. "

Lauriston laughed, and went down the stairs, and out into the dismalevening. It was only a step round to Praed Street, and within five minutesof leaving Melky he was looking into Daniel Multenius's window. Heremembered now that he had often looked into it, without noticing the oddname above it. It was a window in which there were all sorts of curiousthings, behind a grille of iron bars, from diamonds and pearls to oldivory and odds and ends of bric-à-brac. A collector of curiosities wouldhave found material in that window to delay him for half-an-hour--butLauriston only gave one glance at it before hastening down a dark side-passage to a door, over which was a faintly-illuminated sign, showing thewords: PLEDGE OFFICE. 

He pushed open that door and found himself before several small, boxed-offcompartments, each just big enough to contain one person. They were allempty at that moment; he entered one, and seeing nobody about, tappedgently on the counter. He expected to see some ancient and Hebraic figurepresent itself--instead, light steps came from some recess of the shop, and Lauriston found himself gazing in surprise at a young and eminentlypretty girl, who carried some fancy needle-work in her hand, and lookedover it at him out of a pair of large, black eyes. For a moment the twogazed at each other, in silence. 

"Yes?" said the girl at last. "What can I do for you?"

Lauriston found his tongue. 

"Er--is Mr. Multenius in?" he asked. "I--the fact is, I want to see him. "

"Mr. Multenius is out, " answered the girl. "But I'm in charge--if it'sbusiness. "

She was quietly eyeing Lauriston over, and she saw his fresh-complexionedface colour vividly. 

"I do my grandfather's business when he's out, " she continued. "Do youwant to borrow some money?"

Lauriston pulled out the watch, with more blushes, and pushed it towardsher. 

"That's just it, " he answered. "I want to borrow money on that. A friendof mine--fellow-lodger--Mr. Melky Rubinstein--said I could borrowsomething here. That's a real good watch, you know. "

The girl glanced at her customer with a swift and almost whimsicalrecognition of his innocence, and almost carelessly picked up the watch. 

"Oh, Melky sent you here, did he?" she said, with a smile. "I see!" Shelooked the watch over, and snapped open the case. Then she glanced atLauriston. "How much do you want on this?" she asked. 

CHAPTER TWO

MRS. GOLDMARK'S EATING-HOUSE

Lauriston thrust his hands in his pockets and looked at the girl in sheerperplexity. She was a very pretty, dark girl, nearly as tall as himself, slender and lissom of figure, and decidedly attractive. There was evidentsense of fun and humour in her eyes, and about the corners of her lips: hesuddenly got an idea that she was amused at his embarrassment. 

"How much can you lend me?" he asked. "What--what's it worth?"

"No, that's not it!" she answered. "It's--what do you want to borrow?You're not used to pledging things, are you?"

"No, " replied Lauriston. "This is the first time. Can--can you lend me afew pounds?"

The girl picked up the watch again, and again, examined it. 

"I'll lend you three pounds fifteen on it, " she said suddenly, inbusiness-like tones. "That do?"

"Thank you, " replied Lauriston. "That'll do very well--I'm much obliged. Isuppose I can have it back any time. "

"Any time you bring the money, and pay the interest, " replied the girl. "Within twelve calendar months and seven days. " She picked up a pen andbegan to fill out a ticket. "Got any copper?" she asked presently. 

"Copper?" exclaimed Lauriston. "What for?"

"The ticket, " she answered. Then she gave him a quick glance and just asquickly looked down again. "Never mind!" she said. "I'll take it out ofthe loan. Your name and address, please. "

Lauriston presently took the ticket and the little pile of gold, silver, and copper which she handed him. And he lingered. 

"You'll take care of that watch, " he said, suddenly. "It was my father's, you see. "

The girl smiled, reassuringly, and pointed to a heavily-built safe in therear. 

"We've all sorts of family heirlooms in there, " she observed. "Makeyourself easy. "

Lauriston thanked her, raised his hat, and turned away--unwillingly. Hewould have liked an excuse to stop longer--and he did not quite know why. But he could think of none, so he went--with a backward look when he gotto the door. The pretty pawnbroker smiled and nodded. And the next momenthe was out in the street, with money in his pocket, and a strange sense ofrelief, which was mingled with one of surprise. For he had lived for theprevious four days on a two-shilling piece--and there, all the time, closeby him, had been a place where you could borrow money, easily and verypleasantly. 

His first thought was to hurry to his lodgings and pay his landlady. Heowed her six weeks' rent, at ten shillings a week--that would take threepounds out of the money he had just received. But he would still have overfourteen shillings to be going on with--and surely those expected letterswould come within the next few postal deliveries. He had asked the editorwho had taken two short stories from him to let him have a cheque forthem, and in his inexperience had expected to see it arrive by return ofpost. Also he had put his pride in his pocket, and had written a longletter to his old schoolmate, John Purdie, in far-away Scotland, explaining his present circumstances, and asking him, for old times' sake, to lend him some money until he had finished and sold a novel, which, hewas sure, would turn out to be a small gold-mine. John Purdie, he knew, was now a wealthy young man--successor to his father in a fine business;Lauriston felt no doubt that he would respond. And meantime, till theexpected letters came, he had money--and when you have lived for four dayson two shillings, fourteen shillings seems a small fortune. Certainly, within the last half-hour, life had taken on a roseate tinge--all due to avisit to the pawnshop. 

Hurrying back along Praed Street, Lauriston's steps were suddenlyarrested. He found himself unconsciously hurrying by an old-fashionedeating-house, from whence came an appetizing odour of cooking food. Heremembered then that he had eaten nothing for four-and-twenty hours. Hislandlady supplied him with nothing: ever since he had gone to her he haddone his own catering, going out for his meals. The last meal, on theprevious evening, had been a glass of milk and a stale, though sizablebun, and now he felt literally ravenous. It was only by an effort that hecould force himself to pass the eating-house; once beyond its door, heran, ran until he reached his lodgings and slipped three sovereigns intoMrs. Flitwick's hands. 

"That'll make us right to this week end, Mrs. Flitwick, " he said. "Put thereceipt in my room. "

"And greatly obliged I am to you, Mr. Lauriston, " answered the landlady. "And sorry, indeed, you should have had to put yourself to the trouble, but--"

"All right, all right--no trouble--no trouble at all, " exclaimedLauriston. "Quite easy, I assure you!"

He ran out of the house again and back to where he knew there was food. Hewas only one-and-twenty, a well-built lad, with a healthy appetite, which, until very recently, had always been satisfied, and just then he wasfeeling that unless he ate and drank, something--he knew not what--wouldhappen. He was even conscious that his voice was weakening, when, havingentered the eating-house and dropped into a seat in one of the littleboxes into which the place was divided, he asked the waitress for the foodand drink which he was now positively aching for. And he had eaten aplateful of fish and two boiled eggs and several thick slices of bread andbutter, and drunk the entire contents of a pot of tea before he evenlifted his eyes to look round him. But by that time he was conscious ofsatisfaction, and he sat up and inspected the place to which he hadhurried so eagerly. And in the same moment he once more saw Melky. 

Melky had evidently just entered the little eating-house. Evidently, too, he was in no hurry for food or drink. He had paused, just within theentrance, at a desk which stood there, whereat sat Mrs. Goldmark, theproprietress, a plump, pretty young woman, whose dark, flashing eyesturned alternately from watching her waitresses to smiling on hercustomers as they came to the desk to pay their bills. Melky, his smartbilly-cock hat cocked to one side, his sporting-looking overcoat adornedwith a flower, was evidently paying compliments to Mrs. Goldmark as heleaned over her desk: she gave him a playful push and called to a waitressto order Mr. Rubinstein a nice steak. And Melky, turning from her with awell satisfied smile, caught sight of Lauriston, and sauntered down to thetable at which he sat. 

"Get your bit of business done all right?" he asked, confidentially, as hetook a seat opposite his fellow-lodger and bent towards him. "Find the oldgent accommodating?"

"I didn't see him, " answered Lauriston. "I saw a young lady. "

"My cousin Zillah, " said Melky. "Smart girl, that, mister--worth a pile o'money to the old man--she knows as much about the business as what hedoes! You wouldn't think, mister, " he went on in his soft, lisping tones, "but that girl's had a college education--fact! Old Daniel, he took her tolive with him when her father and mother died, she being a little 'unthen, and he give her--ah, such an education as I wish I'd had--see? She'squite the lady--is Zillah--but sticks to the old shop--not half, neither!"

"She seems very business-like, " remarked Lauriston, secretly pleased thathe had now learned the pretty pawnbroker's name. "She soon did what Iwanted. "

"In the blood, " said Melky, laconically. "We're all of us in that sort o'business, one way or another. Now, between you and me, mister, what didshe lend you on that bit o' stuff?"

"Three pounds fifteen, " replied Lauriston. 

"That's about it, " assented Melky, with a nod. He leaned a little nearer. "You don't want to sell the ticket?" he suggested. "Give you a couple o'quid for it, if you do. "

"You seem very anxious to buy that watch, " said Lauriston, laughing. "No--I don't want to sell the ticket--not I! I wouldn't part with that watchfor worlds. "

"Well, if you don't, you don't, " remarked Melky. "And as to wanting tobuy--that's my trade. I ain't no reg'lar business--I buy and sell, anything that comes handy, in the gold and silver line. And as you ain'tgoing to part with that ticker on no consideration, I'll tell you whatit's worth, old as it is. Fifteen quid!"

"That's worth knowing, any way, " said Lauriston. "I shall always havesomething by me then, while I have that. You'd have made a profit of anice bit, then, if I'd sold it to you?"

"It 'ud be a poor world, mister, if you didn't get no profit, wouldn'tit?" assented Melky calmly. "We're all of us out to make profit. Lookhere!--between you and me--you're a lit'ry gent, ain't you? Write a bit, what? Do you want to earn a fiver--comfortable?"

"I should be very glad, " replied Lauriston. 

"There's a friend o' mine, " continued Melky, "wholesale jeweller, downShoreditch way, wants to get out a catalogue. He ain't no lit'ry powers, d'you see? Now, he'd run to a fiver--cash down--if some writing feller 'udtouch things up a bit for him, like. Lor' bless you!--it wouldn't take youmore'n a day's work! What d'ye say to it?"

"I wouldn't mind earning five pounds at that, " answered Lauriston. 

"Right-oh!" said Melky. "Then some day next week, I'll take you down tosee him--he's away till then. And--you'll pay me ten per cent. On the bito' business, won't you, mister? Business is business, ain't it?"

"All right!" agreed Lauriston. "That's a bargain, of course. "

Melky nodded and turned to his steak, and Lauriston presently left him andwent away. The plump lady at the desk gave him a smile as she handed himhis change. 

"Hope to see you again, sir, " she said. 

Lauriston went back to his room, feeling that the world had changed. Hehad paid his landlady, he had silver and copper in his pocket, he had thechance of earning five pounds during the coming week--and he expected acheque for his two stories by every post. And if John Purdie made him theloan he had asked for, he would be able to devote a whole month tofinishing his novel--and then, perhaps, there would be fame and riches. The dismal November evening disappeared in a dream of hope. 

But by the end of the week hope was dropping to zero again with Lauriston. No letters had arrived--either from John Purdie or the editor. On theSunday morning he was again face to face with the last half-crown. He laidout his money very cautiously that day, but when he had paid for a frugaldinner at a cheap coffee-shop, he had only a shilling left. He wanderedinto Kensington Gardens that Sunday afternoon, wondering what he had bestdo next. And as he stood by the railings of the ornamental water, watchingthe water-fowls' doings, somebody bade him good-day, and he turned to findthe pretty girl of the pawnshop standing at his side and smiling shyly athim. 

CHAPTER THREE

THE DEAD MAN

Lauriston was thinking about Zillah at the very moment in which she spoketo him: the memory of her dark eyes and the friendly smile that she hadgiven him as he left the pawnshop had come as a relief in the midst of hisspeculations as to his immediate future. And now, as he saw her real self, close to him, evidently disposed to be friendly, he blushed like any girl, being yet at that age when shyness was still a part of his character. Zillah blushed too--but she was more self-possessed than Lauriston. 

"I've been talking to my Cousin Melky about you, " she said quickly. "Or, rather, he's been talking to me. He says he's going to introduce you to aman who wants his catalogue put in shape--for five pounds. Don't you do itfor five pounds! I know that man--charge him ten!"

Lauriston moved away with her down the walk. 

"Oh, but I couldn't do that, now!" he said eagerly. "You see I promisedI'd do it for five. "

Zillah gave him a quick glance. 

"Don't you be silly!" she said. "When anybody like Melky offers you fivepounds for anything, ask them double. They'll give it. You don't know muchabout money matters, do you?"

Lauriston laughed, and gaining confidence, gave the girl a knowing look. 

"Not much, " he admitted, "else I wouldn't have had to do that bit ofbusiness with you the other day. "

"Oh--that!" she said indifferently. "That's nothing. You'd be astonishedif you knew what sort of people just have to run round to us, now andthen--I could tell you some secrets! But--I guessed you weren't very wellup in money matters, all the same. Writing people seldom are. "

"I suppose you are?" suggested Lauriston. 

"I've been mixed up in them all my life, more or less, " she answered. "Couldn't help being, with my surroundings. You won't think me inquisitiveif I ask you something? Were you--hard up--when you came round the othernight?"

"Hard up's a mild term, " replied Lauriston, frankly. "I hadn't a penny!"

"Excepting a gold watch worth twelve or fifteen pounds, " remarked Zillah, drily. "And how long had you been like that?"

"Two or three days--more or less, " answered Lauriston. "You see, I've beenexpecting money for more than a week--that was it. "

"Has it come?" she asked. 

"No--it hasn't, " he replied, with a candid blush. "That's a fact!"

"Will it come--soon?" she demanded. 

"By George!--I hope so!" he exclaimed. "I'll be hard up again, if itdoesn't. "

"And then you offer to do for five what you might easily get ten for!" shesaid, almost reproachfully. "Let me give you a bit of advice--never accepta first offer. Stand out for a bit more--especially from anybody like mycousin Melky. "

"Is Melky a keen one, then?" enquired Lauriston. 

"Melky's a young Jew, " said Zillah, calmly. "I'm not--I'm half-and-half--amixture. My mother was Jew--my father wasn't. Well--if you want money tobe going on with, and you've got any more gold watches, you know where tocome. Don't you ever go with empty pockets in London while you've got abit of property to pledge! You're not a Londoner, of course?"

"I'm a Scotsman!" said Lauriston. 

"To be sure--I knew it by your tongue, " asserted Zillah. "And trying tomake a living by writing! Well, you'll want courage--and money. Have youhad any luck?"

"I've sold two stories, " answered Lauriston, who by that time was feelingas if the girl was an old friend. "They come to twenty pounds for the two, at the rate that magazine pays, and I've asked for a cheque--it's that I'mwaiting for. It ought to come--any time. "

"Oh, but I know that game!" said Zillah. "I've two friends--girls--whowrite. I know how they have to wait--till publication, or till next pay-day. What a pity that some of you writers don't follow some otherprofession that would bring in a good income--then you could do yourwriting to please yourselves, and not be dependent on it. Haven't youthought of that?"

"Often!" answered Lauriston. "And it wouldn't do--for me, anyway. I'vemade my choice. I'll stick to my pen--and swim or sink with it. And I'mnot going to sink!"

"That's the way to talk--to be sure!" said the girl. "But--keep yourselfin money, if you can. Don't go without money for three days when you'veanything you can raise money on. You see how practical I am! But you'vegot to be in this world. Will you tell me something?"

"It strikes me, " answered Lauriston, looking at her narrowly and bringingthe colour to her cheeks, "that I'm just about getting to this--that I'dtell you anything! And so--what is it?"

"How much money have you left?" she asked softly. 

"Precisely a shilling--and a copper or two, " he answered. 

"And--if that cheque doesn't arrive?" she suggested. 

"Maybe I'll be walking round to Praed Street again, " he said, laughing. "I've a bit of what you call property, yet. "

The girl nodded, and turned towards a side-walk that led across theGardens. 

"All right, " she said. "Don't think me inquisitive--I don't like to thinkof--of people like you being hard up: I'm not wrapped up in business asmuch as all that. Let's talk of something else--tell me what you writeabout. "

Lauriston spent the rest of that afternoon with Zillah, strolling aboutKensington Gardens. He had lived a very lonely life since coming toLondon, and it was a new and pleasant experience to him to have anintelligent companion to talk to. There was a decided sense ofexhilaration within him when he finally left her; as for Zillah, she wenthomewards in a very thoughtful mood, already conscious that she was morethan half in love with this good-looking lad who had come so strangelyinto her life. And at the corner of Praed Street she ran up against Mr. Melky Rubinstein, and button-holed him, and for ten minutes talkedseriously to him. Melky, who had good reasons of his own for keeping inhis cousin's favour, listened like a lamb to all she had to say, and wentoff promising implicit obedience to her commandments. 

"Zillah ain't half gone on that chap!" mused Melky, as he pursued his way. "Now, ain't it extraordinary that a girl who'll come into a perfectfortune should go and fall head over ears in love with a red-headed youngfeller what ain't got a penny to bless hisself with! Not but what he ain'tgot good looks--and brains. And brains is brains, when all's said!"

That night, as Lauriston sat writing in his shabby little room, a knockcame at his door--the door opened, and Melky slid in, laying his finger tothe side of his large nose in token of confidence. 

"Hope I ain't interrupting, " said Melky. "I say, mister, I been thinkingabout that catalogue business. Now I come to sort of reflect on it, Ithink my friend'll go to ten pound. So we'll say ten pound--what? And I'lltake you to see him next Friday. And I say, mister--if a pound or two onaccount 'ud be of any service--say the word, d'ye see?"

With this friendly assurance, Melky plunged his hand into a hip-pocket, and drew out some gold, which he held towards Lauriston on his open palm. 

"Two or three pound on account, now, mister?" he said, ingratiatingly. "You're welcome as the flowers in May!"

But Lauriston shook his head; he had already decided on a plan of his own, if the expected remittance did not arrive next morning. 

"No, thank you, " he answered. "It's uncommonly good of you--but I canmanage very well indeed--I can, really! Next Friday, then--I'll go withyou. I'm very much obliged to you. "

Melky slipped his money into his pocket--conscious of having done hispart. "Just as you like, mister, " he said. "But you was welcome, you know. Next Friday, then--and you can reckon on cash down for this job. "

The Monday morning brought neither of the expected letters to Lauriston. But he had not spoken without reason when he said to Zillah that he had abit of property to fall back upon--now that he knew how ready money couldeasily be raised. He had some pledgeable property in his trunk--and whenthe remittances failed to arrive, he determined to avail himself of it. Deep down in a corner of the trunk he had two valuable rings--all that hismother had left him, with the exception of two hundred pounds, with whichhe had ventured to London, and on which he had lived up to then. He gotthe rings out towards the end of Monday afternoon, determining to takethem round to Daniel Multenius and raise sufficient funds on them to lasthim for, at any rate, another month or two. He had little idea of the realvalue of such articles, and he had reasons of his own for not showing therings to Melky Rubinstein; his notion was to wait until evening, when hewould go to the pawnshop at about the same time as on his previous visit, in the hope of finding Zillah in charge again. After their meeting andtalk of the afternoon before, he felt that she would do business with himin a sympathetic spirit--and if he could raise twenty pounds on the ringshe would be free of all monetary anxiety for many a long week to come. 

It was half-past five o'clock of that Monday evening when Lauriston, forthe second time, turned into the narrow passage which led to the pawnshopdoor. He had already looked carefully through the street window, in thehope of seeing Zillah inside the front shop. But there was no Zillah to beseen; the front shop was empty. Nor did Zillah confront him when hestepped into the little boxed-in compartment in the pawnshop. There was acurious silence in the place--broken only by the quiet, regular ticking ofa clock. That ticking grew oppressive during the minute or two that hewaited expecting somebody to step forward. He rapped on the counter atlast--gently at first, then more insistently. But nobody came. The clock--hidden from his sight--went on ticking. 

Lauriston bent over the counter at last and craned his neck to look intothe open door of a little parlour which lay behind the shop. The nextinstant, with no thought but of the exigencies of the moment, he had leaptover the partition and darted into the room. There, stretched out acrossthe floor, his head lying on the hearthrug, his hands lying inert andnerveless at his sides, lay an old man, grey-bearded, venerable--DanielMultenius, no doubt. He lay very still, very statuesque--and Lauriston, bending over and placing a trembling hand on the high, white forehead, knew that he was dead. 

He started up--his only idea that of seeking help. The whole place was sostill that he knew he was alone with the dead in it. Instinctively, he ranthrough the front shop to the street door--and into the arms of a man whowas just entering. 

CHAPTER FOUR

THE PLATINUM SOLITAIRE

The newcomer, an elderly, thick-set man, who, in spite of his plainclothes, looked as if he were an official of some sort and carried somedocuments in his hand, at which he was glancing as he entered, started andexclaimed as Lauriston, in his haste, ran up against him. "Hullo!" hesaid. "What's the matter? You seem in a hurry, young fellow!"

Lauriston, almost out of breath with excitement, turned and pointed to theopen door of the little parlour. 

"There's an old man--lying in there--dead!" he whispered. "A grey-beardedold man--is it the pawn-broker--Mr. Multenius?"

The man stared, craned his neck to glance in the direction whichLauriston's shaking finger indicated, and then started forward. But hesuddenly paused, and motioned Lauriston to go first--and before followinghim he closed the street door. 

"Now then, where?" he said. "Dead, do you say?" He followed Lauriston intothe parlour, uttered a sharp exclamation as he caught sight of therecumbent figure, and, bending down, laid a hand on the forehead. "Dead, right enough, my lad!" he muttered. "Been dead some minutes, too. But--where's the girl--the grand-daughter? Have you seen anybody?"

"Not a soul!" answered Lauriston. "Since I came in, the whole place hasbeen as still as--as it is now!"

The man stared at him for a second or two, silently; then, as if he knewthe ins and outs of the establishment, he strode to an inner door, threwit open and revealed a staircase. 

"Hullo there!" he called loudly. "Hullo! Miss Wildrose! Are you there?"

This was the first time Lauriston had heard Zillah's surname: even in themidst of that startling discovery, it struck him as a very poetical one. But he had no time to reflect on it--the man turned back into the parlour. 

"She must be out, " he said. "Do you say you found him?"

"Yes--I found him, " answered Lauriston. "Just now. "

"And what were you doing here?" asked the man. "Who are you?"

Lauriston fancied he detected a faint note of suspicion in thesequestions, and he drew himself up, with a flush on his face. 

"My name's Andrew Lauriston, " he answered. "I live close by. I came in on--business. Who are you?"

"Well, if it comes to that, my lad, " said the man, "I'm Detective-SergeantAyscough--known well enough around these parts! I came to see the oldgentleman about these papers. Now--what was your business, then?"

He was watching Lauriston very keenly, and Lauriston, suddenly realizingthat he was in an awkward position, determined on candour. 

"Well, if you really want to know, " he said, "I came to borrow some money--on these rings. "

And he opened his left hand and showed the detective the two rings whichhe had taken from his trunk--not half-an-hour before. 

"Your property?" asked Ayscough. 

"Of course they're my property!" exclaimed Lauriston. "Whose else shouldthey be?"

Ayscough's glance wandered from the rings to a table which stood, a littleto one side, in the middle of the parlour. Lauriston turned in thatdirection, also. Two objects immediately met his eye. On the table stood asmall tray, full of rings--not dissimilar in style and appearance to thosewhich he held in his hand: old-fashioned rings. The light from the gas-brackets above the mantel-piece caught the facets of the diamonds in thoserings and made little points of fire; here and there he saw the shimmer ofpearls. But there was another object. Close by the tray of old rings lay abook--a beautifully bound book, a small quarto in size, with muchelaborate gold ornament on the back and side, and gilt clasps holding theheavy leather binding together. It looked as if some hand had recentlythrown this book carelessly on the table. 

But Ayscough gave little, if any, attention to the book: his eyes werefixed on the rings in the tray--and he glanced from them to Lauriston'srings. 

"Um!" he said presently. "Odd that you have a couple of rings, young man, just like--those! Isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" demanded Lauriston, flushing scarlet. "You don'tsuggest--"

"Don't suggest anything--just now, " answered the detective, quietly. "Butyou must stop here with me, until I find out more. Come to the door--wemust have help here. "

Lauriston saw there was nothing to do but to obey, and he followedAyscough to the street door. The detective opened it, looked out, andwaiting a few minutes, beckoned to a policeman who presently strolledalong. After a whispered word or two, the policeman went away, andAyscough beckoned Lauriston back into the shop. 

"Now, " he said, "there'll be some of our people and a surgeon along in afew minutes--before they come, just tell me your story. You're an honest-looking young chap--but you must admit that it looks a bit queer that Ishould find you running out of this shop, old Multenius dead inside hisparlour, and you with a couple of rings in your possession which lookuncommonly like his property! Just tell me how it came about. "

Lauriston told him the plain truth--from the pawning of the watch to thepresent visit. Ayscough watched him narrowly--and at the end nodded hishead. 

"That sounds like a straight tale, Mr. Lauriston, " he said. "I'm inclinedto believe every word you say. But I shall have to report it, and all thecircumstances, and you'll have to prove that these two rings were yourmother's, and all that--and you must stay here till the doctor comes withour people. Queer that the old man should be alone! I wonder where hisgrand-daughter is?"

But just then the street door opened and Zillah came in, a big bunch offlowers under one arm, some small parcels in the other. At the sight ofthe two men she started; crimsoned as she saw Lauriston; paled again asshe noticed that Ayscough was evidently keeping an eye on him. 

"Mr. Ayscough!" she exclaimed. "What's this?--is something the matter?What are you doing here?" she went on hurriedly, turning to Lauriston. "Inside the shop! What's happened?--tell me, one of you?"

The detective purposely kept himself and Lauriston between Zillah and theopen door at the rear of the shop. He made a kindly motion of his headtowards her. 

"Now, my dear!" he said. "Don't get upset--your grandfather was getting avery old man, you know--and we can't expect old gentlemen to live forever. Take it quietly, now!"

The girl turned and laid her flowers and parcels on the counter. Lauriston, watching her anxiously, saw that she was nerving herself to bebrave. 

"That means--he's dead?" she said. "I am quiet--you see I'm quiet. Tell mewhat's happened--you tell me, " she added, glancing at Lauriston. "Tell me--now!"

"I came in and found no one here, and I looked round through the door intothe parlour there, " answered Lauriston, "and I saw your grandfather lyingon the floor. So I jumped over the counter and went to him. "

Zillah moved forward as if to go into the parlour. But the detectivestopped her, glancing from her to Lauriston. 

"You know this young man, Miss Wildrose?" he asked. "You've met himbefore?"

"Yes, " replied Zillah, confidently. "He's Mr. Lauriston. Let me go inthere, please. Can nothing be done?"

But Ayscough only shook his head. There was nothing to be done--but toawait the arrival of the doctor. They followed the girl into the parlourand stood by while she bent over the dead man. She made no demonstrationof grief, and when Ayscough presently suggested that she should goupstairs until the doctor had come, she went quietly away. 

"Hadn't we better lift him on that sofa?" suggested Lauriston. 

"Not till our people and the police-surgeon have seen him, " answeredAyscough, shaking his head. "I want to know all about this--he may havedied a natural death--a seizure of some sort--and again, he mayn't--They'll be here in a minute. "

Lauriston presently found himself a passive spectator while a police-inspector, another man in plain clothes, and the doctor examined the body, after hearing Ayscough's account of what had just happened. He was awarethat he was regarded with suspicion--the inspector somewhat brusquely badehim stay where he was: it would, indeed, have been impossible to leave, for there was a policeman at the door, in which, by his superior's orders, he had turned the key. And there was a general, uncomfortable sort ofsilence in the place while the doctor busied himself about the body. 

"This man has been assaulted!" said the doctor, suddenly turning to theinspector. "Look here!--he's not only been violently gripped by the rightarm--look at that bruise--but taken savagely by the throat. There's nodoubt of that. Old and evidently feeble as he was, the shock would bequite enough to kill him. But--that's how it's been done, without adoubt. "

The inspector turned, looking hard at Lauriston. 

"Did you see anybody leaving the place when you entered?" he asked. 

"There was no one about here when I came in--either at the street door orat the side door, " replied Lauriston, readily. "The whole place was quiet--deserted--except for him. And--he was dead when I found him. "

The inspector drew Ayscough aside and they talked in whispers for a fewminutes, eyeing Lauriston now and then; eventually they approached him. 

"I understand you're known here, and that you live in the neighbourhood, "said the inspector. "You'll not object if the sergeant goes round with youto your lodgings--you'll no doubt be able to satisfy him about yourrespectability, and so on. I don't want to suggest anything--but--youunderstand?"

"I understand, " replied Lauriston. "I'll show or tell him anything helikes. I've told you the plain truth. "

"Go with him now, " directed the inspector; "you know what to do, Ayscough!"

Half an hour later, when the dead man had been carried to his room, andthe shop and house had been closed, Melky Rubinstein, who had come inwhile the police were still there, and had remained when they had gone, stood talking to Zillah in the upstairs sitting-room. Melky was unusuallygrave: Zillah had already gathered that the police had some suspicionabout Lauriston. 

"I'll go round there and see what the detective fellow's doing with him, "said Melky. "I ain't got no suspicion about him--not me! But--it's anawkward position--and them rings, too! Now, if he'd only ha' shown 'em tome, first, Zillah--see?"

"Do go, Melky!" urged Zillah tearfully. "Of course, he'd nothing to dowith it. Oh!--I wish I'd never gone out!"

Melky went downstairs. He paused for a moment in the little parlour, glancing meditatively at the place where the old man had been found dead. And suddenly his keen eyes saw an object which lay close to the fender, half hidden by a tassel of the hearthrug, and he stooped and picked it up--a solitaire stud, made of platinum, and ornamented with a curiousdevice. 

CHAPTER FIVE

THE TWO LETTERS

Once outside the shop, Lauriston turned sharply on the detective. 

"Look here!" he said. "I wish you'd just tell me the truth. Am Isuspected? Am I--in some way or other--in custody?"

Ayscough laughed quietly, wagging his head. 

"Certainly not in custody, " he answered. "And as to the other--well, youknow, Mr. Lauriston, supposing we put it in this way?--suppose you'd beenme, and I'd been you, half-an-hour ago? What would you have thought ifyou'd found me in the situation and under the circumstances in which Ifound you? Come, now!"

"Yes, " replied Lauriston, after a moment's reflection. "I suppose it'snatural that you should suspect me--finding me there, alone with the oldman. But--"

"It's not so much suspicion in a case of this sort, as a wish to satisfyone's self, " interrupted the detective. "You seem a gentleman-like youngfellow, and you may be all right. I want to know that you are--I'd like toknow that you are! It would be no satisfaction to me to fasten thisbusiness on you, I can assure you. And if you like to tell me aboutyourself, and how you came to go to Multenius's--why, it would be aswell. "

"There's not much to tell, " answered Lauriston. "I came from Scotland toLondon, two years ago or thereabouts, to earn my living by writing. I'd abit of money when I came--I've lived on it till now. I've just begun toearn something. I've been expecting a cheque for some work for these lastten or twelve days, but I was running short last week--so I went to thatplace to pawn my watch--I saw the young lady there. As my cheque hadn'tarrived today, I went there again to pawn those rings I told you about andshowed you. And--that's all. Except this--I was advised to go toMultenius's by a relation of theirs, Mr. Rubinstein, who lodges where Ido. He knows me. "

"Oh, Melky Rubinstein!" said Ayscough. "I know Melky--sharp chap he is. He sold me this pin I'm wearing. Well, that seems quite a straightforwardtale, Mr. Lauriston. I've no doubt all will be satisfactory. You'vefriends in London, of course?"

"No--none, " replied Lauriston. "And scarcely an acquaintance. I've kept tomyself--working hard: I've had no time--nor inclination, either--to makefriends. Here's the house where I lodge--it's not much of a place, butcome in. "

They had reached Mrs. Flitwick's house by that time, and Mrs. Flitwickherself was in the narrow, shabby passage as they entered. She immediatelyproduced two letters. 

"Here's two letters for you, Mr. Lauriston, " she said, with a sharp glanceat Ayscough. "One of 'em's a registered--I did sign for it. So I kept 'emmyself, instead of sending 'em up to your room. "

"Thank you, Mrs. Flitwick, " said Lauriston. He took the letters, saw thatthe writing on the registered envelope was his old friend John Purdie's, and that the other letter was from the magazine to which he had sold hisstories, and turned to Ayscough. "Come up to my room, " he continued. "We'll talk up there. "

Ayscough followed him up to his room--once inside, and the door shut, Lauriston tore open the letter from the magazine, and extracted a printedform and a cheque for twenty guineas. He took one look at them and thrustthem into the detective's hands. 

"There!" he said, with a sigh of mingled relief and triumph. "There's aproof of the truth of one statement I made to you! That's the expectedcheque I told you of. Excuse me while I look at the other letter. "

Out of the registered letter came a bank-note--for twenty pounds--and ahastily scribbled note which Lauriston eagerly read. "Dear old Andie, " itran, "I've only just got your letter, for I've been from home for afortnight, and had no letters sent on to me. Of course you'll make me yourbanker until your book's finished--and afterwards, too, if need be. Here'ssomething to be going on with--but I'm coming to London in a day or two, as it happens, and will go into the matter--I'll call on you as soon as Iarrive. Excuse this scrawl--post time. Always yours, John Purdie. "

Lauriston thrust that letter, too, into Ayscough's hands. 

"If I've no friends in London, there's proof of having one in my owncountry!" he exclaimed. "Ah!--if those letters had only come before I wentoff to Praed Street!"

"Just so!" agreed the detective, glancing the letters and theiraccompaniments over. "Well, I'm glad you're able to show me these, Mr. Lauriston, anyway. But now, about those rings--between you and me, I wishthey hadn't been so much like those that were lying in that tray on theold man's table. It's an unfortunate coincidence!--because some folksmight think, you know, that you'd just grabbed a couple of those as youleft the place. Eh?"

"My rings have been in that trunk for two or three years, " assertedLauriston. "They were my mother's, and I believe she'd had them for many ayear before she died. They may resemble those that we saw in that tray, but--"

"Well, I suppose you can bring somebody--if necessary, that is--to provethat they were your mother's, can't you?" asked Ayscough. "That'll makematters all right--on that point. And as for the rest--it's very lucky youknow Melky Rubinstein, and that the girl knew you as a customer. But, myfaith!--I wish you'd caught a glimpse of somebody leaving that shop! Forthere's no doubt the old man met his death by violence. "

"I know nothing of it, " said Lauriston, "I saw no one. "

Just then Melky came in. He glanced at the cheque and the bank-notes lyingon the table, and nodded to Lauriston as if he understood their presence. Then he turned to Ayscough, almost anxiously. 

"I say, Mr. Ayscough!" he said, deprecatingly. "You ain't going to be sounkind as to mix up this here young fellow in what's happened. S'elp me, Mr. Ayscough, I couldn't believe anything o' that sort about him, nohow--nor would my cousin, Zillah, what you know well enough, neither; he's asquiet as a lamb, Mr. Ayscough, is Mr. Lauriston--ain't I known him, lodging here as he does, this many a month? I'll give my word for him, anyway, Mr. Ayscough! And you police gentlemen know me. Don't you now, Mr. Ayscough?"

"Very well indeed, my boy!" agreed the detective, heartily. "And I'll tellyou what--I shall have to trouble Mr. Lauriston to go round with me to thestation, just to give a formal account of what happened, and a bit ofexplanation, you know--I'm satisfied myself about him, and so, no doubt, will our people be, but you come with us, Melky, and say a word or two--say you've known him for some time, d'ye see--it'll help. "

"Anything to oblige a friend, Mr. Ayscough, " said Melky. He motioned toLauriston to put his money in his pocket. "Glad to see your letters turnedup, " he whispered as they went downstairs. "I say!--a word in your ear--don't you tell these here police chaps any more than you need--I'll standup for you. "

The detective's report, a little questioning of Lauriston, and Melky'sfervent protestations on Lauriston's behalf, served to satisfy theauthorities at the police-station, and Lauriston was allowed to go--admonished by the inspector that he'd be wanted at the inquest, as themost important witness. He went out into the street with Melky. 

"Come and have a bit o' supper at Mrs. Goldmark's, " suggested Melky. "Ishall have my hands full tonight at the poor old man's, but I ain't hadnothing since dinner. "

Lauriston, however, excused himself. He wanted to go home and writeletters--at once. But he promised to look round at the pawnshop later inthe evening, to see if he could be of any use, and to give Melky a fullaccount of his finding of the old pawnbroker. 

"Ah!" remarked Melky, as they pushed at the door of the eating-house. "Andain't it going to be a nice job to find the man that scragged him?--Idon't think! But I'm going to take a hand at that game, mister!--let alonethe police. "

Mrs. Goldmark was out. She had heard the news, said the waitress who wasleft in charge, and had gone round to do what she could for Miss Zillah. So Melky, deprived of the immediate opportunity of talk with Mrs. Goldmark, ordered his supper, and while he ate and drank, cogitated andreflected. And his thoughts ran chiefly on the platinum solitaire studwhich he had carefully bestowed in his vest pocket. 

It was Melky's firm belief--already--that the stud had been dropped inDaniel Multenius's back parlour by some person who had no business there--in other words by the old man's assailant. And ever since he had foundthe stud, Melky had been wondering and speculating on his chances offinding its owner. Of one thing he was already certain: that the owner, whoever he was, was no ordinary person. Ordinary, everyday persons do notwear studs or tie-pins on chains made of platinum--the most valuable ofall the metals. How came a solitaire stud, made of a metal far morevaluable than gold, and designed and ornamented in a peculiar fashion, tobe lying on the hearthrug of old Daniel Multenius's room? It was not to bebelieved that the old man had dropped it there--no, affirmed Melky tohimself, with conviction, that bit of personal property had been droppedthere, out of a loose shirt-cuff by some man who had called on Daniel notlong before Andie Lauriston had gone in, and who for some mysteriousreason had scragged the old fellow. And now the question was--who was thatman?

"Got to find that out, somehow!" mused Melky. "Else that poor chap'll bein a nice fix--s'elp me, he will! And that 'ud never do!"

Melky, in spite of his keenness as a business man, and the fact that fromboyhood he had had to fight the world by himself, had a peculiarly softheart--he tended altogether to verge on the sentimental. He had watchedLauriston narrowly, and had developed a decided feeling for him--moreover, he now knew that his cousin Zillah, hitherto adamant to many admirers, hadfallen in love with Lauriston: clearly, Lauriston must be saved. Melkyknew police ways and methods, and he felt sure that whatever Ayscough, agood-natured man, might think, the superior authorities would viewLauriston's presence in the pawnshop with strong suspicion. Therefore--thereal culprit must be found. And he, Melky Rubinstein--he must have a go atthat game. 

He finished his supper, thinking hard all the time he ate and drank;finally he approached the desk to pay his bill. The young woman whom Mrs. Goldmark had left in charge lifted the lid of the desk to get some change--and Melky's astonished eyes immediately fell on an object which lay ontop of a little pile of papers. That object was the duplicate of theplatinum solitaire which Melky had in his pocket. Without ceremony--beingwell known there--he at once picked it up. 

"What's this bit of jewellery?" he demanded. 

"That?" said the waitress, indifferently. "Oh, one of the girls picked itup the other day off a table where a stranger had been sitting--we thinkhe'd dropped it. Mrs. Goldmark says it's valuable, so she put it away, incase he comes again. But we haven't seen him since. "

Melky took a good look at the second stud. Then he put it back in thedesk, picked up his change, and went away--in significant silence. 

CHAPTER SIX

THE SPANISH MANUSCRIPT

Lauriston, walking back to his room after leaving Melky at the door of theeating-house, faced the situation in which an unfortunate combination ofcircumstances had placed him. Ayscough had been placable enough; theauthorities at the police-station had heard his own version of things withattention--but he was still conscious that he was under a certain amountof suspicion. More than that, he felt convinced that the police would keepan eye on him that night. Ayscough, indeed, had more than hinted that thatwould probably be done. For anything he knew, some plain-clothes man mightbe shadowing him even then--anyway, there had been no mistaking the almostperemptory request of the inspector that he should report himself at thepolice station in the morning. It was no use denying the fact--he wassuspected, in some degree. 

He knew where the grounds of suspicion lay--in his possession of tworings, which were undoubtedly very similar to the rings which lay in thetray that he and the detective had found on the table in the back-parlourof the pawnshop. It needed no effort on the part of one who had alreadyhad considerable experience in the construction of plots for stories, tosee how the police would build up a theory of their own. Here, they wouldsay, is a young fellow, who on his own confession, is so hard up, sopenniless, indeed, that he has had to pawn his watch. He has got to knowsomething of this particular pawnshop, and of its keepers--he watches thegirl leave; he ascertains that the old man is alone; he enters, probablyhe sees that tray of rings lying about; he grabs a couple of the rings;the old man interrupts him in the act; he seizes the old man, to silencehis outcries; the old man, feeble enough at any time, dies under theshock. A clear, an unmistakable case!

What was he, Lauriston, to urge against the acceptance of such a theory?He thought over everything that could be said on his behalf. Thefriendliness of Zillah and her cousin Melky towards him could bedismissed--that, when it came to it, would weigh little against the coldmarshalling of facts which a keen legal mind would put into the oppositescale. His own contention that it was scarcely probable that he shouldhave gone to the pawnshop except to pledge something, and that thatsomething was the rings, would also be swept aside, easily enough: hisreal object, the other side would say, had been robbery when the old manwas alone: what evidence had he that the two rings which he had in hishand when Ayscough found him hurrying out of the shop were really his?

Here, Lauriston knew he was in a difficulty. He had kept these two ringssafely hidden in his old-fashioned trunk ever since coming to London, andhad never shown them to a single person--he had, indeed, never seen themhimself for a long time until he took them out that afternoon. But wherewas his proof of that! He had no relations to whom he could appeal. Hismother had possessed an annuity; just sufficient to maintain her and herson, and to give Lauriston a good education: it had died with her, and allthat she had left him, to start life on, was about two hundred pounds andsome small personal belongings, of which the rings and his father's watchand chain were a part. And he remembered now that his mother had keptthose rings as securely put away as he had kept them since her death--until they came into his hands at her death he had only once seen them;she had shown them to him when he was a boy and had said they were veryvaluable. Was it possible that there was any one, far away in Scotland, who had known his mother and who would come forward--if need arose--andprove that those rings had been her property? But when he had put thisquestion to himself, he had to answer it with a direct negative--he knewof no one. 

There was one gleam of hope in this critical situation. John Purdie wascoming to London. Lauriston had always felt that he could rely on JohnPurdie, and he had just received proof of the value of his faith in hisold schoolmate. John Purdie would tell him what to do: he might evensuggest the names of some of Mrs. Lauriston's old friends. And perhaps theneed might not arise--there must surely be some clue to the oldpawnbroker's assailant; surely the police would go deeper into the matter. He cheered up at these thoughts, and having written replies to the twowelcome letters and asked John Purdie to see him immediately on hisarrival in town, he went out again to the post-office and to fulfil hispromise to Melky to call at the pawnshop. 

Lauriston was naturally of quick observation. He noticed now, as hestepped out into the ill-lighted, gloomy street that a man was pacing upand down in front of the house. This man took no notice of him as hepassed, but before he had reached Praed Street, he glanced around, and sawthat he was following him. He followed him to Spring Street post-office;he was in his rear when Lauriston reached the pawnshop. Idly andperfunctorily as the man seemed to be strolling about, Lauriston was surethat he was shadowing him--and he told Melky of the fact when Melkyadmitted him to the shop by the private door. 

"Likely enough, mister, " remarked Melky. "But I shouldn't bother myselfabout it if I were you. There'll be more known about this affair beforelong. Now, look here, " he continued, leading the way into the little back-parlour where Lauriston had found Daniel Multenius lying dead, "here's youand me alone--Zillah, she's upstairs, and Mrs. Goldmark is with her. Justyou tell me what you saw when you came in here, d'you see, Mr. Lauriston--never mind the police--just give me the facts. I ain't no fool, you know, and I'm going to work this thing out. "

Lauriston gave Melky a complete account of his connection with the matter:Melky checked off all the points on his long fingers. At the end he turnedto the table and indicated the finely-bound book which Lauriston hadnoticed when he and the detective had first looked round. 

"The police, " said Melky, "made Zillah lock up that tray o' rings that wasthere in a drawer what she had to clear out for 'em, and they've put aseal on it till tomorrow. They've got those rings of yours, too, mister, haven't they?"

"They said it would be best for me to leave them with them, " answeredLauriston. "Ayscough advised it. They gave me a receipt for them, youknow. "

"All right, " remarked Melky. "But there's something they ain't had thesense to see the importance of--that fine book there. Mister!--that therebook wasn't in this parlour, nor in this shop, nor in this house, at aquarter to five o'clock this afternoon, when my cousin Zillah went out, leaving the poor old man alone. She'll swear to that. Now then, whobrought it here--who left it here? Between the time Zillah went out, mister, and the time you come in, and found what you did find, somebody--somebody!--had been in here and left that book behind him! And--mark you!--it wasn't pawned, neither. That's a fact! And--it's no common book, that. Look at it, Mr. Lauriston--you'd ought to know something aboutbooks. Look at it!--s'elp me if I don't feel there's a clue in that therevolume, whoever it belongs to!"

Lauriston took the book in his hands. He had only glanced at it casuallybefore; now he examined it carefully, while Melky stood at his elbow, watching. The mysterious volume was certainly worthy of close inspection--a small quarto, wonderfully bound in old dark crimson morocco leather, andornamented on sides and back with curious gold arabesque work: a heavyclasp, also intricately wrought, held the boards together. Lauriston, something of a book lover, whose natural inclination was to spend his lastshilling on a book rather than on beef and bread, looked admiringly atthis fine specimen of the binder's art as he turned it over. 

"That's solid gold, isn't it?" he asked as he unfastened the clasp. "Youknow. "

"Solid gold it is, mister--and no error, " assented Melky. "Now, what'sinside? It ain't no blooming account-book, I'll bet!"

Lauriston opened the volume, to reveal leaves of old vellum, covered withbeautiful fine writing. He had sufficient knowledge of foreign languagesto know what he was looking at. 

"That's Spanish!" he said. "An old Spanish manuscript--and I should sayit's worth a rare lot of money. How could it have come here?"

Melky took the old volume out of Lauriston's hands, and put it away in acorner cupboard. 

"Ah, just so, mister!" he said. "But we'll keep that question toourselves--for awhile. Don't you say nothing to the police about thatthere old book--I'll give Zillah the tip. More hangs round that than weknow of yet. Now look here!--there'll be the opening of the inquesttomorrow. You be careful! Take my tip and don't let 'em get more out ofyou than's necessary. I'll go along with you. I'm going to stop heretonight--watch-dog, you know. Mrs. Goldmark and another friend's going tobe here as well, so Zillah'll have company. And I say, Zillah wants a wordwith you--stop here, and I'll send her down. "

Lauriston presently found himself alone with Zillah in the little parlour. She looked at him silently, with eyes full of anxiety: he suddenlyrealized that the anxiety was for himself. 

"Don't!" he said, moving close to her and laying his hand on her arm. "I'mnot afraid!"

Zillah lifted her large dark eyes to his. 

"Those rings?" she said. "You'll be able to account for them? The police, oh, I'm so anxious about you!"

"The rings are mine!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't matter what the police sayor think, or do, either--at least, it shan't matter. And--you're not to beanxious I've got a good friend coming from Scotland--Melky told you I'dhad two lots of good news tonight, didn't he?"

A moment later Lauriston was in the street--conscious that, without a wordspoken between them, he and Zillah had kissed each other. He went awaywith a feeling of exaltation--and he only laughed when he saw a man detachhimself from a group on the opposite side of the street and saunter slowlyafter him. Let the police shadow him--watch his lodgings all night, ifthey pleased--he had something else to think of. And presently, not eventroubling to look out of his window to see if there was a watcher there, he went to bed, to dream of Zillah's dark eyes. 

But when morning came, and Lauriston realized that a fateful day wasbefore him, his thoughts were not quite so rosy. He drew up his blind--there, certainly was a man pacing the opposite sidewalk. Evidently, he wasnot to escape surveillance; the official eye was on him! Supposing, beforethe day was out, the official hand was on him, too?

He turned from the window as he heard his newspaper thrust under his door. He had only one luxury--a copy of the _Times_ every morning. It was athree-penny _Times_ in those days, but he had always managed to findhis weekly eighteen pence for it. He picked it up now, and carelesslyglanced at its front page as he was about to lay it aside. The next momenthe was eagerly reading a prominent advertisement:

"Lost in a Holborn to Chapel Street Omnibus, about 4 o'clock yesterdayafternoon, a Spanish manuscript, bound in old crimson morocco. Whoever hasfound the same will be most handsomely rewarded on bringing it to SpencerLevendale, Esq. , M. P. , 591, Sussex Square, W. "

Lauriston read this twice over--and putting the paper in his pocket, finished his dressing and went straight to the police-station. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT

Melky Rubinstein came out of the side-passage by Multenius's shop asLauriston neared it; he, too, had a newspaper bulging from his coatpocket, and at sight of Lauriston he pulled it out and waved it excitedly. 

"What'd I tell you, mister?" exclaimed Melky, as Lauriston joined him, theshadowing plain-clothes man in his rear. "D'ye see this?" He pointed to anadvertisement in his own paper, which he had marked with blue pencil. "There y'are, Mr. Lauriston!--that identical old book what's inside theparlour--advertised for--handsome reward, too, in the _DailyTelegraph_! Didn't I say we'd hear more of it?"

Lauriston pulled out the _Times_ and indicated the Personal Column. 

"It's there, too, " he said. "This man, Mr. Levendale, is evidently veryanxious to recover his book. And he's lost no time in advertising for it, either! But--however did it get to Multenius's?

"Mister!" said Melky, solemnly. "We'll have to speak to the police--now. There's going to be a fine clue in that there book. I didn't mean to saynothing to the police about it, just yet, but after this hereadvertisement, t'ain't no use keeping the thing to ourselves. Come onround to the police-station. "

"That's just where I was going, " replied Lauriston. "Let's get hold ofAyscough. "

Ayscough was standing just inside the police-station when they went up thesteps; he, too, had a newspaper in his hands, and at sight of them hebeckoned them to follow him into an office in which two or three otherpolice officials were talking. He led Lauriston and Melky aside. 

"I say!" he said. "Here's a curious thing! That book we noticed on thetable in Multenius's back room last night--that finely bound book--it'sadvertised for in the _Daily Mail_--handsome reward offered. "

"Yes, and in the _Times_, too--and in the _Daily Telegraph_, "said Lauriston. "Here you are--just the same advertisement. It's veryevident the owner's pretty keen about getting it back. "

Ayscough glanced at the two newspapers, and then beckoned to a constablewho was standing near the door. 

"Jim!" he said, as the man came up. "Just slip across to the newsagent'sover there and get me the _News_, the _Chronicle_, the _Standard_, the _Morning Post_. If the owner's as keen as all that, " he added, turning back to Lauriston, "he'll have put that advertisement in allthe morning papers, and I'd like to make sure. What's known aboutthat book at the shop?" he asked, glancing at Melky. "Does yourcousin know anything?"

Melky's face assumed its most solemn expression. 

"Mister!" he said earnestly. "There ain't nothing known at the shop aboutthat there book, except this here. It wasn't there when my cousin Zillahleft the old man alone at a quarter to five yesterday afternoon. It wasthere when this here gentleman found the old man. But it hadn't beenpledged, nor yet sold, Mr. Ayscough--There'd ha' been an entry in thebooks if it had been taken in pawn, or bought across the counter--andthere's no entry. Now then--who'd left it there?"

Another official had come up to the group--one of the men who hadquestioned Lauriston the night before. He turned to Lauriston as Melkyfinished. 

"You don't know anything about this book?" he asked. 

"Nothing--except that Mr. Ayscough and I saw it lying on the table in theback room, close by that tray of rings, " replied Lauriston. "I wasattracted by the binding, of course. "

"Where's the book, now?" asked the official. 

"Put safe away, mister, " replied Melky. "It's all right. But this heregentleman what's advertising for it--"

Just then the constable returned with several newspapers and handed themover to Ayscough, who immediately laid them on a desk and turned to theadvertisements, while the others crowded round him. 

"In every one of 'em, " exclaimed Ayscough, a moment later. "Word for word, in every morning newspaper in London! He must have sent that advertisementround to all the offices last night. And you'll notice, " he added, turningto the other official, "that this Mr. Levendale only lost this book aboutfour o'clock yesterday afternoon: therefore, it must have been taken toMultenius's shop between then and when we saw it there. "

"The old man may have found it in the 'bus, " suggested a third policeofficer who had come up. "Looks as if he had. "

"No, mister, " said Melky firmly. "Mr. Multenius wasn't out of the shop atall yesterday afternoon--I've made sure o' that fact from my cousin. Hedidn't find no book, gentlemen. It was brought there. "

Ayscough picked up one of the papers and turned to Melky and Lauriston. 

"Here!" he said. "We'll soon get some light on this. You two come with me--we'll step round to Mr. Levendale. "

Ten minutes later, the three found themselves at the door of one of thebiggest houses in Sussex Square; a moment more and they were being usheredwithin by a footman who looked at them with stolid curiosity. Lauristongained a general impression of great wealth and luxury, soft carpets, finepictures, all the belongings of a very rich man's house--then he and hiscompanions were ushered into a large room, half study, half library, wherein, at a massive, handsomely carved desk, littered with books andpapers, sat a middle-aged, keen-eyed man, who looked quietly up from hiswriting-pad at his visitors. 

"S'elp me!--one of ourselves!" whispered Melky Rubinstein at Lauriston'selbow. "Twig him!"

Lauriston was quick enough of comprehension and observation to know whatMelky meant. Mr. Spencer Levendale was certainly a Jew. His dark hair andbeard, his large dark eyes, the olive tint of his complexion, the lines ofhis nose and lips all betrayed his Semitic origin. He was evidently a manof position and of character; a quiet-mannered, self-possessed man ofbusiness, not given to wasting words. He glanced at the card whichAyscough had sent in, and turned to him with one word. 

"Well?"

Ayscough went straight to the point. 

"I called, Mr. Levendale, about that advertisement of yours which appearsin all this morning's newspapers, " he said. "I may as well tell you thatthat book of yours was found yesterday afternoon, under strangecircumstances. Mr. Daniel Multenius, the jeweller and pawnbroker, of PraedStreet--perhaps you know him, sir?"

"Not at all!" answered Levendale. "Never heard of him. "

"He was well known in this part of the town, " remarked Ayscough, quietly. "Well, sir--Mr. Multenius was found dead in his back-parlour yesterdayafternoon, about five-thirty, by this young man, Mr. Lauriston, whohappened to look in there, and I myself was on the spot a few minuteslater. Your book--for it's certainly the same--was lying on the table inthe parlour. Now, this other young man, Mr. Rubinstein, is a relation ofMr. Multenius's--from enquiries he's made, Mr. Levendale, it's a fact thatthe book was neither pawned nor sold at Multenius's, though it mustcertainly have been brought there between the time you lost it and thetime we found the old gentleman lying dead. Now, we--the police--want toknow how it came there. And so--I've come round to you. What can you tellme, sir?"

Levendale, who had listened to Ayscough with great--and, as it seemed toLauriston, with very watchful--attention, pushed aside a letter he waswriting, and looked from one to the other of his callers. 

"Where is my book?" he asked. 

"It's all right--all safe, mister, " said Melky. "It's locked up in acupboard, in the parlour where it was found, and the key's in my pocket. "

Levendale turned to the detective, glancing again at Ayscough's card. 

"All I can tell you, sergeant, " he said, "is--practically--what I've toldthe public in my advertisement. Of course, I can supplement it a bit. Thebook is a very valuable one--you see, " he went on, with a careless wave ofhis hand towards his book-shelves. "I'm something of a collector of rarebooks. I bought this particular book yesterday afternoon, at a well-knowndealer's in High Holborn. Soon after buying it, I got into a Cricklewoodomnibus, which I left at Chapel Street--at the corner of Praed Street, asa matter of fact: I wished to make a call at the Great Western Hotel. Itwas not till I made that call that I found I'd left the book in the 'bus--I was thinking hard about a business matter--I'd placed the book in acorner behind me--and, of course, I'd forgotten it, valuable though it is. And so, later on, after telephoning to the omnibus people, who'd heardnothing, I sent that advertisement round to all the morning papers. I'mvery glad to hear of it--and I shall be pleased to reward you, " heconcluded, turning to Melky. "Handsomely!--as I promised. "

But Melky made no sign of gratitude or pleasure. He was eyeing the richman before him in inquisitive fashion. 

"Mister!" he said suddenly. "I'd like to ask you a question. "

Levendale frowned a little. 

"Well?" he asked brusquely. "What is it?"

"This here, " replied Melky. "Was that there book wrapped up? Was it brown-papered, now, when you left it?"

It seemed to Lauriston that Levendale was somewhat taken aback. But if hewas, it was only for a second: his answer, then, came promptly enough. 

"No, it was not, " he said. "I carried it away from the shop where I boughtit--just as it was. Why do you ask?"

"It's a very fine-bound book, " remarked Melky. "I should ha' thought, now, that if it had been left in a 'bus, the conductor would ha' noticed it, quick. "

"So should I, " said Levendale. "Anything else?" he added, glancing atAyscough. 

"Well, no, Mr. Levendale, thank you, " replied the detective. "At least notjust now. But--the fact is, Mr. Multenius appears to have come to hisdeath by violence--and I want to know if whoever took your book into hisshop had anything to do with it. "

"Ah!--however, I can't tell you any more, " said Levendale. "Please seethat my book's taken great care of and returned to me, sergeant. Good-morning. "

Outside, Ayscough consulted his watch and looked at his companions. 

"Time we were going on to the inquest, " he remarked. "Come on--we'll stepround there together. You're both wanted, you know. "

"I'll join you at the Coroner's court, Mr. Ayscough, " said Melky. "I'vegot a few minutes' business--shan't be long. "

He hurried away by a short cut to Praed Street and turned into Mrs. Goldmark's establishment. 

Mrs. Goldmark herself was still ministering to Zillah, but the young womanwhom Melky had seen the night before was in charge. Melky drew her aside. 

"I say!" he said, with an air of great mystery. "A word with you, miss!--private, between you and me. Can you tell me what like was that fellowwhat you believed to ha' lost that there cuff stud you showed me in Mrs. Goldmark's desk?--you know?"

"Yes!" answered the young woman promptly. "Tall--dark--clean-shaved--verybrown--looked like one of those Colonials that you see sometimes--wore aslouch hat. "

"Not a word to nobody!" warned Melky, more mysteriously than ever. Andnodding his head with great solemnity, he left the eating-house, andhurried away to the Coroner's Court. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE INQUEST

Until he and Ayscough walked into this particular one, Lauriston had neverbeen in a Coroner's Court in his life. He knew very little about what wenton in such places. He was aware that the office of Coroner is of exceedingantiquity; that when any person meets his or her death under suspiciouscircumstances an enquiry into those circumstances is held by a Coroner, who has a jury of twelve men to assist him in his duties: but what Coronerand jury did, what the procedure of these courts was, he did not know. Itsurprised him, accordingly, to find himself in a hall which had all theoutward appearance of a court of justice--a raised seat, on a sort ofdais, for the Coroner; a box for the jury; a table for officials and legalgentlemen; a stand for witnesses, and accommodation for the generalpublic. Clearly, it was evident that when any one died as poor old DanielMultenius had died, the law took good care that everybody should knoweverything about it, and that whatever mystery there was should bethoroughly investigated. 

The general public, however, had not as yet come to be greatly interestedin the death of Daniel Multenius. Up to that moment the affair was knownto few people beyond the police, the relations of the dead man, and hisimmediate neighbours in Praed Street. Consequently, beyond the interestedfew, there was no great assemblage in the court that morning. A reporteror two, each with his note-book, lounged at the end of the table on thechance of getting some good copy out of whatever might turn up; some ofthe police officials whom Lauriston had already seen stood chatting withthe police surgeon and a sharp-eyed legal looking man, who was attended bya clerk; outside the open door, a group of men, evidently tradesmen andhouseholders of the district, hung about, looking as if they would be gladto get back to their businesses and occupations. Melky, coming in a fewminutes after Lauriston had arrived, and sitting down by him, nudged hiselbow as he pointed to these individuals. 

"There's the fellows what sits on the jury, mister!" whispered Melky. "Half-a-crown each they gets for the job--and a nice mess they makes ofit, sometimes. They've the power to send a man for trial for his life, hasthem chaps--all depends on their verdict. But lor' bless yer!--they takestheir tip from the Coroner--he's the fellow what you've got to watch. "

Then Melky looked around more narrowly, and suddenly espied the legal-looking man who was talking to the police. He dug his elbow intoLauriston. 

"Mister!" he whispered. "You be careful what you say when you get intothat there witness-box. See that man there, a-talking to the detectives?--him with the gold nippers on his blooming sharp nose? That's Mr. Parminter!--I knows him, well enough. He's a lawyer chap, what the policegets when there's a case o' this sort, to ask questions of the witnesses, d'ye see? Watch him, Mr. Lauriston, if he starts a-questioning you!--he'sthe sort that can get a tale out of a dead cod-fish--s'elp me, he is! He'sa terror, he is!--the Coroner ain't in it with him--he's a good sort, theCoroner, but Parminter--Lord love us! ain't I heard him turn witnessesinside out--not half! And here is the Coroner. "

Lauriston almost forgot that he was an important witness, and was temptedto consider himself nothing but a spectator as he sat and witnessed theformal opening of the Court, the swearing-in of the twelve jurymen, alllooking intensely bored, and the preliminaries which prefaced the actualsetting-to-work of the morning's business. But at last, after some openingremarks from the Coroner, who said that the late Mr. Daniel Multenius wasa well-known and much respected tradesman of the neighbourhood, that theywere all sorry to hear of his sudden death, and that there werecircumstances about it which necessitated a careful investigation, thebusiness began--and Lauriston, who, for professional purposes, had heard agood many legal cases, saw, almost at once, that the police, through theredoubtable Mr. Parminter, now seated with his clerk at the table, hadcarefully arranged the presenting of evidence on a plan and system oftheir own, all of which, so it became apparent to him, was intended toeither incriminate himself, or throw considerable suspicion upon him. Hisinterest began to assume a personal complexion. 

The story of the circumstances of Daniel Multenius's death, as unfolded inthe witness-box into which one person went after another, appeared to bethe fairly plain one--looked at from one point of view: there was acertain fascination in its unfolding. It began with Melky, who was firstcalled--to identify the deceased, to answer a few general questions abouthim, and to state that when he last saw him, a few hours before his death, he was in his usual good health: as good, at any rate, as a man of hisyears--seventy-five--who was certainly growing feeble, could expect to bein. Nothing much was asked of Melky, and nothing beyond bare factsvolunteered by him: the astute Mr. Parminter left him alone. A moreimportant witness was the police-surgeon, who testified that the deceasedhad been dead twenty minutes when he was called to him, that he hadwithout doubt been violently assaulted, having been savagely seized by thethroat and by the left arm, on both of which significant marks wereplainly visible, and that the cause of death was shock followingimmediately on this undoubted violence. It was evident, said this witness, that the old man was feeble, and that he suffered from a weak heart: suchan attack as that which he had described would be sufficient to causedeath, almost instantly. 

"So it is a case of murder!" muttered Melky, who had gone back to sit byLauriston. "That's what the police is leading up to. Be careful, mister!"

But there were three witnesses to call before Lauriston was called upon. It was becoming a mystery to him that his evidence was kept back so long--he had been the first person to find the old man's dead body, and itseemed, to his thinking, that he ought to have been called at a very earlystage of the proceedings. He was about to whisper his convictions on thispoint to Melky, when a door was opened and Zillah was escorted in byAyscough, and led to the witness-box. 

Zillah had already assumed the garments of mourning for her grandfather. She was obviously distressed at being called to give evidence, and theCoroner made her task as brief as possible. It was--at that stage--littlethat he wanted to know. And Zillah told little. She had gone out to dosome shopping, at half-past-four on the previous afternoon. She left hergrandfather alone. He was then quite well. He was in the front shop, doingnothing in particular. She was away about an hour, when she returned tofind Detective-Sergeant Ayscough, whom she knew, and Mr. Lauriston, whomshe also knew, in the shop, and her grandfather dead in the parlourbehind. At this stage of her evidence, the Coroner remarked that he didnot wish to ask Zillah any further questions just then, but he asked herto remain in court. Mrs. Goldmark had followed her, and she and Zillah satdown near Melky and Lauriston--and Lauriston half believed that his ownturn would now come. 

But Ayscough was next called--to give a brief, bald, matter-of-factstatement of what he knew. He had gone to see Mr. Multenius on a businessaffair--he was making enquiries about a stolen article which was believedto have been pledged in the Edgware Road district. He told how Lauristonran into him as he entered the shop; what Lauriston said to him; what hehimself saw and observed; what happened afterwards. It was a plain andpractical account, with no indication of surprise, bias, or theory--andnobody asked the detective any questions arising out of it. 

"Ain't nobody but you to call, now, mister, " whispered Melky. "Mind yourp's and q's about them blooming rings--and watch that Parminter!"

But Melky was mistaken--the official eye did not turn upon Lauriston but, upon the public benches of the court, as if it were seeking some personthere. 

"There is a witness who has volunteered a statement to the police, " saidthe Coroner. "I understand it is highly important. We had better hear himat this point. Benjamin Hollinshaw!"

Melky uttered a curious groan, and glanced at Lauriston. 

"Fellow what has a shop right opposite!" he whispered. "S'elp me!--what'she got to say about it?"

Benjamin Hollinshaw came forward. He was a rather young, rather self-confident, self-important sort of person, who strode up to the witness-boxas if he had been doing things of importance and moment all his life, andwas taking it quite as a matter of course that he should do another. Hetook the oath and faced the court with something of an air, as much as toimply that upon what he was about to say more depended than any one couldconceive. Invited to tell what he knew, he told his story, obviouslyenjoying the telling of it. He was a tradesman in Praed Street: a dealerin second-hand clothing, to be exact; been there many years, in successionto his father. He remembered yesterday afternoon, of course. About half-past-five o'clock he was standing at the door of his shop. It was directlyfacing Daniel Multenius's shop door. The darkness had already come on, andthere was also a bit of a fog in the street: not much, but hazy, as itwere. Daniel Multenius's window was lighted, but the light was confined toa couple of gas-jets. There was a light in the projecting sign over theside entrance to the pawnshop, down the passage. For the first few minuteswhile he stood at his door, looking across to Multenius's, he did not seeany one enter or leave that establishment. But he then saw a young mancome along, from the Edgware Road direction, whose conduct rather struckhim. The young man, after sauntering past Multenius's shop, paused, turned, and proceeded to peer in through the top panel of the front door. He looked in once or twice in that way. Then he went to the far end of thewindow and looked inside in the same prying fashion, as if he wanted tofind out who was within. He went to various parts of the window, as ifendeavouring to look inside. Finally, he stepped down the side-passage andentered the door which led to the compartments into which people turnedwho took things to pledge. He, Hollinshaw, remained at his shop door forsome minutes after that--in fact, until the last witness came along. Hesaw Ayscough enter Multenius's front door and immediately pause--then thedoor was shut, and he himself went back into his own shop, his wife justthen calling him to tea. 

"You saw the young man you speak of quite clearly?" asked the Coroner. 

"As clearly as I see you, sir, " replied the witness. 

"Do you see him here?"

Hollinshaw turned instantly and pointed to Lauriston. 

"That's the young man, sir, " he answered, with confidence. 

Amidst a general craning of necks, Melky whispered to Lauriston. 

"You'd ought to ha' had a lawyer, mister!" he said. "S'elp me, I'm ablooming fool for not thinking of it! Be careful--the Coroner's a-lookingat you!"

As a matter of fact, every person in the court was staring at Lauriston, and presently the Coroner addressed him. 

"Do you wish to ask this witness any questions?" he enquired. 

Lauriston rose to his feet. 

"No!" he replied. "What he says is quite correct. That is, as regardsmyself. "

The Coroner hesitated a moment; then he motioned to Hollinshaw to leavethe box, and once more turned to Lauriston. 

"We will have your evidence now, " he said. "And--let me warn you thatthere is no obligation on you to say anything which would seem toincriminate you. "

CHAPTER NINE

WHOSE WERE THOSE RINGS?

Paying no attention to another attempted murmur of advice from Melky, whoseemed to be on pins and needles, Lauriston at once jumped to his feet andstrode to the witness-box. The women in the public seats glanced at himwith admiring interest--such a fine-looking young fellow, whispered onesentimental lady to another, to have set about a poor old gentleman likeMr. Multenius! And everybody else, from the Coroner to the newspaperreporter--who was beginning to think he would get some good copy, afterall, that morning--regarded him with attention. Here, at any rate, was theone witness who had actually found the pawnbroker's dead body. 

Lauriston, his colour heightened a little under all this attention, answered the preliminary questions readily enough. His name was AndrewCarruthers Lauriston. His age--nearly twenty-two. He was a native ofPeebles, in Scotland--the only son of the late Andrew Lauriston. Hisfather was a minister of the Free Church. His mother was dead, too. Hehimself had come to London about two years ago--just after his mother'sdeath. For the past few weeks he had lodged with Mrs. Flitwick, in StarStreet--that was his present address. He was a writer of fiction--storiesand novels. He had heard all the evidence already given, including that ofthe last witness, Hollinshaw. All that Hollinshaw had said was quite true. It was quite true that he had gone to Multenius's pawnshop about five-thirty of the previous afternoon, on his own business. He had looked inthrough both doors and window before entering the side-door: he wanted toknow who was in the shop--whether it was Mr. Multenius, or his grand-daughter. He wanted to know that for a simple reason--he had never donebusiness with Mr. Multenius, never even seen him that he remembered, buthe had had one transaction with Miss Wildrose, and he wished, if possible, to do his business with her. As a matter of fact he saw nobody inside theshop when he looked in through the front door and the window--so he wentround to the side-entrance. 

All this had come in answer to questions put by the Coroner--who nowpaused and looked at Lauriston not unkindly. 

"I daresay you are already aware that there is, or may be, some amount ofsuspicious circumstances attaching to your visit to this place yesterdayafternoon, " he said. "Do you care to tell the court--in your own way--precisely what took place, what you discovered, after you entered thepawnshop?"

"That's exactly what I wish to do, " answered Lauriston, readily. "I'vealready told it, more than once, to the police and Mr. Multenius'srelatives--I'll tell it again, as plainly and briefly as I can. I wentinto one of the compartments just within the side-door of the place. I sawno one, and heard no one. I rapped on the counter--nobody came. So Ilooked round the partition into the front shop. There was no one there. Then I looked round the other partition into the back parlour, the door ofwhich was wide open. I at once saw an old man whom I took to be Mr. Multenius. He was lying on the floor--his feet were towards the open door, and his head on the hearth-rug, near the fender. I immediately jumped overthe counter, and went into the parlour. I saw at once that he was dead--and almost immediately I hurried to the front door, to summon assistance. At the door I ran into Mr. Ayscough, who was entering as I opened thedoor. I at once told him of what I had found. That is the plain truth asto all I know of the matter. "

"You heard nothing of any person in or about the shop when you entered?"asked the Coroner. 

"Nothing!" replied Lauriston. "It was all perfectly quiet. "

"What had you gone there to do?"

"To borrow some money--on two rings. "

"Your own property?"

"My own property!"

"Had you been there before, on any errand of that sort?"

"Only once. "

"When was that?"

"Last week, " answered Lauriston. "I pawned my watch there. "

"You have, in fact, been short of money?"

"Yes. But only temporarily--I was expecting money. "

"I hope it has since arrived, " said the Coroner. 

"Mr. Ayscough was with me when it did arrive, " replied Lauriston, glancingat the detective. "We found it--two letters--at my lodgings when he walkedround there with me after what I have just told you of. "

"You had done your business on that previous occasion with the grand-daughter?" asked the Coroner. "You had not seen the old man, then?"

"I never to my knowledge saw Mr. Multenius till I found him lying dead inhis own parlour, " answered Lauriston. 

The Coroner turned from the witness, and glanced towards the table atwhich Mr. Parminter and the police officials sat. And Mr. Parminter slowlyrose and looked at Lauriston, and put his first question--in a quiet, almost suave voice, as if he and the witness were going to have a pleasantand friendly little talk together. 

"So your ambition is to be a writer of fiction?" he asked. 

"I am a writer of fiction!" replied Lauriston. 

Mr. Parminter pulled out a snuff-box and helped himself to a pinch. 

"Have you published much?" he enquired, drily. 

"Two or three stories--short stories. "

"Did they bring in much money?"

"Five pounds each. "

"Have you done anything else for a living but that since you came toLondon two years ago?"

"No, I haven't!"

"How much have you earned by your pen since you came, now?"

"About thirty pounds. "

"Thirty pounds in two years. What have you lived on, then?"

"I had money of my own, " replied Lauriston. "I had two hundred pounds whenI left home. "

"And that gave out--when?" demanded Mr. Parminter. 

"Last week. "

"And so--you took your watch to the pawnshop. And--yesterday--yourexpected money not having arrived, you were obliged to visit the pawnshopagain? Taking with you, you said just now, two rings--your own property. Am I correct?"

"Quite correct--two rings--my own property. "

Mr. Parminter turned and spoke to a police official, who, lifting aside asheet of brown paper which lay before him, revealed the tray of ringswhich Lauriston and Ayscough had found on the table in Multenius'sparlour. At the same time, Mr. Parminter, lifting his papers, revealedLauriston's rings. He picked them up, laid them on the palm of his hand, and held them towards the witness. 

"Are these the rings you took to the pawnshop?" he asked. 

"Yes!" replied Lauriston. "They were my mother's. "

Mr. Parminter indicated the tray. 

"Did you see this tray lying in the parlour in which you found the deadman?" he enquired. 

"I did. "

"Did it strike you that your own rings were remarkably like the rings inthis tray?"

"No, it did not, " answered Lauriston. "I know nothing about rings. "

Mr. Parminter quietly passed the tray of rings to the Coroner, withLauriston's rings lying on a sheet of paper. 

"Perhaps you will examine these things and direct the attention of thejurymen to them?" he said, and turned to the witness-box again. "I want toask you a very particular question, " he continued. "You had betterconsider it well before answering it--it is more important--to you--thanmay appear at first hearing. Can you bring any satisfactory proof thatthose two rings which you claim to be yours, really are yours?"

There followed on that a dead silence in court. People had been coming insince the proceedings had opened, and the place was now packed to thedoor. Every eye was turned on Lauriston as he stood in the witness-box, evidently thinking deeply. And in two pairs of eyes there was deepanxiety: Melky was nervous and fidgety; Zillah was palpably greatlyconcerned. 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 thatthey are!"

A suppressed murmur ran round the court--in the middle of it, the Coronerhanded the rings to a police official and motioned him to show them to thejurymen. 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, oldfriends, who have seen those two rings in my mother's possession. But Idon'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 remembershowing the rings to anybody. "

"You kept them in your trunk until you took them out to raise money onthem?"

"Yes--that's so, " admitted Lauriston. 

"How much money had you--in the world--when you went to the pawnshopyesterday 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 inthe public seats, who, being well acquainted with the pawnshopsthemselves, and with the necessities which drove them there wereexperiencing 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, inmy letters, less than an hour afterwards. Ayscough knows that!"

Mr. Parminter paid no attention to this remark. He had been whispering tothe police inspector, and now he turned to the Coroner. 

"I should like this witness to stand down for a few minutes, sir, " hesaid. "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 searchingquestions with an anxiety which was obvious to those who sat near her. Thesigns of that anxiety were redoubled as she walked slowly to the box, andthe glance she threw at the Coroner was almost appealing. But the Coronerwas 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 kindlybenevolent gentleman whose sole object was to administer condolence andcomfort. Few people in court, however, failed to see the meaning of thequestions which he began to put in the suavest and softest of tones. 

"I believe you assisted your late grandfather in his business?" suggestedMr. 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 someyears 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 beforeyou 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 thatyou gradually got a good deal of knowledge about the articles with whichyour grandfather had to deal? To be sure--thank you. In fact, you areentitled to regard yourself as something of an expert in precious stonesand 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 trayof rings on the ledge of the witness-box. 

"Oblige me by looking at that tray and the contents, " he said. "Yourecognize it, of course? Just so. Now, do you know where that tray waswhen 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 thefront 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. Theywere always left like that? Just so. And you don't know how many therewere--nor how many there should be there, now? As a matter of fact, thereare twenty-seven rings there--you can't say that is the right number?"

"No, " answered Zillah, "and my grandfather couldn't have said, either. Aring might be dropped into that tray--or a ring taken out. They are allold 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 thevalue of the least valuable ring there, and what is that of the mostvaluable?"

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 worthmore. "

"And--they are all old?"

"They are all of old-fashioned workmanship, " said Zillah. "Made a goodmany years ago, all of them. The diamonds, or pearls, are all right, ofcourse. "

Mr. Parminter handed over the half-sheet of paper on which Lauriston'srings had been exhibited to the Coroner and the jurymen. 

"Look at those rings, if you please, " he said quietly. "Are they of thesame 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 atlast. 

"In other words, these two rings are similar in style and value to thebest 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 asharp 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 weretaken 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 andstyle--all very much of a muchness?"

"Yes, " admitted Zillah. 

"And you can't--you are on your oath remember!--you can't definitely saythat those two rings were not picked up from that tray, amongst theothers?"

"No, " replied Zillah. "But I can't say that they were! And--I don'tbelieve they were. I don't believe they were our rings!"

Mr. Parminter smiled quietly and again swept the interested jurymen withhis 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 wasquick 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 answeredat 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 himsome advice?"

"Yes, I did! I advised him, as long as he'd anything on which he couldraise 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, didLauriston, on Sunday, or when you saw him before, ever mention to you thathe possessed two rings of some value?"

"No, " replied Zillah. 

Mr. Parminter paused, hesitated, suddenly bowed to the Coroner, anddropping back into his seat, pulled out his snuff-box. And the Coroner, motioning Zillah to leave the witness-box, interrupted Mr. Parminter inthe midst of a pinch of snuff. 

"I think it will be best to adjourn at this stage, " he said. "It isobvious that we can't finish this today. " He turned to the jurymen. "Ipropose to adjourn this enquiry for a week, gentlemen, " he went on. "Inthe meantime--"

His attention was suddenly arrested by Melky Rubinstein, who, after muchuneasiness and fidgeting, rose from his seat and made his way to the footof the table, manifestly desiring to speak. 

"What is it?" asked the Coroner. "Who are you? Oh!--the witness whoidentified the body. Yes?"

"Mr. Coroner!" said Melky, in his most solemn tones. "This here inquestain't being conducted right, sir! I don't mean by you--but these heregentlemen, the police, and Mr. Parminter there, is going off on a wrongscent. I know what they're after, and they're wrong! They're suppressingevidence, 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 thatclue'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 itsowner?"

"What is this?" demanded the Coroner. "If there is anything--"

"Anything, sir!" exclaimed Melky. "There's just this--between the timethat my cousin there, Miss Zillah Wildrose left the old man alive, and thetime when Mr. Lauriston found him dead, somebody came into the shop asleft a valuable book behind him on the parlour table, which book, according to all the advertisements in the morning papers, is the propertyof Mr. Spencer Levendale, the Member of Parliament, as lives in SussexSquare. Why ain't that matter brought up? Why ain't Mr. Levendale broughthere? I ask you, Mr. Coroner, to have it seen into! There's more behindit--"

The Coroner held up a hand and beckoned the police inspector and Mr. Parminter to approach his desk; a moment later, Ayscough was summoned. AndLauriston, watching the result of this conference, was quickly aware thatthe Coroner was not particularly pleased; he suddenly turned on theinspector 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?" hedemanded. "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 beenmentioned, at once. I shall adjourn for a week, from today, and you willproduce the book and bring Mr. Spencer Levendale here as a witness. Thisday week, gentlemen!"

Melky Rubinstein turned, whispered a hurried word to Zillah and Mrs. Goldmark, and then, seizing Lauriston by the elbow, drew him quickly awayfrom 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 heedged himself close to his companion's side, at the same time throwing acautious glance over his own shoulder. 

"There's one o' them blooming detectives after us!" said Melky. "Butthat'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 haveto 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'sfor your own good. "

"I don't know that I could do better, " responded Lauriston, after amoment'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 somegrub. I'll tell you what to do while we're eating. I've been thinkingthings over while that there Parminter was badgering poor Zillah, ands'elp me, there only is one thing for you to do, and you'd best to do itsharp! But come on to Praed Street--don't matter if this here chap behinddoes shadow you--I can get the better of him as easy as I could sell thiswatch! It 'ud take all the detectives in London to beat me, if I put mymind to it. "

They were at Mrs. Goldmark's eating-house in five minutes: Melky, who knewall the ins and outs of that establishment, conducted Lauriston into aninner room, and to a corner wherein there was comparative privacy, andsummoned a waitress. Not until he and his companion were half way throughtheir meal did he refer to the business which was in his thoughts: then heleaned 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, exceptthat 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 straightestand easiest line. Their line was clear enough, just now--Parminter give itaway! They've a theory--they always have a theory--and when once policegets a theory, nothing can drive it out o' their heads--their officialheads, anyway. What they're saying, and what they'll try to establish, isthis here. That you were hard up, down to less than your last penny. Youwent to Mr. Multenius's--you peeked and peered through the shop window andsaw him alone, or, perhaps, saw the place empty. You went in--you grabbeda couple o' rings--he interrupted you--you scragged him! That's theirline--and Zillah can't swear that those rings which you claim to be yoursaren't her grandfather's, and up to now you can't prove that they're yoursand 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 orshe--never mind which--knows them rings to be your property beyond ashadow of doubt! Bring that friend back--bring him if he has to come in aninvalid carriage!"

Lauriston was so much struck by Melky's argument and advice that it neededno more explanations to convince him of its wisdom. 

"But--how could I get away'" he asked. "There'll be that detective chaphanging 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. Theprobability is that if they saw me going to a railway station they'darrest me. "

"My own opinion, mister, after what's taken place this morning, is that ifyou 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! Theremust be somebody in the old spot as can swear that them two rings o' yoursis family property, and you must find 'em and bring 'em, if you value yourneck. 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 lastnight. "

"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 MotherFlitwick'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 thecorner? 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'llfind yourself in a narrow passage. Go straight down the passage, andyou'll come out in Market Street. Go straight down Southwick Street--youknow it--to Oxford and Cambridge Terrace, and you'll see a cab-rank rightin front of you. Get into a taxi, and tell the fellow to drive you toPiccadilly Circus. Leave him there--take a turn round so's he won't seewhat 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. 15for the North easy--and after you're once in it, you're all right. Get toPeebles!--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 inthe corner, and vanished. And Melky, left alone, pulled out his cigarettecase, and began to smoke, calmly and quietly. When the waitress came back, he whispered a word or two to her; the waitress nodded with fullcomprehension--for everybody knew Melky at Goldmark's, and if thewaitresses wanted a little jewellery now and then, he let them have it atcost 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 deskin the outer shop. He sipped a cup of coffee; he smoked severalcigarettes; it was quite a long time before he emerged into Praed Street, buttoning his overcoat. And without appearing to see anything, he at oncesaw the man who had followed Lauriston and himself from the Coroner'sCourt. Being almost preternaturally observant, he also saw the man startwith surprise--but Melky showed, and felt, no surprise, when the watchercame 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 wentout, three-quarters of an hour ago. Gone home, I should say. "

The man turned away, evidently puzzled, but just as evidently takingMelky's word. He went off in the direction of Star Street, while Melkystrolled along to the pawnbroker's shop. It was necessary that he shouldtell his cousin of what he had done. 

Mrs. Goldmark was still with Zillah--Melky unfolded his story to the twoof them. Zillah heard it with unfeigned relief; Mrs. Goldmark, who, beinga young and pretty widow, was inclined to sentiment, regarded Melky withadmiration. 

"My!--if you ain't the cute one, Mr. Rubinstein!" she exclaimed, clappingher plump hands. "As for me, now, I wouldn't have thought of that in ahundred 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 thempolice fellows put a hand on young Lauriston, not me! I've my own ideasabout this here business--wait till I put my hand on somebody, see? Don'tit all come out clear to you?--if I find the right man, then there ain'tno 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 youreyes in your head for nothing, Mr. Rubinstein!"

Zillah, who had listened abstractedly to these compliments suddenly turnedon her cousin. 

"What are you going to do then, Melky?" she demanded. "What's all thisbusiness about that book? And what steps are you thinking of taking?"

But Melky rose and, shaking his head, buttoned up his overcoat as if hewere buttoning in a multitude of profound secrets. 

"What you got to do, just now, Zillah--and Mrs. Goldmark too, " heanswered, "is to keep quiet tongues about what I done with youngLauriston. There ain't to be a word said! If any o' them police come roundhere, asking about him, you don't know nothing--see? You ain't seen himsince he walked out o' that court with me--see? Which, of course--youain'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. "Whatdo I always say of you, Mrs. Goldmark? Don't I always say you're thesmartest business woman in all Paddington? Ain't that having a mind? Oh, Ithink you've the beautifullest mind, Mrs. Goldmark!"

With this compliment Melky left Mrs. Goldmark and Zillah, and went away tohis lodgings. He was aware of a taxi-cab drawn up at Mrs. Flitwick's dooras he went up the street; inside Mrs. Flitwick's shabby hall he found thatgood woman talking to a stranger--a well-dressed young gentleman, who wasobviously asking questions. Mrs. Flitwick turned to Melky with an air ofrelief. 

"Perhaps you can tell this gentleman where Mr. Lauriston is, Mr. Rubinstein?" she said. "I ain't seen him since he went out first thingthis morning. "

Melky looked the stranger over--narrowly. Then he silently beckoned himoutside the house, and walked him out of earshot. 

"You ain't the friend from Scotland?" asked Melky. "Him what sent thebank-note, last night?"

"Yes!" assented the stranger. "I see you're aware of that. My name isPurdie--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 knowwho 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 whatthat lady was accustomed to describe as the front drawing-room floor--acouple of rooms opening one into the other. Into one of these, furnishedas a sitting-room, he now led Lauriston's friend, hospitably invited himto a seat, and took a quiet look at him. He at once sized up Mr. JohnPurdie for what he was--a well-to-do, well-dressed, active-brained youngbusiness man, probably accustomed to controlling and dealing withimportant 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 atone and manner of implicit confidence. "I've heard of you. Me and Mr. Lauriston's close friends. My name's Mr. Rubinstein--Mr. MelchiorRubinstein, commonly called Melky. I know all about you--you're the friendthat 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 fortwo of his lit'ry works--stories, mister. Mister!--I wish he'd got yourmoney 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!"

"I haven't the remotest notion of what you're talking about, you know, "said Purdie good-naturedly. "You evidently know more than I do. I knewAndie Lauriston well enough up to the time he left Peebles, but I've neverseen or heard of him since until he wrote to me the other week. What's itall about, and why has he gone back to Peebles? I told him I was coming uphere any day now--and here I am, and he's gone!"

Melky edged his chair still nearer to his visitor, and with a cautiousglance at the door, lowered his voice. 

"I'm a-going to tell you all about it, mister, " he said. "I know youScotch gentlemen have got rare headpieces on you, and you'll pick it upsharp enough. Now you listen to me, Mr. Purdie, same as if I was one ofthem barrister chaps stating a case, and you'll get at it in no time. "

John Purdie, who had already recognized his host as a character, asinteresting as he was amusing, listened attentively while Melky told thestory of Lauriston's doings and adventure from the moment of his settingout to pawn his watch at Multenius's pledge-office to that in which, onMelky's suggestion, he had made a secret and hurried departure forPeebles. Melky forgot no detail; he did full justice to every importantpoint, and laid particular stress on the proceedings before the Coroner. And in the end he appealed confidently to his listener. 

"And now I put it up to you, mister--straight!" concluded Melky. "Could Iha' done better for him than to give him the advice I did? Wasn't it bestfor him to go where he could get some evidence on his own behalf, than torun the risk of being arrested, and put where he couldn't do nothing forhimself? What d'you say, now, Mr. Purdie?"

"Yes, " agreed Purdie, after a moment's further thought. "I think you didwell. He'll no doubt be able to find some old friends in Peebles who cansurely remember that his mother did possess those two rings. But you mustbear this in mind--the police, you say, have shadowed him since yesterdayafternoon. Well, when they find he's flown, they'll take that as a strongpresumptive evidence of guilt. They'll say he's flying from justice!"

"Don't matter, mister, if Lauriston comes back with proof of hisinnocence, " replied Melky. 

"Yes, but they'll not wait for that, " said Purdie. "They'll set the hue-and-cry on to him--at once. He's not the sort to be easily mistaken oroverlooked--unless he's changed a lot this late year or two--he was alwaysa good-looking lad. "

"Is so now, mister, " remarked Melky, "is so now!"

"Very well, " continued Purdie. "Then I want to make a suggestion to you. It seems to me that the wisest course is for you and me to go straight tothe police authorities, and tell them frankly that Lauriston has gone toget evidence that those rings are really his property, and that he'llreturn in a day or two with that evidence. That will probably satisfythem--I think I can add a bit more that will help further. We don't wantit to be thought that the lad's run away rather than face a possiblecharge of murder, you know!"

"I see your point, mister, I see your point!" agreed Melky. "I'm withyou!--I ain't no objection to that. Of course, there ain't no need to tellthe police precisely where he has gone--what?"

"Not a bit!" said Purdie. "But I'll make myself responsible to them forhis re-appearance. Now--did you and he arrange anything aboutcommunicating with each other?"

"Yes, " replied Melky. "If anything turns up this next day or two I'm towire to him at the post-office, Peebles. If he finds what he wants, he'llwire to me, here, at once. "

"Good!" said Purdie. "Now, here's another matter. You've mentioned Mr. Spencer Levendale and this book which was so strangely left at the pledge-office. I happen to know Mr. Levendale--pretty well. "

"You do, mister!" exclaimed Melky. "Small world, ain't it, now?"

"I met Mr. Spencer Levendale last September--two months ago, " continuedPurdie. "He was staying at an hotel in the Highlands, with his childrenand their governess: I was at the same hotel, for a month--he and I usedto go fishing together. We got pretty friendly, and he asked me to call onhim next time I was in town. Here I am--and when we've been to the police, I'm going to Sussex Square--to tell him I'm a friend of Lauriston's, thatLauriston is in some danger over this business, and to ask him if he cantell me more about--that book!"

Melky jumped up and wrung his visitor's hand. 

"Mister!--you're one o' the right sort, " he said fervently. "That therebook has something to do with it! My idea is that the man what carriedthat book into the shop is the man what scragged my poor old relative--fact, mister! Levendale, he wouldn't tell us anything much thismorning--maybe he'll tell you more. Stand by Lauriston, mister!--we'llpull him through. "

"You seem very well disposed towards him, " remarked Purdie. "He'sevidently taken your fancy. "

"And my cousin Zillah's, " answered Melky, with a confidential grin. "Zillah--loveliest girl in all Paddington, mister--she's clear gone on theyoung fellow! And--a word in your ear, mister!--Zillah's been educatedlike a lady, and now that the old man's gone, Zillah'll have--ah! afortune that 'ud make a nigger turn white! And no error about it! See itthrough, mister!"

"I'll see it through, " said Purdie. "Now, then--these police. Look here--is there a good hotel in this neighbourhood?--I've all my traps in thattaxi-cab downstairs--I drove straight here from the station, because Iwanted to see Andie Lauriston at once. "

"Money's no object to you, I reckon, mister?" asked Melky, with a shrewdglance at the young Scotsman's evident signs of prosperity. 

"Not in reason, " answered Purdie. 

"Then there's the Great Western Hotel, at the end o' Praed Street, " saidMelky. "That'll suit a young gentleman like you, mister, down to theground. And you'll be right on the spot!"

"Come with me, then, " said Purdie. "And then to the police. "

Half-an-hour's private conversation with the police authorities enabledPurdie to put some different ideas into the official heads. They began tolook at matters in a new light. Here was a wealthy young Scottishmanufacturer, a person of standing and position, who was able to vouch forAndrew Lauriston in more ways than one, who had known him from boyhood, had full faith in him and in his word, and was certain that all thatLauriston had said about the rings and about his finding of DanielMultenius would be found to be absolutely true. They willingly agreed tomove no further in the matter until Lauriston's return--and Purdienoticed, not without a smile, that they pointedly refrained from askingwhere he had gone to. He came out from that interview with Ayscough inattendance upon him--and Melky, waiting without, saw that things had goneall right. 

"You might let me have your London address, sir, " said Ayscough. "I mightwant to let you know something. "

"Great Western Hotel, " answered Purdie. "I shall stay there untilLauriston's return, and until this matter's entirely cleared up, as far ashe's concerned. Come there, if you want me. All right, " he continued, ashe and Melky walked away from the police-station. "They took my word forit!--they'll do nothing until Lauriston comes back. Now then, you knowthis neighbourhood, and I don't--show me the way to Sussex Square--I'mgoing to call on Mr. Levendale at once. "

John Purdie had a double object in calling on Mr. Spencer Levendale. Hehad mentioned to Melky that when he met Levendale in the Highlands, Levendale, who was a widower, had his children and their governess withhim. But he had not mentioned that he, Purdie, had fallen in love with thegoverness, and that one of his objects in coming to London just then wasto renew his acquaintance with her. It was chiefly of the governess thathe was thinking as he stood on the steps of the big house in SussexSquare--perhaps, in a few minutes, he would see her again. 

But Purdie was doomed to see neither Mr. Spencer Levendale nor the prettygoverness that day. Mr. Levendale, said the butler, was on business in thecity and was to dine out that evening: Miss Bennett had taken the twochildren to see a relative of theirs at Hounslow, and would not returnuntil late. So Purdie, having pencilled his London address on them, leftcards for Mr. Levendale and Miss Bennett, and, going back to his hotel, settled himself in his quarters to await developments. He spent theevening in reading the accounts of the inquest on Daniel Multenius--inmore than one of the newspapers they were full and circumstantial, and itneeded little of his shrewd perception to convince him that his oldschoolmate stood in considerable danger if he failed to establish hisownership of the rings. 

He had finished breakfast next morning and was thinking of strolling roundto Melky Rubinstein's lodgings, to hear if any news had come fromLauriston, when a waiter brought him Ayscough's card, saying that itspresenter was waiting for him in the smoking-room. Purdie went there atonce: the detective, who looked unusually grave and thoughtful, drew himaside into a quiet part of the room. 

"There's a strange affair occurred during the night, Mr. Purdie, " saidAyscough, when they were alone. "And it's my opinion it's connected withthis Multenius affair. "

"What is it?" asked Purdie. 

"This, " replied Ayscough. "A Praed Street tradesman--in a small way--waspicked up, dying, in a quiet street off Maida Vale, at twelve o'clock lastnight, and he died soon afterwards. And--he'd been poisoned!--but how, thedoctors can't yet tell. "

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE CALL FOR HELP

Purdie, whose temperament inclined him to slowness and deliberation inface of any grave crisis, motioned the detective to take a seat in thequiet corner of the smoking-room, into which they had retreated, and satdown close by him. 

"Now, to begin with, " he said, "why do you think this affair is connectedwith the affair of the old pawn-broker? There must be some link. "

"There is a link, sir, " answered Ayscough. "The man was old DanielMultenius's next door neighbour: name of Parslett--James Parslett, fruitand vegetable dealer. Smallish way of business, but well known enough inthat quarter. Now, I'll explain something to you. I'm no hand at drawing, "continued the detective, "but I think I can do a bit of a rough sketch onthis scrap of paper which will make clear to you the lie of the land. These two lines represent Praed Street. Here, where I make this cross, isDaniel Multenius's pawnshop. The front part of it--the jeweller's shop--looks out on Praed Street. At the side is a narrow passage or entry: fromthat you get access to the pledge-office. Now then, Multenius's premisesrun down one side of this passage: Parslett's run down the other. Parslett's house has a side-door into it, exactly opposite the door intoMultenius's pledge office. Is that clear, Mr. Purdie?"

"Quite!" answered Purdie. "I understand it exactly. "

"Then my theory is, that Parslett saw the real murderer of DanielMultenius come out of Multenius's side-door, while he, Parslett, wasstanding at his own; that he recognized him, that he tried to blackmailhim yesterday, and that the man contrived to poison him, in such a fashionthat Parslett died shortly after leaving him, " said Ayscough, confidently. "It's but a theory--but I'll lay anything I'm not far out in it!"

"What reason have you for thinking that Parslett blackmailed themurderer?" asked Purdie. 

"This!" answered the detective, with something of triumph in his tone. "I've been making some enquiries already this morning, early as it is. When Parslett was picked up and carried to the hospital--this St. Mary'sHospital, close by here--he was found to have fifty pounds in gold in hispocket. Now, according to Parslett's widow, whom I've seen this morning, Parslett was considerably hard up yesterday. Trade hasn't been very goodwith him of late, and she naturally knows his circumstances. He went outof the house last night about nine o'clock, saying he was going to have astroll round, and the widow says she's certain he'd no fifty pounds on himwhen he left her--it would be a wonder, she says, if he'd as much as fiftyshillings! Now then, Mr. Purdie, where did a man like that pick up fiftysovereigns between the time he went out, and the time he was picked up, dying?"

"He might have borrowed it from some friend, " suggested Purdie. 

"I thought of that, sir, " said Ayscough. "It seems the natural thing tothink of. But Mrs. Parslett says they haven't a friend from whom he couldhave borrowed such an amount--not one! No, sir!--my belief is thatParslett saw some man enter and leave Multenius's shop; that he knew theman; that he went and plumped him with the affair, and that the man gavehim that gold to get rid of him at the moment--and contrived to poisonhim, too!"

Purdie considered the proposition for awhile in silence. 

"Well, " he remarked at last, "if that's so, it seems to establish twofacts--first, that the murderer is some man who lives in thisneighbourhood, and second, that he's an expert in poisons. "

"Right, sir!" agreed Ayscough. "Quite right. And it would, of course, establish another--the innocence of your friend, Lauriston. "

Purdie smiled. 

"I never had any doubt of that, " he said. 

"Between ourselves, neither had I, " remarked Ayscough heartily. "I toldour people that I, personally, was convinced of the young fellow'scomplete innocence from the very first--and it was I who found him in theshop. It's a most unfortunate thing that he was there, and a sadcoincidence that those rings of his were much of a muchness with the ringsin the tray in the old man's parlour--but I've never doubted him. No, sir!--I believe all this business goes a lot deeper than that! It's nocommon affair--old Daniel Multenius was attacked by somebody--somebody!--for some special reason--and it's going to take a lot of getting at. AndI'm convinced this Parslett affair is a development--Parslett's beenpoisoned because he knew too much. "

"You say you don't know what particular poison was used?" asked Purdie. "It would be something of a clue to know that. Because, if it turned outto be one of a very subtle nature, that would prove that whoeveradministered it had made a special study of poisons. "

"I don't know that--yet, " answered Ayscough. "But, " he continued, risingfrom his chair, "if you'd step round with me to the hospital, we might getto know, now. There's one or two of their specialists been making anexamination. It's only a mere step along the street. "

Purdie followed the detective out and along Praed Street. Before theyreached the doors of the hospital, a man came up to Ayscough: a solid, substantial-looking person, of cautious manner and watchful eye, whoseglance wandered speculatively from the detective to his companion. Evidently sizing Purdie up as some one in Ayscough's confidence, he spoke--in the fashion of one who has something as mysterious, as important, tocommunicate. 

"Beg your pardon, Mr. Ayscough, " he said. "A word with you sir. You knowme, Mr. Ayscough?"

Ayscough looked sharply at his questioner. 

"Mr. Goodyer, isn't it?" he asked. "Oh, yes, I remember. What is it? Youcan speak before this gentleman--it's all right. "

"About this affair of last night--Parslett, you know, " said Goodyer, drawing the detective aside, and lowering his voice, so that passers-bymight not hear. "There's something I can tell you--I've heard all aboutthe matter from Parslett's wife. But I've not told her what I can tellyou, Mr. Ayscough. "

"And--what's that?" enquired the detective. 

"I'm Parslett's landlord, you know, " continued Goodyer. "He's had thatshop and dwelling-house of me for some years. Now, Parslett's not beendoing very well of late, from one cause or another, and to put it in anutshell, he owed me half a year's rent. I saw him yesterday, and told himI must have the money at once: in fact, I pressed him pretty hard aboutit. --I'd been at him for two or three weeks, and I could see it was nogood going on. He'd been down in the mouth about it, the last week or so, but yesterday afternoon he was confident enough. 'Now, you needn't alarmyourself, Mr. Goodyer, ' he said. 'There's a nice bit of money going to bepaid to me tonight, and I'll settle up with you before I stick my head onthe pillow, ' he said. 'Tonight, for certain?' says I. 'Before even I go tobed!' he says. 'I can't fix it to a minute, but you can rely on me callingat your house in St. Mary's Terrace before eleven o'clock--with themoney. ' And he was so certain about it, Mr. Ayscough, that I said no morethan that I should be much obliged, and I'd wait up for him. And, "concluded Goodyer, "I did wait up--till half-past twelve--but he nevercame. So this morning, of course, I walked round here--and then I heardwhat happened--about him being picked up dying and since being dead--withfifty pounds in gold in his pocket. Of course, Mr. Ayscough, that was themoney he referred to. "

"You haven't mentioned this to anybody?" asked Ayscough. 

"Neither to the widow nor to anybody--but you, " replied Goodyer. 

"Don't!" said Ayscough. "Keep it to yourself till I give you the word. Youdidn't hear anything from Parslett as to where the money was coming from?"

"Not one syllable!" answered Goodyer. "But I could see he was dead sure ofhaving it. "

"Well--keep quiet about it, " continued Ayscough. "There'll be an inquest, you know, and what you have to tell'll come in handy, then. There's somemystery about all this affair, Mr. Goodyer, and it's going to take someunravelling. "

"You're right!" said Goodyer. "I believe you!"

He went off along the street, and the detective turned to Purdie andmotioned him towards the hospital. 

"Queer, all that, sir!" he muttered. "Very queer! But it all tends toshowing that my theory's the right one. Now if you'll just stop in thewaiting-room a few minutes, I'll find out if these doctors have come toany conclusion about the precise nature of the poison. "

Purdie waited for ten minutes, speculating on the curiosities of themystery into which he had been so strangely plunged: at last the detectivecame back, shaking his head. 

"Can't get a definite word out of 'em, yet, " he said, as they went away. "There's two or three of 'em--big experts in--what do you call it--oh, yes, toxology--putting their heads together over the analysing business, and they won't say anything so far--they'll leave that to the inquest. ButI gathered this much, Mr. Purdie, from the one I spoke to--this manParslett was poisoned in some extremely clever fashion, and by some poisonthat's not generally known, which was administered to him probably half-an-hour before it took effect. What's that argue, sir, but that whoevergave him that poison is something of an expert? Deep game, Mr. Purdie, avery deep game indeed!--and now I don't think there's much need to beanxious about that young friend of yours. I'm certain, anyway, that theman who poisoned Parslett is the man who killed poor old Daniel Multenius. But--we shall see. "

Purdie parted from Ayscough outside the hospital and walked along to Mrs. Flitwick's house in Star Street. He met Melky Rubinstein emerging from thedoor; Melky immediately pulled out a telegram which he thrust intoPurdie's hand. 

"Just come, mister!" exclaimed Melky. "There's a word for you in it--I wasgoing to your hotel. Read what he says. "

Purdie unfolded the pink paper and read. 

"On the track all right understand Purdie is in town if he comes to StarStreet explain all to him will wire again later in day. "

"Good!" said Purdie. He handed back the telegram and looked meditativelyat Melky. "Are you busy this morning?" he asked. 

"Doing no business whatever, mister, " lisped Melky, solemnly. "Not untilthis business is settled--not me!"

"Come to the hotel with me, " continued Purdie. "I want to talk to youabout something. "

But when they reached the hotel, all thought of conversation was drivenout of Purdie's mind for the moment. The hall-porter handed him a note, remarking that it had just come. Purdie's face flushed as he recognizedthe handwriting: he turned sharply away and tore open the envelope. Inside, on a half-sheet of notepaper, were a few lines--from the prettygoverness at Mr. Spencer Levendale's. 

"Can you come here at once and ask for me? There is something seriouslywrong: I am much troubled and have no one in London I can consult. "

With a hasty excuse to Melky, Purdie ran out of the hotel, and set off inquick response to the note. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE PRIVATE LABORATORY

As he turned down Spring Street towards Sussex Square, Purdie hastilyreviewed his knowledge of Mr. Spencer Levendale and his family. He had metthem, only two months previously, at a remote and out-of-the-way place inthe Highlands, in a hotel where he and they were almost the only guests. Under such circumstances, strangers are soon drawn together, and asLevendale and Purdie had a common interest in fishing they were quickly ongood terms. But Purdie was thinking now as he made his way towardsLevendale's London house that he really knew very little of this man whowas evidently mixed up in some way with the mystery into which young AndieLauriston had so unfortunately also become intermingled. He knew thatLevendale was undoubtedly a very wealthy man: there were all the signs ofwealth about him; he had brought several servants down to the Highlandswith him: money appeared to be plentiful with him as pebbles are on abeach. Purdie learnt bit by bit that Levendale had made a great fortune inSouth Africa, that he had come home to England and gone into Parliament;that he was a widower and the father of two little girls--he learnt, too, that the children's governess, Miss Elsie Bennett, a pretty and takinggirl of twenty-two or three, had come with them from Cape Town. But ofLevendale's real character and self he knew no more than could be gainedfrom holiday acquaintance. Certain circumstances told him by Melky aboutthe rare book left in old Multenius's parlour inclined Purdie to besomewhat suspicious that Levendale was concealing something which he knewabout that affair--and now here was Miss Bennett writing what, on the faceof it, looked like an appealing letter to him, as if something hadhappened. 

Purdie knew something had happened as soon as he was admitted to thehouse. Levendale's butler, who had accompanied his master to theHighlands, and had recognized Purdie on his calling the previous day, camehurrying to him in the hall, as soon as the footman opened the door. 

"You haven't seen Mr. Levendale since you were here yesterday, sir?" heasked, in a low, anxious voice. 

"Seen Mr. Levendale? No!" answered Purdie. "Why--what do you mean?"

The butler looked round at a couple of footmen who hung about the door. 

"Don't want to make any fuss about it, Mr. Purdie, " he whispered, "thoughit's pretty well known in the house already. The fact is, sir, Mr. Levendale's missing!"

"Missing?" exclaimed Purdie. "Since when?"

"Only since last night, sir, " replied the butler, "but the circumstancesare queer. He dined out with some City gentlemen, somewhere, last night, and he came home about ten o'clock. He wasn't in the house long. He wentinto his laboratory--he spends a lot of time in experimenting inchemistry, you know, sir--and he called me in there. 'I'm going out againfor an hour, Grayson, ' he says. 'I shall be in at eleven: don't go to bed, for I want to see you for a minute or two. ' Of course, there was nothingin that, Mr. Purdie, and I waited for him. But he never came home--and nomessage came. He never came home at all--and this morning I've telephonedto his two clubs, and to one or two other places in the City--nobody'sseen or heard anything of him. And I can't think what's happened--it's allso unlike his habits. "

"He didn't tell you where he was going?" asked Purdie. 

"No, sir, but he went on foot, " answered the butler. "I let him out--heturned up Paddington way. "

"You didn't notice anything out of the common about him?" suggestedPurdie. 

The butler hesitated for a moment. 

"Well, sir, " he said at last, "I did notice something. Come this way, Mr. Purdie. "

Turning away from the hall, he led Purdie through the library in whichLevendale had received Ayscough and his companions into a small room thatopened out of it. 

Purdie, looking round him, found that he was standing in a laboratory, furnished with chemical apparatus of the latest descriptions. Implementsand appliances were on all sides; there were rows of bottles on theshelves; a library of technical books filled a large book-case; everythingin the place betokened the pursuit of a scientific investigator. AndPurdie's keen sense of smell immediately noted the prevalent atmosphere ofdrugs 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 bottlesinto 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 cantell that by the make of 'em. "

Purdie glanced at the shelf which the butler indicated. The bottles rangedon it were all of blue glass, and all triangular in shape, and each bore ared label with the word _Poison_ prominently displayed. 

"Odd!" he said. "You've some idea?" he went on, looking closely at thebutler. "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 intoa phial, which he carefully puts in his pocket, and when he goes out, andwhen 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. "Theremay be some quite good reason for Mr. Levendale's absence. He'd no troubleof 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 itout, 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 onlywait--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 childrenhave just gone out with their nurses. "

He led Purdie through the house to a sitting-room looking out on thegarden 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 todo--until we hear something. "

Left alone, Purdie and Elsie Bennett looked at each other as they shookhands. She was a fair, slender girl, naturally shy and retiring; she wasmanifestly shy at renewing her acquaintance with Purdie, and Purdiehimself, conscious of his own feelings towards her, felt a certainembarrassment 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 seemstrange, but it's a fact!--I couldn't think of anybody else! It seemed sofortunate that you were in London--and close by. I felt that--that I coulddepend 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 nevercoming back, nor sending any message?" she continued. "As Grayson says, considering Mr. Levendale's habits, that is certainly very strange! But--Iwant to tell you something beyond that--I must tell somebody! And I knowthat if I tell you you'll keep it secret--until, or unless you think youought 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 theaccount of the inquest?"

"Every word--and heard more, besides, " answered Purdie. "That youngfellow, Andie Lauriston, is an old schoolmate and friend of mine. I camehere yesterday to see him, and found him plunged into this business. Ofcourse, he's absolutely innocent. "

"Has he been arrested?" asked Elsie, almost eagerly. 

"No!" replied Purdie. "He's gone away--to get evidence that those ringswhich are such a feature of the case are really his and were hismother's. "

"Have you noticed these particulars, at the end of the inquest, about thebook which was found in the pawnbroker's parlour?" she went on. "TheSpanish 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 tellsomebody--I can't, I daren't keep it to myself any longer! Mr. Levendaleisn't telling the truth about that book!"

Purdie involuntarily glanced at the door--and drew his chair nearer toElsie'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 cornerof Chapel Street, and that he was so concerned about the loss that heimmediately sent advertisements off to every morning newspaper in London. The last part of that is true--the first part is not true! Mr. Levendaledid not lose his book--he did not leave it in the 'bus! I'm sorry to haveto 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 andsuspicion. The clouds centring round Levendale were certainly thickening. 

"Now, just tell me--how do you know all this?" he asked. "Rely on me--tothe full!"

"I'll tell you, " replied Elsie, readily. "Because, about four o'clock onthe afternoon of the old man's death, I happened to be at the corner ofChapel 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 wascarrying that book in his hand!"

"You're sure it was that book?" asked Purdie. 

"According to the description given in this account and in theadvertisement--yes, " she answered. "I noticed the fine binding. AlthoughMr. Levendale didn't see me--there were a lot of people about--I was closeto him. I am sure it was the book described here. "

"And--he went in the direction of the pawnshop?" said Purdie. "What onearth 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 butlerentered, bearing an open telegram in his hand. His face wore an expressionof relief. 

"Here's a wire from Mr. Levendale, Miss Bennett, " he said. "It's addressedto me. He says, 'Shall be away from home, on business, for a few days. Letall go on as usual. ' That's better, miss! But, " continued Grayson, glancingat Purdie, "it's still odd--for do you see, sir, where that wire has beensent from? Spring Street--close by!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CONFERENCE

Purdie was already sufficiently acquainted with the geography of thePaddington district to be aware of the significance of Grayson's remark. The Spring Street Post Office, at which Levendale's wire had been handedin, was only a few minutes' walk from the house. It stood, in fact, betweenPurdie's hotel and Sussex Square, and he had passed it on his way toLevendale'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 todo but walk down one street and turn the corner of another to give hismessage 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 musthave been close by--then!"

"Not necessarily, " remarked Purdie. "He may have sent a messenger withthat 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. "Lookhere!--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 toEngland, three years ago, " she answered. "I know that he's very rich, anda very busy man, and a member of Parliament, and that he goes to the Citya great deal--and that's all! He's a very reserved man, too--of course, henever tells me anything. I've never had any conversation with himexcepting 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, whenI myself saw him leave the 'bus with it in his hand, and go down PraedStreet with it?" she asked. "Doesn't it look as if he were the person wholeft 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 thathe did leave it there, " remarked Purdie, quietly. "There's more in allthis than lies on the surface. You wanted my advice? Very well don't sayanything to anybody till you see me again. I must go now--there's a manwaiting 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'suseless 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 theconversation to more personal matters. But he was essentially a businessman, and the matters of the moment seemed to be critical. So he promisedto return, and then hurried back to his hotel--to find Melky Rubinsteinpacing up and down outside the entrance. 

Purdie tapped Melky's shoulder and motioned him to walk along PraedStreet. 

"Look here!" he said. "I want you to take me to see your cousin--and thepawnshop. We must have a talk--you said your cousin's a good businesswoman. She's the sort we can discuss business with, eh?"

"My cousin Zillah Wildrose, mister, " answered Melky, solemnly, "is one ofthe best! She's a better headpiece on her than what I have--and that'ssaying 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'vedone. 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'sanything to do with our business?"

"Can't say, " answered Purdie. "Wait till we can discuss matters with yourcousin. "

Melky led the way to the side-door of the pawnshop. Since the old man'sdeath, the whole establishment had been closed--Zillah had refused to doany business until her grandfather's funeral was over. She received hervisitors in the parlour where old Daniel had been found dead: after amoment's inspection of her, and the exchange of a few remarks aboutLauriston, Purdie suggested that they should all sit down and talk mattersover. 

"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 knowsomething that Mrs. Goldmark can speak to--I've just been consideringmatters while I was waiting for you, Mr. Purdie, and I'm going to tell youand Zillah, and Mrs. Goldmark, of a curious fact that I know of. I'llfetch her--and while I'm away Zillah'll show you that there book what wasfound there. "

Purdie looked with interest at the Spanish manuscript which seemed to be afactor of such importance. 

"I suppose you never saw this before?" he asked, as Zillah laid it on thetable before him. "And you're certain it wasn't in the place when you wentout that afternoon, leaving your grandfather alone?"

"That I'm positive of, " answered Zillah. "I never saw it in my life untilmy attention was drawn to it after he was dead. That book was brought inhere during my absence, and it was neither bought nor pawned--that'sabsolutely certain! Of course, you know whose book it is?"

"Mr. Spencer Levendale's, " answered Purdie. "Yes I know all thoseparticulars--and about his advertisements for it, and a little more. And Iwant to discuss all that with you and your cousin. This Mrs. Goldmark--she'sto be fully trusted?"

Zillah replied that Mrs. Goldmark was worthy of entire confidence, and anold friend, and Melky presently returning with her, Purdie suggested theyshould all sit down and talk--informally and in strict privacy. 

"You know why I'm concerning myself in this?" he said, looking round athis three companions. "I'm anxious that Andie Lauriston should be fullyand entirely cleared! I've great faith in him--he's beginning what Ibelieve will be a successful career, and it would be a terrible thing ifany suspicion rested on him. So I want, for his sake, to thoroughly clearup this mystery about your relative's death. "

"Mister!" said Melky, in his most solemn tones. "Speaking for my cousinthere, 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 thefirst, knowing the young fellow as we do. So we're with you in thatmatter, ain't we, Zillah?"

"Mr. Purdie feels sure of that, " agreed Zillah, with a glance atLauriston'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 considerthe question of approaching the police when we've talked amongstourselves. Now--I want to ask you some very private questions. They springout 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 businessrelations with the late Mr. Rubinstein?"

Zillah shook her head. 

"None!--that I know of, " she answered. "I've helped my grandfather in thisbusiness 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 tellyou?" asked Purdie, turning to Zillah. 

"He might have had, " admitted Zillah. "He was out a good deal. I don'tknow what he might do when he went out. He was--close. We--it's no usedenying it--we don't know all about it. His solicitor's making someenquiries--I expect him here, any time, today. "

"It comes to this, " observed Purdie. "Your grandfather met his death byviolence, the man who attacked him came in here during your absence. Thequestion I want to get solved is--was the man who undoubtedly left thatbook 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 alook 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. " Hepulled out the platinum solitaire, laid it on the palm of one hand, andextended 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 thefellow to it lying in my desk!"

"And it was left on a table in your restaurant, " continued Melky, "by aman what looked like a Colonial party--I know!--I saw it by accident inyour 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 hereplatinum solitaire cuff-links are valuable--they're worth--well, I'd givea good few pounds for the pair. Now who's the man who lost one in thishere 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 samecurious and unusual device on each. Mister!--them studs has at some timeor 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! Itwas 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, mywaitress, Rosa, she picked it up exactly where he'd been sitting. So I putit 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. Inmy 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 seemsundoubtedly to have dropped those studs the same man who brought that bookin here? Or, had Mr. Multenius two callers here during your absence, MissWildrose? And--who is this mysterious man who dropped the studs--valuablethings, 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, andZillah, 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 evidentlyvery well known, looked a polite enquiry at the stranger as he took thechair which Melky drew forward for him. 

"As Mr. Purdie is presumably discussing this affair with you, " heobserved, "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 tospeak--you can tell us anything you like, before him. We were going intodetails when you come--there's some strange business on, Mr. Penniket! Andwe want to get a bit clear about it before we tell the police what weknow. "

"You know something that they don't know?" asked Mr. Penniket. 

"More than a bit!" replied Melky, laconically. "This here affair'srevolving itself into a network, mister, out of which somebody's going tofind it hard work to break through!"

The solicitor, who had been quietly inspecting Purdie, gave him a slysmile. 

"Then before I tell you what I have just found out, " he said, turning toMelky, "I think you had better tell me all you know, and what you havebeen discussing. Possibly, I may have something to tell which bears on ourknowledge. Let us be clear!"

He listened carefully while Purdie, at Zillah's request, told him brieflywhat had been said before his arrival, and Purdie saw at once that none ofthe facts surprised him. He asked Mrs. Goldmark one or two questions aboutthe man who was believed to have dropped one of his cuff-links in herrestaurant; he asked Melky a question as to his discovery of the other; hemade no comment on the answers which they gave him. Finally, he drew hischair nearer to the table at which they were sitting, and invited theirattention with a glance. 

"There is no doubt, " he said, "that the circumstances centring round thedeath 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 betweenhalf-past four and half-past five on Monday afternoon? We might evennarrow that down to--what happened between ten minutes to five and tenminutes past five? Daniel Multenius was left alone--we know that. Someperson undoubtedly came in here--perhaps more than one person came. Whowas the person? Were there two persons? If there were two, did they cometogether--or singly, separately? All that will have to be solved before wefind out who it was that assaulted my late client, and so injured him thathe died under the shock. Now, Miss Wildrose, and Mr. Rubinstein, there'sone fact which you may as well get into your minds at once. Your deceasedrelative 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 Multeniusrevealed any of them to me!" he continued. "I have acted for him in legalmatters 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 propertyowner--I did all his work of that sort. But as regards his secrets, I knownothing--except that since yesterday, I have discovered that he certainlyhad them. I have, as Miss Wildrose knows--and by her instructions--beenmaking some enquiries at the bank where Mr. Multenius kept his account--the Empire and Universal, in Lombard Street--and I have made some curiousunearthings in the course of them. Now then, between ourselves--Mr. Purdiebeing represented to me as in your entire confidence--I may as well tellyou that Daniel Multenius most certainly had dealings of a business naturecompletely outside his business as jeweller and pawnbroker in this shop. That's positively certain. And what is also certain is that in some ofthose dealings he was, in some way or another, intimately associated withthe 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, saythat he didn't know the poor old fellow!"

"Very likely, " said Mr. Penniket, drily. "It was not convenient to him--wewill assume--to admit that he did, just then. But I have discovered--fromthe bankers--that precisely two years ago, Mr. Spencer Levendale paid toDaniel 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, hedid--paid it in, himself, to Daniel Multenius's credit, at the Empire andUniversal. It went into the ordinary account, in the ordinary way, and wasused 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 aparticular question. I know you had assisted your grandfather a great dealof late years. Had you anything to do with his banking account?"

"No!" replied Zillah, promptly. "That's the one thing I never had anythingto do with. I never saw his pass-book, nor his deposit-book, nor even hischeque-book. He kept all that to himself. "

"Just so, " said Mr. Penniket. "Then, of course, you don't know that hedealt with considerable sums--evidently quite outside this business. Hemade large--sometimes very heavy--payments. And--this, I am convinced, isof great importance to the question we are trying to solve--most of thesepayments were sent to South Africa. "

The solicitor glanced round his audience as if anxious to see that itsvarious members grasped the significance of this announcement. And Melkyat once voiced the first impression of, at any rate, three of them. 

"Levendale comes from those parts!" he muttered. "Came here some two orthree years ago--by all I can gather. "

"Just so, " said Mr. Penniket. "Therefore, possibly this South Africanbusiness, in which my late client was undoubtedly engaged, is connectedwith Mr. Levendale. That can be found out. But I have still more to tellyou--perhaps, considering everything, the most important matter of thewhole lot. On Monday morning last--that would be a few hours before hisdeath--Mr. Multenius called at the bank and took from it a small packetwhich he had entrusted to his banker's keeping only a fortnightpreviously. The bankers do not know what was in that packet--he had morethan once got them to take care of similar packets at one time or another. But they described it to me just now. A packet, evidently enclosing asmall, hard box, some four or five inches square in all directions, wrapped in strong cartridge paper, and heavily sealed with red wax. Itbore Mr. Multenius's name and address--written by himself. Now, then, MissWildrose--he took that packet away from the bank at about twelve-thirty onMonday noon. Have you seen anything of it?"

"Nothing!" answered Zillah with certainty. "There's no such packet here, Mr. Penniket. I've been through everything--safes, drawers, chests, sincemy grandfather died, and I've not found anything that I didn't know of. Iremember that he went out last Monday morning--he was away two hours, andcame in again about a quarter past one, but I never saw such a packet inhis possession as that you describe. I know nothing of it. "

"Well, " said the solicitor, after a pause, "there are the facts. And thequestion now is--ought we not to tell all this to the police, at once?This connection of Levendale with my late client--as undoubted as it seemsto have been secret--needs investigation. According to Mr. Purdie here--Levendale has suddenly disappeared--or, at any rate, left home undermysterious circumstances. Has that disappearance anything to do withMultenius's death? Has it anything to do with the death of this next doorman, Parslett, last night? And has Levendale any connections with thestrange man who dropped one platinum solitaire stud in Mrs. Goldmark'srestaurant, and another in this parlour?"

No one attempted to answer these questions for a moment; then, Melky, asif seized with a sudden inspiration, smote the table and leaned over ittowards the solicitor. 

"Mr. Penniket!" he said, glancing around him as if to invite approval ofwhat he was about to say. "You're a lawyer, mister!--you can put things inorder and present 'em as if they was in a catalogue! Take the wholebusiness to New Scotland Yard, sir!--let the big men at headquarters havea go at it. That's what I say! There's some queer mystery at the bottom ofall this, Mr. Penniket, and it ain't a one-man job. Go to the Yard, mister--let 'em try their brains on it!"

Zillah made a murmured remark which seemed to second her cousin'sproposal, and Mr. Penniket turned to Purdie. 

"I understand you to be a business man, " he remarked. "What do you say?"

"As far as I can put things together, " answered Purdie, "I fully agreethat there is some extraordinary mystery round and about Mr. Multenius'sdeath. And as the detective force at New Scotland Yard exists for thesolution of such problems--why, I should certainly tell the authoritiesthere everything that is known. Why not?"

"Very good, " said Mr. Penniket. "Then it will be well if you two come withme. The more information we can give to the heads of the CriminalInvestigation Department, the better. We'll go there at once. "

In a few moments, the three men had gone, and Zillah and Mrs. Goldmark, left alone, looked at each other. 

"Mrs. Goldmark!" said Zillah, after a long silence. "Did you see that man, yourself, who's supposed to have dropped that platinum solitaire in yourrestaurant?"

"Did I see him?" exclaimed Mrs. Goldmark. "Do I see you, Zillah? See him Idid!--though never before, and never since! And ain't I the good memoryfor faces--and won't I know him again if he comes my way? Do you knowwhat?--I ain't never forgotten a face what I've once looked at! Comes fromkeeping an eye on customers who looks as if they might have forgot tobring their moneys with 'em!"

"Well, I hope you'll see this man again, " remarked Zillah. "I'd give a lotto get all the mystery cleared up. "

Mrs. Goldmark observed that mysteries were not cleared up in a day, andpresently went away to see that her business was being conducted properly. She was devoting herself to Zillah in very neighbourly fashion just then, but she had to keep running into the restaurant every hour or two to keepan eye on things. And during one of her absences, later in the earlyevening of that day, Zillah, alone in the house, answered a knock at thedoor, and opening it found Ayscough outside. His look betokened news, andZillah led him into the parlour. 

"Alone?" asked Ayscough. "Aye, well, I've something to tell you that Iwant you to keep to yourself--for a bit, anyway. Those rings, you know, that the young fellow, Lauriston, says are his, and had been hismother's?"

"Well?" said Zillah, faintly, and half-conscious of some coming bad news. "What of them?"

"Our people, " continued the detective, "have had some expert chap--jeweller, or something of that sort, examining those rings, and comparingthem with the rings that are in your tray. And in that tray there areseveral rings which have a private mark inside them. Now, then!--those tworings which Lauriston claims are marked in exactly the same fashion!"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

WHAT THE LAMPS SHONE ON

Zillah leaned suddenly back against the table by which she was standing, and Ayscough, who was narrowly watching the effect of his news, saw herturn very pale. She stood staring at him during a moment's silence; thenshe let a sharp exclamation escape her lips, and in the same instant hercolour came back--heightened from surprise and indignation. 

"Impossible!" she said. "I can't believe it; There may be marks inside ourrings--that's likely enough. But how could those marks correspond with themarks in his rings?"

"I tell you it is so!" answered Ayscough. "I've seen the marks in both--with my own eyes. It occurred to one of our bosses this evening to haveall the rings carefully examined by an expert--he got a man from one ofthe jeweller's shops in Edgware Road. This chap very soon pointed out thatinside the two rings which young Lauriston says are his, and come to himfrom his mother, are certain private marks--jewellers' marks, this mancalled 'em--which are absolutely identical with similar marks which areinside some of the rings in the tray which was found on this table. That'sa fact!--I tell you I've seen 'em--all! And--you see the significance ofit! Of course, our people are now dead certain that young Lauriston'sstory is false, and that he grabbed those two rings out of that tray. See?"

"Are you certain of it--yourself?" demanded Zillah. 

Ayscough hesitated and finally shook his head. 

"Well, between ourselves, I'm not!" he answered. "I've a feeling from thefirst, that the lad's innocent enough. But it's a queer thing--and it'sterribly against him. And--what possible explanation can there be?"

"You say you've seen those marks, " said Zillah. "Would you know themagain--on other goods?"

"I should!" replied Ayscough. "I can tell you what they are. There's theletter M. And then two crosses--one on each side of the letter. Verysmall, you know, and worn, too--this man I'm talking of used some sort ofa magnifying glass. "

Zillah turned away and went into the shop, which was all in darkness. Ayscough, waiting, heard the sound of a key being turned, then of ametallic tinkling; presently the girl came back, carrying a velvet-linedtray in one hand, and a jeweller's magnifying glass in the other. 

"The rings in that tray you're talking about--the one you took away--areall very old stock, " she remarked. "I've heard my grandfather say he'd hadsome of them thirty years or more. Here are some similar ones--we'll seeif they're marked in the same fashion. "

Five minutes later, Zillah had laid aside several rings marked in the wayAyscough had indicated, and she turned from them to him with a look ofalarm. 

"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I know that these rings, andthose in that tray at the police-station, are part of old stock that mygrandfather had when he came here. He used to have a shop, years ago, inthe City--I'm not quite sure where, exactly--and this is part of the stockhe brought from it. But, how could Mr. Lauriston's rings bear those marks?Because, from what I know of the trade, those are private marks--mygrandfather's private marks!"

"Well, just so--and you can imagine what our people are inclined to sayabout it, " said the detective. "They say now that the two rings whichLauriston claims never were his nor his mother's, but that he stole themout of your grandfather's tray. They're fixed on that, now. "

"What will they do?" asked Zillah, anxiously. "Is he in danger?"

Ayscough gave her a knowing look. 

"Between you and me, " he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I camearound here privately--on my own hook, you know. I should be sorry if thisreally is fixed on the young fellow--there's a mystery, but it may becleared up. Now, he's gone off to find somebody who can prove that thoserings really were his mother's. You, no doubt, know where he's gone?"

"Yes--but I'm not going to tell, " said Zillah firmly. "Don't ask me!"

"Quite right--I don't want to know myself, " answered Ayscough. "And you'llprobably have an idea when he's coming back? All right--take a tip fromme. Keep him out of the way a bit--stop him from coming into thisdistrict. Let him know all about those marks--and if he can clear that up, well and good. You understand?--and of course, all this is between you andme. "

"You're very good, Mr. Ayscough, " replied Zillah, warmly. "I won't forgetyour kindness. And I'm certain this about the marks can be cleared up--butI don't know how!"

"Well--do as I say, " said the detective. "Just give the tip to your cousinMelky, and to that young Scotch gentleman--let 'em keep Lauriston out ofthe way for a few days. In the meantime--this is a very queer case!--something may happen that'll fix the guilt on somebody else--conclusively. I've my own ideas and opinions--but we shall see. Maybe we shall see alot--and everybody'll be more astonished than they're thinking for. "

With this dark and sinister hint, Ayscough went away, and Zillah took therings back to the shop, and locked them up again. And then she sat down towait for Mrs. Goldmark--and to think. She had never doubted Lauriston'sstory for one moment, and she did not doubt it now. But she was quick tosee the serious significance of what the detective had just told her andshe realized that action must be taken on the lines he had suggested. Andso, having made herself ready for going out, she excused herself to Mrs. Goldmark when that good lady returned, and without saying anything to heras to the nature of her errand, hurried round to Star Street, to findMelky Rubinstein and tell him of the new development. 

Mrs. Flitwick herself opened the door to Zillah and led her into thenarrow passage. But at the mention of Melky she shook her head. 

"I ain't set eyes on Mr. Rubinstein not since this morning, miss, " saidshe. "He went out with that young Scotch gentleman what come hereyesterday asking for Mr. Lauriston, and he's never been in again--not evento put his nose inside the door. And at twelve o'clock there come atelegram for him--which it was the second that come this morning. Thefirst, of course, he got before he went out; the one that come at noon'sawaiting him. No--I ain't seen him all day!"

Zillah's quick wits were instantly at work as soon as she heard of thetelegram. 

"Oh, I know all about that wire, Mrs. Flitwick!" she exclaimed. "It's asmuch for me as for my cousin. Give it to me--and if Mr. Rubinstein comesin soon--or when he comes--tell him I've got it, and ask him to come roundto me immediately--it's important. "

Mrs. Flitwick produced the telegram at once, and Zillah, repeating hercommands about Melky, hurried away with it. But at the first street lampshe paused, and tore open the envelope, and pulled out the message. As shesupposed, it was from Lauriston, and had been handed in at Peebles ateleven o'clock that morning. 

"Got necessary information returning at once meet me at King's Cross atnine-twenty this evening. L. "

Zillah looked at her watch. It was then ten minutes to nine. There wasjust half an hour before Lauriston's train was due. Without a moment'shesitation, she turned back along Star Street, hurried into Edgware Roadand hailing the first taxi-cab she saw, bade its driver to get to theGreat Northern as fast as possible. Whatever else happened, Lauriston mustbe met and warned. 

The taxi-cab made good headway along the Marylebone and Euston Roads, andthe hands of the clock over the entrance to King's Cross had not yetindicated a quarter past nine when Zillah was set down close by. Shehurried into the station, and to the arrival platform. All the way alongin the cab she had been wondering what to do when she met Lauriston--notas to what she should tell him, for that was already settled, but as towhat to advise him to do about following Ayscough's suggestion and keepingout of the way, for awhile. She had already seen enough of him to knowthat he was naturally of high spirit and courage, and that he would hatethe very idea of hiding, or of seeming to run away. Yet, what other coursewas open if he wished to avoid arrest? Zillah, during her short businessexperience had been brought in contact with the police authorities andtheir methods more than once, and she knew that there is nothing theprofessional detective likes so much as to follow the obvious--as theeasiest and safest. She had been quick to appreciate all that Ayscoughtold her--she knew how the police mind would reason about it: it would bequite enough for it to know that on the rings which Andy Lauriston saidwere his there were marks which were certainly identical with those on hergrandfather's property: now that the police authorities were in possessionof that fact, they would go for Lauriston without demur or hesitation, leaving all the other mysteries and ramifications of the Multenius affairto be sorted, or to sort themselves, at leisure. One thing was certain--Andie Lauriston was in greater danger now than at any moment sinceAyscough found him leaving the shop, and she must save him--against hisown inclinations if need be. 

But before the train from the North was due, Zillah was fated to have yetanother experience. She had taken up a position directly beneath apowerful lamp at the end of the arrival platform, so that Lauriston, whowould be obliged to pass that way, could not fail to see her. Suddenlyturning, to glance at the clock in the roof behind her, she was aware of aman, young, tall, athletic, deeply bronzed, as from long contact with theSouthern sun, who stood just behind a knot of loungers, his heavy overcoatand the jacket beneath it thrown open, feeling in his waistcoat pockets asif for his match-box--an unlighted cigar protruded from the corner of hisrather grim, determined lips. But it was not at lips, nor at the cigar, nor at the searching fingers that Zillah looked, after that firstcomprehensive glance--her eyes went straight to an object which shone inthe full glare of the lamp above her head. The man wore an old-fashioned, double-breasted fancy waistcoat, but so low as to reveal a good deal ofhis shirt-front. And in that space, beneath his bird's-eye blue tie, loosely knotted in a bow, Zillah saw a stud, which her experienced eyesknew to be of platinum, and on it was engraved the same curious devicewhich she had seen once before that day--on the solitaire exhibited byMelky. 

The girl was instantly certain that here was the man who had visited Mrs. Goldmark's eating-house. Her first instinct was to challenge him with thefact--but as she half moved towards him, he found his match-box, struck amatch, and began to light his cigar. And just then came the great engineof the express, panting its way to a halt beside them, and with it thefolk on the platform began to stir, and Zillah was elbowed aside. Hersituation was perplexing--was she to watch the man and perhaps loseLauriston in the crowd already passing from the train, or--

The man was still leisurely busy with his cigar, and Zillah turned andwent a few steps up the platform. She suddenly caught sight of Lauriston, and running towards him gripped his arm, and drew him to the lamp. But inthat moment of indecision, the man had vanished. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MR. STUYVESANT GUYLER

Lauriston, surprised beyond a little at seeing Zillah, found his surpriseturned into amazement as she seized his arm and forced him along theplatform, careless of the groups of passengers and the porters, crowdingabout the baggage vans. 

"What is it?" he demanded. "Has something happened? Where are we going?"

But Zillah held on determinedly, her eyes fixed ahead. 

"Quick!" she said, pantingly. "A man I saw just now! He was there--he'sgone--while I looked for you. We must find him! He must have gone thisway. Andie!--look for him! A tall, clean-shaven man in a slouched hat anda heavy travelling coat--a foreigner of some sort. Oh, look!"

It was the first time she had called Lauriston by his name, and he gaveher arm an involuntary pressure as they hastened along. 

"But why?" he asked. "Who is he--what do you want with him? What's it allabout?"

"Oh, find him!" she exclaimed. "You don't know how important it is! If Ilose sight of him now, I'll very likely never see him again. And he mustbe found--and stopped--for your sake!"

They had come to the end of the platform, by that time, and Lauristonlooked left and right in search of the man described. Suddenly he twistedZillah round. 

"Is that he--that fellow talking to another man?" he asked. "See him--there?"

"Yes!" said Zillah. She saw the man of the platinum stud again, and onseeing him, stopped dead where she was, holding Lauriston back. The man, leisurely smoking his cigar, was chatting to another man, who, from thefact that he was carrying a small suit-case in one hand and a rug over theother arm, had evidently come in by the just-arrived express. "Yes!" shecontinued. "That's the man! And--we've just got to follow him wherever hegoes!"

"What on earth for?" asked Lauriston. "What mystery's this? Who is he?"

At that moment the two men parted, with a cordial handshake; the man ofthe suit-case and the rug turned towards the stairs which led to theunderground railway; the other man walked slowly away through the front ofthe station in the direction of the Great Northern Hotel. And Zillahimmediately dragged Lauriston after him, keeping a few yards' distance, but going persistently forward. The man in front crossed the road, andstrode towards the portico of the hotel--and Zillah suddenly made up hermind. 

"We've got to speak to that man!" she said. "Don't ask why, now--you'llknow in a few minutes. Ask him if he'll speak to me?"

Lauriston caught up the stranger as he set foot on the steps leading tothe hotel door. He felt uncomfortable and foolish--but Zillah's tone lefthim no option but to obey. 

"I beg your pardon, " said Lauriston, as politely as possible, "but--thislady is very anxious to speak to you. "

The man turned, glanced at Zillah, who had hurried up, and lifted hisslouched hat with a touch of old-fashioned courtesy. There was a stronglight burning just above them: in its glare all three looked at eachother. The stranger smiled--a little wonderingly. 

"Why, sure!" he said in accents that left no doubt of his American origin. "I'd be most happy. You're not mistaking me for somebody else?"

Zillah was already flushed with embarrassment. Now that she had run herquarry to earth, and so easily, she scarcely knew what to do with it. 

"You'll think this very strange, " she said, stammeringly, "but if youdon't mind telling me something?--you see, I saw you just now in thestation, when you were feeling for your match-box, and I noticed that youwore a platinum stud--with an unusual device on it. "

The American laughed--a good-natured, genial laugh--and threw open hiscoat. At the same moment he thrust his wrists forward. 

"This stud!" he said. "That's so!--it is platinum, and the device iscurious. And the device is right there, too, see--on those solitaire cuff-studs! But--"

He paused looking at Zillah, whose eyes were now fastened on the cuff-studs, and who was obviously so astonished as to have lost her tongue. 

"You seemed mighty amazed at my studs!" said the stranger, with anotherlaugh. "Now, you'll just excuse me if I ask--why?"

Zillah regained her wits with an effort, and became as business-like asusual. 

"Don't, please, think I'm asking idle and purposeless questions, " shesaid. "Have you been long in London?"

"A few days only, " answered the stranger, readily enough. 

"Have you read of what's already called the Praed Street Murder in thepapers?" continued Zillah. 

"Yes--I read that, " the stranger said, his face growing serious. "Theaffair of the old man--the pawnbroker with the odd name. Yes!"

"I'm the old man's granddaughter, " said Zillah, brusquely. "Now, I'll tellyou why I was upset by seeing your platinum stud. A solitaire stud, madeof platinum, and ornamented with exactly the same device as yours, wasfound in our parlour after my grandfather's death--and another, evidentlythe fellow to it, was found in an eating-house, close by. Now, do youunderstand why I wished to speak to you?"

While Zillah spoke, the American's face had been growing graver andgraver, and when she made an end, he glanced at Lauriston and shook hishead. 

"Say!" he said. "That's a very serious matter! You're sure the device wasthe same, and the material platinum?"

"I've been reared in the jewellery trade, " replied Zillah. "The things I'mtalking of are of platinum--and the device is precisely the same as thaton your stud. "

"Well!--that's mighty queer!" remarked the American. "I can't tell you whyit's queer, all in a minute, but I do assure you it's just about thequeerest thing I ever heard of in my life--and I've known a lot ofqueerness. Look here!--I'm stopping at this hotel--will you come in withme, and we'll just get a quiet corner and talk some? Come right in, then. "

He led the way into the hotel, through the hall, and down a corridor fromwhich several reception rooms opened. Looking into one, a small smokinglounge, and finding it empty, he ushered them aside. But on the thresholdZillah paused. Her business instincts were by this time fully aroused. Shefelt certain that whoever this stranger might he, he had nothing to dowith the affair in Praed Street, and yet might be able to throwextraordinary light on it, and she wanted to take a great step towardsclearing it up. She turned to the American. 

"Look here!" she said. "I've told you what I'm after, and who I am. Thisgentleman is Mr. Andrew Lauriston. Did you read his name in the paper'saccount of that inquest?"

The American glanced at Lauriston with some curiosity. 

"Sure!" he answered. "The man that found the old gentleman dead. "

"Just so, " said Zillah. "There are two friends of ours making enquiries onMr. Lauriston's behalf at this moment. One of them's my cousin, Mr. Rubinstein; the other's Mr. Purdie, an old friend of Mr. Lauriston's. I'vean idea where'll they'll be, just now--do you mind if I telephone them tocome here, at once, so that they can hear what you have to tell us?"

"Not in the least!" assented the American heartily. "I'll be glad to helpin any way I can--I'm interested. Here!--there's a telephone box rightthere--you go in now, and call those fellows up and tell 'em to come rightalong, quick!"

He and Lauriston waited while Zillah went into the telephone box: she feltsure that Melky and Purdie would have returned to Praed Street by thattime, and she rang up Mrs. Goldmark at the Pawnshop to enquire. Within aminute or two she had rejoined Lauriston and the American--during herabsence the stranger had been speaking to a waiter, and he now led his twoguests to a private sitting-room. 

"We'll be more private in this apartment, " he observed. "No fear ofinterruption or being overheard. I've told the waiter man there's twogentlemen coming along, and they're to be brought in here as soon as theyland. Will they be long?"

"They'll be here within twenty minutes, " answered Zillah. "It's very kindof you to take so much trouble!"

The American drew an easy chair to the fire, and pointed Zillah to it. 

"Well, " he remarked, "I guess that in a fix of this sort, you can't taketoo much trouble! I'm interested in this case--and a good deal more thaninterested now that you tell me about these platinum studs. I reckon I canthrow some light on that, anyway! But we'll keep it till your friendscome. And I haven't introduced myself--my name's Stuyvesant Guyler. I'm aNew 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 connectedwith 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 indue 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. "Butyou'll see that when I tell you what I know. "

Purdie and Melky Rubinstein entered the room within the twenty minuteswhich Zillah had predicted--full of wonder to find her and Lauriston incompany with a total stranger. But Zillah explained matters in a fewwords, and forbade any questioning until Mr. Stuyvesant Guyler had toldhis story. 

"And before I get on to that, " said Guyler, who had been quietlyscrutinizing his two new visitors while Zillah explained the situation, "I'd just like to see that platinum solitaire that Mr. Rubinstein pickedup--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, producinga little packet wrapped in tissue paper. "There you are!"

Guyler took the stud which Melky handed to him and laid it on the tablearound which they were all sitting. After glancing at it for a moment, hewithdrew 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'sno possible doubt at all on that point. Well!--this is indeed mightyqueer! Now, I'll tell you straight out. These studs--all of 'em--are partsof six sets of similar things, all made of that very expensive metal, platinum, in precisely the same fashion, and ornamented with the samespecially invented device, and given to six men who had been of assistanceto him in a big deal, as a little mark of his appreciation, by a man thatsome 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 whichthe American expected, and he smiled, a little grimly, as he looked fromone face to another. As for his hearers, they first looked at each otherand then at him, and Guyler laughed and went on. 

"That makes you jump!" he said. "Well, now, at the end of that inquestbusiness in the papers the other day I noticed Spencer Levendale's namementioned 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 thesame Spencer Levendale I'd known out there in South Africa, five yearsago. And to tell you the truth, I've been watching your papers, morningand evening, since, to see if there was any more news of him. But so far Ihaven't seen any. "

Purdie and Melky exchanged glances, and in response to an obvious hintfrom Melky, Purdie spoke. 

"We can give you some news, then, " he said. "It'll be common propertytomorrow morning. Levendale has mysteriously disappeared from his house, and from his usual haunts!--and nobody knows where he is. And it'sconsidered that this disappearance has something to do with the PraedStreet affair. "

"Sure!" assented Guyler. "That's just about a dead certainty. And in thePraed Street affair, these platinum stud things are going to play a goodpart, and when you and your police have got to the bottom of it, you'llsure find that something else has a big part, too!"

"What?" asked Purdie. 

"Why, diamonds!" answered the American, with a quiet smile. "Justdiamonds! Diamonds'll be at the bottom of the bag--sure!"

There was a moment of surprised silence, and then Melky turned eagerly tothe 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'vebeen a bit of a rolling stone, do you see--knocked about the world, prettyconsiderable, doing one thing and another, and I've falsified the oldsaying, 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'tsay in what way exactly--for I never exactly knew--but it was well knownthat he'd made a big pile, buying and selling these goods, and he was avery 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 carrythrough--never mind what it was--and he felt pretty grateful to us, Ireckon. And as we were all warmish men so far as money was concerned, itwasn't the sort of thing that he could hand out cheques for, so he hit onthe notion of having sets of studs made of platinum--which is, as you'reaware, the most valuable metal known, and on every stud he had a device ofhis 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'sbeen 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 knowthe 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 wouldunderstand if you knew the circumstances--this was a queer sort of asecret deal, in which the assistance of various men of differentnationality was wanted, and none of us knew any of the rest. However, Idid 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 likemyself--knocked around, taking up this and that, as long as there wasmoney in it. I came across him in Johannesburg, maybe a year after thatdeal 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 heis?"

"Not a ghost of a notion!" said Guyler. "Didn't talk with him more thanonce, 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 moreof a Colonial than an Englishman--he'd been out in South Africa, doing onething and another, since he was a boy. "

"S'elp me if that doesn't sound like the man who was in Mrs. Goldmark'srestaurant!" said Melky. "Just what she describes, anyhow!"

"Why, certainly--I reckon that is the man, " remarked Guyler. "That's whatI've been figuring on, all through. I tell you all this mystery is aroundsome diamond affair in which this lady's grandfather, and Mr. SpencerLevendale, and this man Purvis have been mixed up--sure! And the thing--inmy 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 anythingabout this other man because we didn't know anything, till now. You'llhave no objection to going there tomorrow?"

"Not at all!" replied Guyler, cheerfully. "I'm located at this hotel for aweek 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 inLondon this journey. No, I've no objection to take a hand. But--it seemsto me--there's still a lot of difficulty about this young gentleman here--Mr. Lauriston. I read all the papers carefully, and sized up hispredicament. 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 herexcitement in listening to the American's story. She now turned to Purdieand the other two. 

"I'd forgotten!" she exclaimed. "The danger's still there. Ayscough's beenat 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 ringsdid 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 outwho gave those two rings to my mother! I can prove it! I don't care a hangfor 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 therings, " he said. "Tell us! Just give us the brief facts. "

"I'm going to, " answered Lauriston, still indignant. "I thought the wholething over as I went down in the train. I remembered that if there was oneperson living in Peebles who would be likely to know about my mother andthose rings, it would be an old friend of hers, Mrs. Taggart--you knowher, 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 ringswell enough: she described them accurately--what's more she told me what Ididn't know--how they came into my mother's possession. You know as wellas I do, John, that my father and mother weren't over well off--and mymother used to make a bit of extra money by letting her rooms to summervisitors. One summer she had a London solicitor, a Mr. Killick, stayingthere for a month--at least he came for a month, but he was taken ill, andhe was there more than two months. My mother nursed him through hisillness--and after he'd returned to London, he sent her those rings. And--if there are marks on them, " concluded Lauriston, "that correspond withmarks on the rings in that tray, all I have to say is that those marksmust have been there when Mr. Killick bought them!--for they've never beenout of our possession--my mother's and mine--until I took them to pawn. "

Zillah suddenly clapped her hands--and she and Melky exchanged significantglances which the others did not understand. 

"That's it!" she exclaimed. "That's what puzzled me at first. Now I'm notpuzzled any more. Melky knows what I mean. "

"What she means, mister, " assented Melky, tapping Purdie's arm, "isprecisely 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. Themtwo rings, and some of the rings in the tray what's been mentioned allcome from the same maker! There ain't nothing wonderful in all that to meand 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 yearssince he gave my mother those rings, and according to Mrs. Taggart, he wasthen a middle-aged man, so he's now getting on in years. But--if he'salive, I can find him. "

"We've got to find him, " said Purdie, firmly. "In my opinion, he can givesome evidence that'll be of more importance than the mere identifying ofthose rings--never mind what it is I'm thinking of, now. We must see tothat 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 bearrested, any minute. He must be kept out of the way of the police for abit, 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, nohiding! 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'mgoing to take him to my hotel for the night--leave him to me! I'm going tosee this thing right through to the finish--however it ends. Now, let'sseparate. Mr. Guyler!"

"Sir?" answered the American. "At your service. "

"Then meet me at my hotel tomorrow morning at ten, " said Purdie. "There'sa new chapter to open. "

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE PARSLETT AFFAIR

At a quarter past ten o'clock on the morning following Ayscough'srevelation to Zillah, the detective was closeted with a man from theCriminal Investigation Department at New Scotland Yard in a private roomat the local police station, and with them was the superior official whohad been fetched to the pawnshop in Praed Street immediately after thediscovery of Daniel Multenius's body by Andie Lauriston. And this officialwas stating his view of the case to the two detectives--conscious thatneither agreed with him. 

"You can't get over the similarity of the markings of those rings!" hesaid 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!--hewent 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 onwith the work--all the rest of this business belongs to something else. "

Ayscough silently glanced at the man from New Scotland Yard--who shook hishead in a decided negative. 

"That's not my opinion!" he said with decision. "And it's not the opinionof the people at headquarters. We were at this affair nearly allyesterday afternoon with that little Jew fellow, Rubinstein, and the youngScotch gentleman, Mr. Purdie, and our conclusion is that there's somethingof a big sort behind old Multenius's death. There's a regular web ofmystery! The old man's death--that book, which Levendale did not leave inthe 'bus, in spite of all he says, and of his advertisements!--Levendale'sunexplained disappearance--the strange death of this man Parslett--themystery of those platinum studs dropped in the pawnbroker's parlour and inMrs. Goldmark's eating house--no!--the whole affair's a highly complicatedone. That's my view of it. "

"And mine, " said Ayscough. He looked at the unbelieving official, andturned away from him to glance out of the window into the street. "May Inever!" he suddenly exclaimed. "There's young Lauriston coming here, andPurdie with him--and a fellow who looks like an American. I should sayLauriston's got proof about his title to those rings--anyway, he seems tohave no fear about showing himself here--case of walking straight into thelions' 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 twocompanions. He and the detective from New Scotland Yard exchanged nods;they had seen a good deal of each other the previous day. He nodded alsoto the superior official--but the superior official looked at Lauriston. 

"Got that proof about those rings?" he enquired. "Of course, if youhave--"

"Before Mr. Lauriston says anything about that, " interrupted Purdie, "Iwant you to hear a story which this gentleman, Mr. Stuyvesant Guyler, ofNew York, can tell you. It's important--it bears right on this affair. Ifyou just listen to what he can tell--"

The two detectives listened to Guyler's story about the platinum studswith eager, if silent interest: in the end they glanced at each other andthen at the local official, who seemed to be going through a process ofbeing 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 couldidentify this man Purvis if you saw him?" he asked. 

"Why, certainly!" answered the American. "I guess if he's the man who wasseen in that eating-house the other day he's not altered any--or notmuch. "

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 motherlived. He has seen an old friend of theirs, Mrs. Taggart, who remembersthe rings perfectly. Moreover, she knows that they were given to the lateMrs. Lauriston by a Mr. Edward Killick, a London solicitor, who, ofcourse, will be able to identify them. As to the marks, I think you'llfind a trade explanation of that--those rings and the rings in Multenius'stray probably came from the same maker. Now, I find, on looking throughthe directory, that this Mr. Edward Killick has retired from practice, butI'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?" heasked. 

"Entirely!" answered the detective. 

"Got any instructions about Mr. Lauriston?" asked the official. "Youhaven't? Mr. Lauriston's free to go where he likes, then, as far as we'reconcerned, here, " he added, turning to Purdie. "But--he'd far better stayat 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. Nowwe're going to find Mr. Killick. "

He and Lauriston and Guyler walked out together; on the steps of thepolice-station Ayscough called him back. 

"I say!" he said, confidentially. "Leave that Mr. Killick business alonefor an hour or two. I can tell you of something much more interesting thanthat, 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 theremyself, 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 thiscourt. "

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 greatdifficulty that they contrived to squeeze themselves into a corner of it. In another corner, but far away from their own, Lauriston saw MelkyRubinstein; Melky, wedged in, and finding it impossible to move, made agrimace at Lauriston and jerked his thumb in the direction of the door, asa signal that he would meet him there when the proceedings were over. 

The inquest had already begun when Purdie and his companions forced theirway into the court. In the witness-box was the dead man's widow--apathetic figure in heavy mourning, who was telling the Coroner that on thenight of her husband's death he went out late in the evening--just to takea walk round, as he expressed it. No--she had no idea whatever of where hewas going, nor if he had any particular object in going out at all. He hadnot said one word to her about going out to get money from any one. Afterhe went out she never saw him again until she was fetched to St. Mary'sHospital, where she found him in the hands of the doctors. He died, without having regained consciousness, just after she reached thehospital. 

Nothing very startling so far, thought Purdie, at the end of the widow'sevidence, and he wondered why Ayscough had sent them round. But moreinterest 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 ifhe had been sitting down in his own office, to ring his bell and ask forthe day's letters. A whisper running round the court informed theonlookers that this was the gentleman who picked Parslett up in thestreet. 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 notknow 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 theCoroner. 

Mr. Gardiner leaned over the front of the witness-box, and took the courtand the public into his confidence--genially. 

"I was writing letters until pretty late that night, " he said. "A littleafter eleven o'clock I went out to post them at the nearest pillar-box. AsI went down the steps of my house, the deceased passed by. He was walkingdown Portsdown Road in the direction of Clifton Road. As he passed me, hewas chuckling--laughing in a low tone. I thought he was--well, a bitintoxicated 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 eightyards in front of me until we had come to within twenty yards or so of thecorner of Clifton Road. Then, all of a sudden--so suddenly that it'sdifficult for me to describe it!--he seemed to--well, there's no otherword for it than--collapse. He seemed to give, you understand--shrank up, like--like a concertina being suddenly shut up! His knees gave--his wholebody 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 aword or two, as he collapsed, " answered the witness. "But it was so suddenthat I couldn't catch anything definite. He certainly never made theslightest sound, except a queer sort of moaning, very low, from the timehe fell. Of course, I thought the man had fallen in a fit. I rushed tohim; he was lying, sort of crumpled up, where he had fallen. There was astreet-lamp close by--I saw that his face had turned a queer colour, andhis eyes were already closed--tightly. I noticed, too, that his teeth wereclenched, 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 thewitness. "I'm dead certain he never moved after he fell. There was nobodyabout, just then, and I was just going to ring the bell of the nearesthouse when a policeman came round the corner. I shouted to him--he cameup. 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, andimmediately ordered the man's removal to the hospital. The policeman gothelp, and the man was taken off. Dr. Mirandolet went with him. I returnedhome. "

No questions of any importance were asked of Mr. Gardiner, and theCoroner, after a short interchange of whispers with his officer, glancedat a group of professional-looking men behind the witness-box. 

"Call Dr. Mirandolet!" he directed. 

Purdie at that moment caught Ayscough's eye. And the detective winked athim significantly as a strange and curious figure came out from the crowdand stepped into the witness-box. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WHAT MANNER OF DEATH?

One of the three companions who stood curiously gazing at the new witnessas he came into full view of the court had seen him before. Lauriston, who, during his residence in Paddington, had wandered a good deal aboutMaida Vale and St. John's Wood, instantly recognized Dr. Mirandolet as aman whom he had often met or passed in those excursions and about whom hehad just as often wondered. He was a notable and somewhat queer figure--atall, spare man, of striking presence and distinctive personality--thesort of man who would inevitably attract attention wherever he was, and atwhom people would turn to look in the most crowded street. His aquilinefeatures, almost cadaverous complexion, and flashing, deep-set eyes, wereframed in a mass of raven-black hair which fell in masses over a looselyfitting, unstarched collar, kept in its place by a voluminous black silkcravat; his thin figure, all the sparer in appearance because of his broadshoulders and big head, was wrapped from head to foot in a mighty cloak, raven-black as his hair, from the neck of which depended a hood-like cape. Not a man in that court would have taken Dr. Mirandolet for anything but aforeigner, and for a foreigner who knew next to nothing of England and theEnglish, and John Purdie, whose interest was now thoroughly aroused, wassurprised as he heard the witness's answer to the necessary preliminaryquestions. 

Nicholas Mirandolet--British subject--born in Malta--educated in England--a licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons and of the Royal College ofPhysicians--in private practice at Portsdown Road, Maida Vale, for thelast ten years. 

"I believe you were called to the deceased by the last witness, Dr. Mirandolet?" asked the Coroner. "Just so! Will you tell us what youfound?"

"I found the deceased lying on the pavement, about a dozen yards from myhouse, " answered Dr. Mirandolet, in a sharp, staccato voice. "A policemanwas bending over him. Mr. Gardiner hurriedly told us what he had seen. Myfirst thought was that the man was in what is commonly termed a fit--someform of epileptic seizure, you know. I hastily examined him--and foundthat my first impression was utterly wrong. "

"What did you think--then?" enquired the Coroner. 

Dr. Mirandolet paused and began to drum the edge of the witness-box withthe tips of his long, slender white fingers. He pursed his clean-shavenlips and looked meditatively around him--leisurely surveying the facesturned on him. Finally he glanced at the Coroner, and snapped out a reply. 

"I do not know what I thought!"

The Coroner looked up from his notes--in surprise. 

"You--don't know what you thought?" he asked. 

"No!" said Dr. Mirandolet. "I don't. And I will tell you why. Because Irealized--more quickly than it takes me to tell it--that here wassomething that was utterly beyond my comprehension!"

"Do you mean--beyond your skill?" suggested the Coroner. 

"Skill?" retorted the witness, with a queer, twisting grimace. "Beyond myunderstanding! I am a quick observer--I saw within a few seconds that herewas a man who had literally been struck down in the very flush of life asif--well, to put it plainly, as if some extraordinary power had laid ablasting finger on the very life-centre within him. I was--dumfounded!"

The Coroner sat up and laid aside his pen. 

"What did you do?" he asked quietly. 

"Bade the policeman get help, and an ambulance, and hurry the man to St. Mary's Hospital, all as quickly as possible, " answered Dr. Mirandolet. "While the policeman was away, I examined the man more closely. He wasdying then--and I knew very well that nothing known to medical sciencecould save him. By that time he had become perfectly quiet; his body hadrelaxed into a normal position; his face, curiously coloured when I firstsaw it, had become placid and pale; he breathed regularly, though veryfaintly--and he was steadily dying. I knew quite well what was happening, and I remarked to Mr. Gardiner that the man would be dead within half-an-hour. "

"I believe you got him to the hospital within that time?" asked theCoroner. 

"Yes--within twenty-five minutes of my first seeing him, " said thewitness. "I went with the ambulance. The man died very soon afteradmission, just as I knew he would. No medical power on earth could havesaved him!"

The Coroner glanced at the little knot of professional men in the rear ofthe witness-box and seemed to be debating within himself as to whether hewanted to ask Dr. Mirandolet any more questions. Eventually he turnedagain to him. 

"What your evidence amounts to, Dr. Mirandolet, is this, " he said. "Youwere called to the man and you saw at once that you yourself could donothing for him, so you got him away to the hospital as quickly as youpossibly could. Just so!--now, why did you think you could do nothing forhim?"

"I will tell you--in plain words, " answered Dr. Mirandolet. "Because I didnot recognize or understand one single symptom that I saw! Because, frankly, I knew very well that I did not know what was the matter! And so--I hurried him to people who ought to know more than I do and arereputedly cleverer than I am. In short--I recognized that I was in thepresence of something--something!--utterly beyond my skill andcomprehension!"

"Let me ask you one or two further questions, " said the Coroner. "Have youformed any opinion of your own as to the cause of this man's death?"

"Yes!" agreed the witness, unhesitatingly. "I have! I believe him to havebeen poisoned--in a most subtle and cunning fashion. And"--here Dr. Mirandolet cast a side-glance at the knot of men behind him--"I shall beintensely surprised if that opinion is not corroborated. But--I shall beten thousand times more surprised if there is any expert in Europe who cansay what that poison was!"

"You think it was a secret poison?" suggested the Coroner. 

"Secret!" exclaimed Dr. Mirandolet. "Aye--secret is the word. Secret--yes!And--sure!"

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" asked the Coroner. 

"Only this, " replied the witness, after a pause. "It may be material. As Ibent over this man as he lay there on the pavement I detected a certaincurious aromatic odour about his clothes. It was strong at first; itgradually wore off. But I directed the attention of the policeman and Mr. Gardiner to it; it was still hanging about him, very faintly, when we gothim to the hospital: I drew attention to it there. "

"It evidently struck you--that curious odour?" said the Coroner. 

"Yes, " answered Dr. Mirandolet. "It did. It reminded me of the East--Ihave lived in the East--India, Burmah, China. It seemed to me that thisman had got hold of some Eastern scent, and possibly spilt some on hisclothes. The matter is worth noting. Because--I have heard--I cannot say Ihave known--of men being poisoned in inhalation. "

The Coroner made no remark--it was very evident from his manner that heconsidered Dr. Mirandolet's evidence somewhat mystifying. And Dr. Mirandolet stepped down--and in response to the official invitation Dr. John Sperling-Lawson walked into the vacated witness-box. 

"One of the greatest authorities on poisons living, " whispered Lauristonto Purdie, while Dr. Sperling-Lawson was taking the oath and answering theformal questions. "He's principal pathologist at that hospital they'retalking about, and he constantly figures in cases of this sort. He'semployed by the Home Office too--it was he who gave such importantevidence in that Barnsbury murder case not so long since--don't youremember it?"

Purdie did remember, and he looked at the famous expert with greatinterest. There was, however, nothing at all remarkable about Dr. Sperling-Lawson's appearance--he was a quiet, self-possessed, plain-facedgentleman who might have been a barrister or a banker for all that any onecould tell to the contrary. He gave his evidence in a matter-of-fact tone--strongly in contrast to Dr. Mirandolet's somewhat excited answers--butPurdie noticed that the people in court listened eagerly for every word. 

He happened to be at the hospital, said Dr. Sperling-Lawson, when the manParslett was brought in, and he saw him die. He fully agreed with Dr. Mirandolet that it was impossible to do anything to save the man's lifewhen he was brought to the hospital, and he was quite prepared to say thatthe impossibility had existed from the moment in which Gardiner had seenParslett collapse. In other words, when Parslett did collapse, death wason him. 

"And--the cause of death?" asked the Coroner. 

"Heart failure, " replied the witness. 

"Resulting from--what?" continued the Coroner. 

Dr. Sperling-Lawson hesitated a moment--amidst a deep silence. 

"I cannot answer that question, " he said at last. "I can only offer anopinion. I believe--in fact, I am sure!--the man was poisoned. I amconvinced he was poisoned. But I am forced to admit that I do not knowwhat poison was used, and that after a most careful search I have not yetbeen able to come across any trace or sign of any poison known to me. Allthe same, I am sure he died from the effects of poison, but what it was, or how administered, frankly, I do not know!"

"You made a post-mortem examination?" asked the Coroner. 

"Yes, " replied the specialist, "in company with Dr. Seracold. The deceasedwas a thoroughly healthy, well-nourished man. There was not a trace ofdisease in any of the organs--he was evidently a temperate man, and likelyto live to over the seventy years' period. And, as I have said, there wasnot a trace of poison. That is, not a trace of any poison known to me. "

"I want to ask you a particularly important question, " said the Coroner. "Are there poisons, the nature of which you are unacquainted with?"

"Yes!" answered the specialist frankly. "There are. But--I should notexpect to hear of their use in London. "

"Is there any European expert who might throw some light on this case?"asked the Coroner. 

"Yes, " said Dr. Sperling-Lawson. "One man--Professor Gagnard, of Paris. Asa matter of fact, I have already sent certain portions of certain organsto him--by a special messenger. If he cannot trace this poison, then noEuropean nor American specialist can. I am sure of this--the secret is anEastern one. "

"Gentlemen, " said the Coroner, "we will adjourn for a week. By that timethere may be a report from Paris. "

The crowd surged out into the damp November morning, eagerly discussingthe evidence just given. Purdie, Lauriston, and Guyler, all equallymystified, followed, already beginning to speculate and to theorize. Suddenly Melky Rubinstein hurried up to them, waving a note. 

"There was a fellow waiting outside with this from Zillah, " said Melky. "She'd heard you were all here, and she knew I was. We're to go there atonce--she's found some letters to her grandfather from that man Purvis!Come on!--it's another step forward!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MR. KILLICK GOES BACK

Ayscough and the man from New Scotland Yard came out of the court at thatmoment in close and serious conversation: Melky Rubinstein left the otherthree, and hurried to the two detectives with his news; together, the sixmen set off for Praed Street. And Purdie, who by this time was developingas much excited interest as his temperament and business habits permitted, buttonholed the Scotland Yard man and walked alongside him. 

"What's your professional opinion about what we've just heard in there?"he asked. "Between ourselves, of course. "

The detective, who had already had several long conversations with Purdieat headquarters during the previous afternoon and evening, and knew himfor a well-to-do young gentleman who was anxious to clear his friendLauriston of all suspicion, shook his head. He was a quiet, sagacious, middle-aged man who evidently thought deeply about whatever he had inhand. 

"It's difficult to say, Mr. Purdie, " he answered. "I've no doubt that whenwe get to the bottom of this case it'll turn out to be a very simple one--but the thing is to get to the bottom. The ways are complicated, sir--uncommonly so! At present we're in a maze--seeking the right path. "

"Do you think that this Parslett affair has anything to do with theMultenius affair?" asked Purdie. 

"Yes--undoubtedly!" answered the detective. "There's no doubt whatever inmy own mind that the man who poisoned Parslett is the man who caused theold pawnbroker's death--none! I figure it in this way. Parslett somehow, caught a glimpse of that man leaving Multenius's shop--by the side-door, no doubt--and knew him--knew him very well, mind you! When Parslett heardof what had happened in Multenius's back-parlour, he kept his knowledge tohimself, and went and blackmailed the man. The man gave him that fiftypounds in gold to keep his tongue quiet--no doubt arranging to give himmore, later on--and at the same time he cleverly poisoned him. That's mytheory, Mr. Purdie. "

"Then--the only question now is--who's the man?" suggested Purdie. 

"That's it, sir--who's the man?" agreed the detective. "One thing's quitecertain--if my theory's correct. He's a clever man--and an expert in theuse of poisons. "

Purdie walked on a minute or two in silence, thinking. 

"It's no use beating about the bush, " he said at last. "Do you suspect Mr. Levendale--after all you've collected in information--and after what Itold you about what his butler saw--that bottle and phial?"

"I think that Levendale's in it, " replied the detective, cautiously. "I'msure he's in it--in some fashion. Our people are making no end ofenquiries about him this morning, in various quarters--there's half-a-dozen of our best men at work in the City and the West End, Mr. Purdie. He's got to be found! So, too, has this man Stephen Purvis--whoever he is. We must find him, too. "

"Perhaps these letters that Melky Rubinstein speaks of may throw somelight on that, " said Purdie. "There must be some way of tracing him, somewhere. "

They were at the pawnshop by that time, and all six trooped in at theside-entrance. Old Daniel Multenius, unconscious of all the fuss andbother which his death had caused, was to be quietly interred thatafternoon, and Zillah and Melky were already in their mourning garments. But Zillah had lost none of her business habits and instincts, and whilethe faithful Mrs. Goldmark attended to the funeral guests in the upstairsregions, she herself was waiting in the back-parlour for these othervisitors. On the table before her, evidently placed there for inspection, lay three objects to which she at once drew attention--one, an old-fashioned, double-breasted fancy waistcoat, evidently of considerable age, and much worn, the others, two letters written on foreign notepaper. 

"It never occurred to me, " said Zillah, plunging into business at once, "at least, until an hour or two ago, to examine the clothes my grandfatherwas wearing at the time of his death. As a matter of fact he'd beenwearing the same clothes for months. I've been through all his pockets. There was nothing of importance--except these letters. I found those in apocket in the inside of that waistcoat--there! Read them. "

The men bent over the unfolded letters, and Ayscough read them aloud. 

"MACPHERSON'S HOTEL, CAPE TOWN, "_September 17th_, 1912. 

"Dear Sir, --I have sent the little article about which I have alreadywritten you and Mr. L. Fully, to your address by ordinary registered post. Better put it in your bank till I arrive--shall write you later about dateof my arrival. Faithfully yours, "Stephen Purvis. "

"That, " remarked Ayscough, glancing at the rest, "clearly refers towhatever it was that Mr. Multenius took from his bank on the morning ofhis death. It also refers to Mr. Levendale--without doubt. "

He drew the other letter to him and read it out. 

"CAPE TOWN, "_October 10th_, 1912. 

"Dear Sir, --Just a line to say I leave here by s. S. _Golconda_ in aday or two--this precedes me by today's mail. I hope to be in EnglandNovember 15th--due then, anyway--and shall call on you immediately onarrival. Better arrange to have Mr. S. L. To meet you and me at once. Faithfully, "Stephen Purvis. "

"November 15th?" remarked Ayscough. "Mr. Multenius died on November 19th. So--if Purvis did reach here on the 15th he'd probably been about thisquarter before the 19th. We know he was at Mrs. Goldmark's restaurant onthe 18th, anyway! All right, Miss Wildrose--we'll take these letters withus. "

Lauriston stopped behind when the rest of the men went out--to exchange afew words alone with Zillah. When he went into the street, all had goneexcept Purdie, who was talking with Melky at the entrance to the side-alley. 

"That's the sure tip at present, mister, " Melky was saying. "Get thatdone--clear that up. Mr. Lauriston, " he went on, "you do what your friendsays--we're sorting things out piece by piece. "

Purdie took Lauriston's arm and led him away. 

"What Melky says is--go and find out what Mr. Killick can prove, " he said. "Best thing to do, too, Andie, for us. Now that these detectives arefairly on the hunt, and are in possession of a whole multitude of queerdetails and facts, we'll just do our bit of business--which is to clearyou entirely. There's more reasons than one why we should do that, myman!"

"What're you talking about, John?" demanded Lauriston. "You've some ideain that head of yours!"

"The idea that you and that girl are in love with each other!" said Purdiewith a sly look. 

"I'll not deny that!" asserted Lauriston, with an ingenuous blush. "Weare!"

"Well, you can't ask any girl to marry you, man, while there's the leastbit of suspicion hanging over you that you'd a hand in her grandfather'sdeath!" remarked Purdie sapiently. "So we'll just eat a bit of lunchtogether, and then get a taxi-cab and drive out to find this old gentlemanthat gave your mother the rings. Come on to the hotel. "

"You're spending a fine lot of money over me, John!" exclaimed Lauriston. 

"Put it down that I'm a selfish chap that's got interested, and isfollowing his own pleasure!" said Purdie. "Man alive!--I was never mixedup in a detective case before--it beats hunting for animals, this huntingfor men!"

By a diligent search in directories and reference books early thatmorning, Purdie and Lauriston had managed to trace Mr. Edward Killick, who, having been at one time a well-known solicitor in the City, hadfollowed the practice of successful men and retired to enjoy the fruit ofhis labours in a nice little retreat in the country. Mr. Killick hadselected the delightful old-world village of Stanmore as the scene of hisretirement, and there, in a picturesque old house, set in the midst offine trees and carefully trimmed lawns, Purdie and Lauriston found him--ahale and hearty old gentleman, still on the right side of seventy, whorose from his easy chair in a well-stocked library to look in astonishmentfrom the two cards which his servant had carried to him at the persons andfaces of their presenters. 

"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "Are you two young fellows the sons ofold friends of mine at Peebles?"

"We are, sir, " answered Purdie. "This is Andrew Lauriston, and I am JohnPurdie. And we're very glad to find that you remember something about ourpeople, Mr. Killick. "

Mr. Killick again blessed himself, and after warmly shaking hands with hisvisitors, bade them sit down. He adjusted his spectacles, and looked bothyoung men carefully over. 

"I remember your people very well indeed!" he said. "I used to do a bit offishing in the Tweed and in Eddleston Water with your father, Mr. Purdie--and I stopped some time with your father and mother, at their house, Mr. Lauriston. In fact, your mother was remarkably kind to me--she nursed methrough an illness with which I was seized when I was in Peebles. "

Lauriston and Purdie exchanged glances--by common consent Purdie becamespokesman for the two. 

"Mr. Killick, " he said, "it's precisely about a matter arising out of thatillness of yours that we came to see you! Let me explain something first--Andie Lauriston here has been living in London for two years--he's aliterary gift, and he hopes to make a name, and perhaps a fortune. I'vesucceeded to my father's business, and I'm only here in London on a visit. And it's well I came, for Andie wanted a friend. Now, Mr. Killick, beforeI go further--have you read in the newspapers about what's called thePraed Street Mystery?"

The old gentleman shook his head. 

"My dear young sir!" he answered, waving his hand towards his books. "I'mnot a great newspaper reader--except for a bit of politics. I never readabout mysteries--I've wrapped myself up in antiquarian pursuits since Iretired. No!--I haven't read about the Praed Street Mystery--nor evenheard of it! I hope neither of you are mixed up in it?"

"Considerably!" answered Purdie. "In more ways than one. And you can be ofgreat help. Mr. Killick--when you left Peebles after your illness, yousent Mrs. Lauriston a present of two valuable rings. Do you remember?"

"Perfectly--of course!" replied the old gentleman. "To be sure!"

"Can you remember, too, from whom you bought those rings?" enquired Purdieeagerly. 

"Yes!--as if it were yesterday!" said Mr. Killick. "I bought them from aCity jeweller whom I knew very well at that time--a man named DanielMolteno!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MR. KILLICK'S OPINION

The old solicitor's trained eye and quick intelligence saw at once thatthis announcement immediately conveyed some significant meaning to his twoyoung visitors. Purdie and Lauriston, in fact, had immediately been struckby the similarity of the names Molteno and Multenius, and they exchangedanother look which their host detected and knew to convey a meaning. Heleaned forward in his chair. 

"Now, that strikes you--both!" he said. "What's all this about? Bettergive me your confidence. "

"That's precisely what we came here to do, sir, " responded Purdie, withalacrity. "And with your permission I'll tell you the whole story. It's along one, and a complicated one, Mr. Killick!--but I daresay you've heardmany intricate stories in the course of your legal experience, and you'llno doubt be able to see points in this that we haven't seen. Well, it'sthis way--and I'll begin at the beginning. "

The old gentleman sat in an attitude of patient and watchful attentionwhile Purdie, occasionally prompted and supplemented by Lauriston, toldthe whole story of the Praed Street affair, from Lauriston's first visitto the pawnshop up to the events of that morning. Once or twice he asked aquestion; one or twice he begged the narrator to pause while he considereda point: in the end he drew out his watch--after which he glanced out ofhis window. 

"Do I gather that the taxi-cab which I see outside there is being kept byyou two young men?" he asked. 

"It is, " answered Purdie. "It's important that we should lose no time ingetting back to town, Mr. Killick. "

"Just so!" agreed Mr. Killick, moving towards his library door. "But I'mgoing with you--as soon as I've got myself into an overcoat. Now!" headded, a few minutes later, when all three went out to the cab. "Tell theman to drive us straight to that police-station you've been visiting oflate--and till we get there, just let me think quietly--I can probably saymore about this case than I'm yet aware of. But--if it will give you anyrelief, I can tell you this at once--I have a good deal to tell. Strange!--strange indeed how things come round, and what a small world this is, after all!"

With this cryptic utterance Mr. Killick sank into a corner of the cab, where he remained, evidently lost in thought, until, nearly an hour later, they pulled up at the door of the police-station. Within five minutes theywere closeted with the chief men there--amongst whom were Ayscough and thedetective from New Scotland Yard. 

"You know me--or of me--some of you?" observed the old solicitor, as helaid a card on the desk by which he had been given a chair. "I was verywell known in the City police-courts, you know, until I retired threeyears ago. Now, these young gentlemen have just told me all the facts ofthis very strange case, and I think I can throw some light on it--on partof it, anyway. First of all, let me see those two rings about which therehas been so much enquiry. "

Ayscough produced the rings from a locked drawer; the rest of thosepresent looked on curiously as they were examined and handled by Mr. Killick. It was immediately evident that he had no doubt about hisrecognition and identification of them--after a moment's inspection ofeach he pushed them back towards the detective. 

"Certainly!" he said with a confidence that carried conviction. "Those arethe rings which I gave to Mrs. Lauriston, this young man's mother. I knewthem at once. If it's necessary, I can show you the receipt which I gotwith them from the seller. The particulars are specified in that receipt--and I know that I still have it. Does my testimony satisfy you?"

The chief official present glanced at the man from New Scotland Yard, andreceiving a nod from him, smiled at the old solicitor. 

"I think we can rely on your evidence, Mr. Killick, " he said. "We had tomake certain, you know. But these marks--isn't that a curious coincidence, now, when you come to think of it?"

"Not a bit of it!" replied Mr. Killick. "And I'll tell you why--that'sprecisely what I've come all the way from my own comfortable fireside atStanmore to do! There's no coincidence at all. I've heard the whole storyof this Praed Street affair now from these two lads. And I've no moredoubt than I have that I see you, that the old pawnbroker whom you knewhereabouts as Daniel Multenius was the same man Daniel Molteno--from whomI bought those rings, years ago! Not the slightest doubt!"

None of those present made any remark on this surprising announcement, andMr. Killick went on. 

"I was, as some of you may know, in practice in the City--in MoorgateStreet, as a matter of fact, " he said. "Daniel Molteno was a jeweller inHoundsditch. I occasionally acted for him--professionally. Andoccasionally when I wanted anything in the way of jewellery, I went to hisshop. He was then a man of about fifty, a tall, characteristically Hebraicsort of man, already patriarchal in appearance, though he hadn't a greyhair in his big black beard. He was an interesting man, profoundly learnedin the history of precious stones. I remember buying those rings from himvery well indeed--I remember, too, what I gave him for them--seventy-fivepounds for the two. Those private marks inside them are, of course, his--and so they're just the same as his private marks inside those other ringsin the tray. But that's not what I came here to tell you--that's merelypreliminary. "

"Deeply interesting, anyway, sir, " observed Ayscough. "And, maybe, veryvaluable. "

"Not half so valuable as what I'm going to tell you, " replied Mr. Killick, with a dry chuckle, "Now, as I understand it, from young Mr. Purdie'saccount, you're all greatly excited at present over the undoubtedconnection with this Praed Street mystery of one Mr. Spencer Levendale, who is, I believe, a very rich man, a resident in one of the best parts ofthis district, and a Member of Parliament. It would appear from all you'vediscovered, amongst you, up to now, that Spencer Levendale has beenprivately mixed up with old Daniel Multenius in some business which seemsto be connected with South Africa. Now, attend to what I say:--About thetime that I knew Daniel Molteno in Houndsditch, Daniel Molteno had apartner--a junior partner, whose name, however, didn't appear over theshop. He was a much younger man than Daniel--in fact, he was quite a youngman--I should say he was then about twenty-three or four--not more. He wasof medium height, dark, typically Jewish, large dark eyes, olive skin, good-looking, smart, full of go. And his name--the name I knew him by--wasSam Levin. " The other men in the room glanced at each other--and one ofthem softly murmured what all was thinking. 

"The same initials!"

"Just so!" agreed Mr. Killick. "That's what struck me--Sam Levin: SpencerLevendale. Very well!--I continue. One day I went to Daniel Molteno's shopto get something repaired, and it struck me that I hadn't seen Sam Levinthe last two or three times I had been in. 'Where's your partner?' I askedof Daniel Molteno. 'I haven't seen him lately. ' 'Partner no longer, Mr. Killick, ' said he. 'We've dissolved. He's gone to South Africa. ' 'What todo there?' I asked. 'Oh, ' answered Daniel Molteno, 'he's touched with thisfever to get at close quarters with the diamond fields! He's gone outthere to make a fortune, and come back a millionaire. ' 'Well!' I said. 'He's a likely candidate. ' 'Oh, yes!' said Daniel. 'He'll do well. ' Nomore was said--and, as far as I can remember, I never saw Daniel Moltenoagain. It was some time before I had occasion to go that way--when I did, I was surprised to see a new name over the shop. I went in and asked whereits former proprietor was. The new shopkeeper told me that Mr. Molteno hadsold his business to him. And he didn't know where Mr. Molteno had gone, or whether he'd retired from business altogether; he knew nothing--andevidently didn't care, either, so--that part of my memories comes to anend!"

"Mr. Spencer Levendale is a man of just under fifty, " remarked Ayscough, after a thoughtful pause, "and I should say that twenty-five years ago, he'd be just such a man as Mr. Killick has described. "

"You can take it from me--considering all that I've been told thisafternoon--" said the old solicitor, "that Spencer Levendale is Sam Levin--come back from South Africa, a millionaire. I'm convinced of it! And nowthen, gentlemen, what does all this mean? There's no doubt that oldMultenius and Levendale were secretly mixed up. What in? What's theextraordinary mystery about that book--left in Multenius's back parlourand advertised for immediately by Levendale as if it were simplyinvaluable? Why has Levendale utterly disappeared? And who is this manPurvis--and what's he to do with it? You've got the hardest nuts to crack--a whole basketful of 'em!--that ever I heard of. And I've had somelittle experience of crime!"

"I've had some information on Levendale and Purvis this very afternoon, "said Ayscough. He turned to the other officials. "I hadn't a chance oftelling you of it before, " he continued. "I was at Levendale's house atthree o'clock, making some further enquiries. I got two pieces of news. Tostart with--that bottle out of which Levendale filled a small phial, whichhe put in his waistcoat pocket when he went out for the last time--youremember, Mr. Purdie, that his butler told you of that incident--well, that bottle contains chloroform--I took a chemist there to examine it andsome other things. That's item one. The other's a bit of informationvolunteered by Levendale's chauffeur. The morning after Mr. Multenius'sdeath, and after you, Mr. Lauriston, Mr. Rubinstein, and myself called onLevendale, Levendale went off to the City in his car. He ordered thechauffeur to go through Hyde Park, by the Victoria Gate, and to stop bythe Powder Magazine. At the Powder Magazine he got out of the car andwalked down towards the bridge on the Serpentine. The chauffeur had him inview all the way, and saw him join a tall man, clean-shaven, much browned, who was evidently waiting for him. They remained in conversation, at theentrance to the bridge, some five minutes or so--then the stranger wentacross the bridge in the direction of Kensington, and Levendale returnedto his car. Now, in my opinion, that strange man was this Purvis we'veheard of. And that seems to have been the last time any one we've comeacross saw him. That night, after his visit to his house, and his takingthe phial of chloroform away with him, Levendale utterly disappeared, too--and yet sent a wire to his butler, from close by, next morning, sayinghe would be away for a few days! Why didn't he call with that messagehimself!"

Mr. Killick, who had listened to Ayscough with close attention, laughed, and turned to the officials with a sharp look. 

"Shall I give you people a bit of my opinion after hearing all this?" hesaid. "Very well, then--Levendale never did send that wire! It was sent inLevendale's name--to keep things quiet. I believe that Levendale's beentrapped--and Purvis with him!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND

His various listeners had heard all that the old solicitor had said, withevident interest and attention--now, one of them voiced what all the restwas thinking. 

"What makes you think that, Mr. Killick?" asked the man from New ScotlandYard. "Why should Levendale and Purvis have been trapped?"

Mr. Killick--who was obviously enjoying this return to the arena in which, as some of those present well knew, he had once played a distinguishedpart, as a solicitor with an extensive police-court practice--twistedround on his questioner with a sly, knowing glance. 

"You're a man of experience!" he answered. "Now come!--hasn't it struckyou that something went before the death of old Daniel Multenius--whetherthat death arose from premeditated murder, or from sudden assault? Eh?--hasn't it?"

"What, then?" asked the detective dubiously. "For I can't say that it has--definitely. What do you conjecture did go before that?"

Mr. Killick thumped his stout stick on the floor. 

"Robbery!" he exclaimed, triumphantly. "Robbery! The old man was robbed ofsomething! Probably--and there's nothing in these cases like consideringpossibilities--he caught the thief in the act of robbing him, and lost hislife in defending his property. Now, supposing Levendale and Purvis wereinterested--financially--in that property, and set their wits to work torecover it, and in their efforts got into the hands of--shall we suppose agang?--and got trapped? Or, " concluded Mr. Killick with great emphasis andmeaning, "for anything we know--murdered? What about that theory?"

"Possible!" muttered Ayscough. "Quite possible!"

"Consider this, " continued the old solicitor. "Levendale is a well-knownman--a Member of Parliament--a familiar figure in the City, where he'sdirector of more than one company--the sort of man whom, in ordinarycircumstances, you'd be able to trace in a few hours. Now, you tell methat half-a-dozen of your best men have been trying to track Levendale fortwo days and nights, and can't get a trace of him! What's the inference? Awell-known man can't disappear in that way unless for some very gravereason! For anything we know, Levendale--and Purvis with him--may besafely trapped within half-a-mile of Praed Street--or, as I say, they mayhave been quietly murdered. Of one thing I'm dead certain, anyway--if youwant to get at the bottom of this affair, you've got to find those twomen!"

"It would make a big difference if we had any idea of what it was thatDaniel Multenius had in that packet which he fetched from his bank on theday of the murder, " remarked Ayscough. "If there's been robbery, that mayhave been the thief's object. "

"That pre-supposes that the thief knew what was in the packet, " saidPurdie. "Who is there that could know? We may take it that Levendale andPurvis knew--but who else would?"

"Aye!--and how are we to find that out?" asked the New Scotland Yard man. "If I only knew that much--"

But even at that moment--and not from any coincidence, but from the law ofprobability to which Mr. Killick had appealed--information on that verypoint was close at hand. A constable tapped at the door, and entering, whispered a few words to the chief official, who having whispered back, turned to the rest as the man went out of the room. 

"Here's something likely!" he said. "There's a Mr. John Purvis, fromDevonshire, outside. Says he's the brother of the Stephen Purvis who'sname's been in the papers as having mysteriously disappeared, and wantsto tell the police something. He's coming in. "

The men in the room turned with undisguised interest as the door openedagain, and a big, fresh-coloured countryman, well wrapped up in a stouttravelling coat, stepped into the room and took a sharp glance at itsoccupants. He was evidently a well-to-do farmer, this, and quite at hisease--but there was a certain natural anxiety in his manner as he turnedto the official, who sat at the desk in the centre of the group. 

"You're aware of my business, sir?" he asked quietly. 

"I understand you're the brother of the Stephen Purvis we're wanting tofind in connection with this Praed Street mystery, " answered the official. "You've read of that in the newspaper, no doubt, Mr. Purvis? Take a seat--you want to tell us something? As a matter of fact, we're all discussingthe affair!"

The caller took the chair which Ayscough drew forward and sat down, throwing open his heavy overcoat, and revealing a whipcord riding-suit oflight fawn beneath it. 

"You'll see I came here in a hurry, gentlemen, " he said, with a smile. "I'd no thoughts of coming to London when I left my farm this morning, orI'd have put London clothes on! The fact is--I farm at a very out-of-the-way place between Moretonhampstead and Exeter, and I never see the dailypapers except when I drive into Exeter twice a week. Now when I got inthere this morning, I saw one or two London papers--last night's theywere--and read about this affair. And I read enough to know that I'd bestget here as quick as possible!--so I left all my business there and then, and caught the very next express to Paddington. And here I am! And now--have you heard anything of my brother Stephen more than what's in thepapers? I've seen today's, on the way up. "

"Nothing!" answered the chief official. "Nothing at all! We've purposelykept the newspapers informed, and what there is in the morning's papers isthe very latest. So--can you tell us anything?"

"I can tell you all I know myself, " replied John Purvis, with a solemnshake of his head. "And I should say it's a good deal to do with Stephen'sdisappearance--in which, of course, there's some foul play! My opinion, gentlemen, is that my brother's been murdered! That's about it!"

No one made any remark--but Mr. Killick uttered a little murmur ofcomprehension, and nodded his head two or three times. 

"Murdered, poor fellow, in my opinion, " continued John Purvis. "And I'lltell you why I think so. About November 8th or 9th--I can't be sure to aday--I got a telegram from Stephen, sent off from Las Palmas, in theCanary Islands, saying he'd be at Plymouth on the 15th, and asking me tomeet him there. So I went to Plymouth on the morning of the 15th. Hisboat, the _Golconda_, came in at night, and we went to an hoteltogether and stopped the night there. We hadn't met for some years, and ofcourse he'd a great deal to tell--but he'd one thing in particular--he'dstruck such a piece of luck as he'd never had in his life before!--and hehadn't been one of the unlucky ones, either!"

"What was this particular piece of luck?" asked Mr. Killick. 

John Purvis looked round as if to make sure of general attention. 

"He'd come into possession, through a fortunate bit of trading, up countryin South Africa, of one of the finest diamonds ever discovered!" heanswered. "I know nothing about such things, but he said it was an orange-yellow diamond that would weigh at least a hundred and twenty carats whencut, and was worth, as far as he could reckon, some eighty to ninetythousand pounds. Anyway, that was what he'd calculated he was going to getfor it here in London--and what he wanted to see me about, in addition totelling me of his luck, was that he wanted to buy a real nice bit ofproperty in Devonshire, and settle down in the old country. But--I'mafraid his luck's turned to a poor end! Gentlemen!--I'm certain mybrother's been murdered for that diamond!"

The police officials, as with one consent, glanced at Mr. Killick, and bytheir looks seemed to invite his assistance. The old gentleman nodded andturned to the caller. 

"Now, Mr. Purvis, " he said, "just let me ask you a few questions. Did yourbrother tell you that this diamond was his own, sole property?"

"He did, sir!" answered the farmer. "He said it was all his own. "

"Did he tell you where it was--what he had done with it?"

"Yes! He said that for some years he'd traded in small parcels of suchthings with two men here in London--Multenius and Levendale--he knew bothof them. He'd sent the diamond on in advance to Multenius, by ordinaryregistered post, rather than run the risk of carrying it himself. "

"I gather from that last remark that your brother had let some otherperson or persons know that he possessed this stone?" said Mr. Killick. "Did he mention that? It's of importance. "

"He mentioned no names--but he did say that one or two knew of his luck, and he'd an idea that he'd been watched in Cape Town, and followed on the_Golconda_, " replied John Purvis. "He laughed about that, and said hewasn't such a fool as to carry a thing like that on him. "

"Did he say if he knew for a fact that the diamond was delivered toMultenius?" asked Mr. Killick. 

"Yes, he did. He found a telegram from Multenius at Las Palmas, acknowledging the receipt. He mentioned to me that Multenius would put thediamond in his bank, till he got to London himself. "

Mr. Killick glanced at the detective--the detectives nodded. 

"Very good, " continued Mr. Killick. "Now then--: you'd doubtless talk agood deal about this matter--did your brother tell you what was to be donewith the diamond? Had he a purchaser in view?"

"Yes, he said something about that, " replied John Purvis. "He said thatMultenius and Levendale would make--or were making--what he called asyndicate to buy it from him. They'd have it cut--over in Amsterdam, Ithink it was. He reckoned he'd get quite eighty thousand from thesyndicate. "

"He didn't mention any other names than those of Multenius and Levendale?"

"No--none!"

"Now, one more question. Where did your brother leave you--at Plymouth?"

"First thing next morning, " said John Purvis. "We travelled together asfar as Exeter. He came on to Paddington--I went home to my farm. And I'venever heard of him since--till I read all this in the papers. "

Mr. Killick got up and began to button his overcoat. He turned to thepolice. 

"Now you know what we wanted to know!" he said. "That diamond is at thebottom of everything! Daniel Multenius was throttled for that diamond--Parslett's death arose out of that diamond--everything's arisen from thatdiamond! And, now that you police folks know all this--you know what todo. You want the man, or men, who were in Daniel Multenius's shop aboutfive o'clock on that particular day, and who carried off that diamond. Mr. Purvis!--are you staying in town?"

The farmer shook his head--but not in the negative. 

"I'm not going out of London, till I know what's become of my brother!" hesaid. 

"Then come with me, " said Mr. Killick. He said a word or two to thepolice, and then, beckoning Lauriston and Purdie to follow with Purvis, led the way out into the street. There he drew Purdie towards him. "Get ataxi-cab, " he whispered, "and we'll all go to see that American man you'vetold me of--Guyler. And when we've seen him, you can take me to see DanielMultenius's granddaughter. "

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE DEAD MAN'S PROPERTY

Old Daniel Multenius had been quietly laid to rest that afternoon, and atthe very moment in which Mr. Killick and his companions were driving awayfrom the police station to seek Stuyvesant Guyler at his hotel, Mr. Penniket was closeted with Zillah and her cousin Melky Rubinstein in theback-parlour of the shop in Praed Street--behind closed and locked doorswhich they had no intention of opening to anybody. Now that the old manwas dead and buried, it was necessary to know how things stood withrespect to his will and his property, and, as Mr. Penniket had remarked asthey drove back from the cemetery, there was no reason why they should notgo into matters there and then. Zillah and Melky were the only relations--and the only people concerned, said Mr. Penniket. Five minutes would putthem in possession of the really pertinent facts as regards the provisionsof the will--but there would be details to go into. And now they were allthree sitting round the table, and Mr. Penniket had drawn two papers fromhis inner pocket--and Zillah regarding him almost listlessly, and Melkywith one of his quietly solemn expression. Each had a pretty good idea ofwhat was coming and each regarded the present occasion as no more than aformality. 

"This is the will, " said Mr. Penniket, selecting and unfolding one of thedocuments. "It was made about a year ago--by me. That is, I drafted it. It's a short, a very short and practical will, drafted from preciseinstructions given to me by my late client, your grandfather. I may aswell tell you in a few words what it amounts to. Everything that he leftis to be sold--this business as a going concern; all his shares; all hishouse property. The whole estate is to be realized by the executors--yourtwo selves. And when that's done, you're to divide the lot--equally. Onehalf is yours, Miss Wildrose; Mr. Rubinstein, the other half is yours. And, " concluded Mr. Penniket, rubbing his hands, "you'll find you're veryfortunate--not to say wealthy--young people, and I congratulate you onyour good fortune! Now, perhaps, you'd like to read the will?"

Mr. Penniket laid the will on the table before the two cousins, and theybent forward and read its legal phraseology. Zillah was the first to lookup and to speak. 

"I never knew my grandfather had any house property, " she said. "Did you, Melky?"

"S'elp me, Zillah, if I ever knew what he had in that way!" answeredMelky. "He had his secrets and he could be close. No--I never knew of hishaving anything but his business. But then, I might have known that he'dinvest his profits in some way or other. "

The solicitor unfolded the other document. 

"Here's a schedule, prepared by Mr. Multenius himself, and handed by himto me not many weeks ago, of his property outside this business, " heremarked. "I'll go through the items. Shares in the Great Western Railway. Shares in the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway. Government Stock. Certain American Railway Stock. It's all particularized--and all gilt-edged security. Now then, about his house property. There's a block offlats at Hampstead. There are six houses at Highgate. There are threevillas in the Finchley Road. The rents of all these have been collected byMessrs. Holder and Keeper, estate agents, and evidently paid by themdirect to your esteemed relative's account at his bank. And then--to windup--there is a small villa in Maida Vale, which he let furnished--younever heard of that?"

"Never!" exclaimed Zillah, while Melky shook his head. 

"There's a special note about that at the end of this schedule, " said Mr. Penniket. "In his own hand--like all the rest. This is what he says. 'N. B. Molteno Lodge, Maida Vale--all the furniture, pictures, belongings inthis are mine--I have let it as a furnished residence at £12 a month, allclear, for some years past. Let at present, on same terms, rent paidquarterly, in advance, to two Chinese gentlemen, Mr. Chang Li and Mr. ChenLi--good tenants. "

Zillah uttered another sharp exclamation and sprang to her feet. Shewalked across to an old-fashioned standup desk which stood in a corner ofthe parlour, drew a bunch of keys from her pocket, and raised the lid. 

"That explains something!" she said. "I looked into this desk the otherday--grandfather used to throw letters and papers in there sometimes, during the day, and then put them away at night. Here's a cheque here thatpuzzled me--I don't know anything about it. But--it'll be a quarter's rentfor that house. Look at the signatures!"

She laid a cheque before Melky and Mr. Penniket and stood by while theylooked at it. There was nothing remarkable about the cheque--made out toMr. Daniel Multenius on order for £36--except the two odd looking names atits foot--_Chang Li: Chen Li_. Otherwise, it was just like all othercheques--and it was on a local bank, in Edgware Road, and duly crossed. But Melky instantly observed the date, and put one of his long fingers toit. 

"November 18th, " he remarked. "The day he died. Did you notice that, Zillah?"

"Yes, " answered Zillah. "It must have come in by post and he's thrown it, as he often did throw things, into that desk. Well--that's explained!That'll be the quarter's rent, then, for this furnished house, Mr. Penniket?"

"Evidently!" agreed the solicitor. "Of course, there's no need to givenotice to these two foreigners--yet. It'll take a little time to settlethe estate, and you can let them stay on awhile. I know who they are--yourgrandfather mentioned them--two medical students, of University College. They're all right. Well, now, that completes the schedule. As regardsadministering the estate--"

A sudden gentle but firm knock at the side-door brought Zillah to her feetagain. 

"I know that knock, " she remarked. "It's Ayscough, the detective. Isuppose he may come in, now?"

A moment later Ayscough, looking very grave and full of news, had joinedthe circle round the table. He shook his head as he glanced at Mr. Penniket. 

"I came on here to give you a bit of information, " he said. "There's beenan important development this afternoon. You know the name of this StephenPurvis that's been mentioned as having been about here? Well, thisafternoon his brother turned up from Devonshire. He wanted to see us--totell us something. He thinks Stephen's been murdered!"

"On what grounds?" asked the solicitor. 

"It turns out Stephen had sent Mr. Multenius a rare fine diamond--uncut--from South Africa, " answered Ayscough. "Worth every penny of eightythousand pounds!"

He was closely watching Zillah and Melky as he gave this piece of news, and he was quick to see their utter astonishment. Zillah turned to thesolicitor; Melky slapped the table. 

"That's been what the old man fetched from his bank that day!" heexclaimed. "S'elp me if I ain't beginning to see light! Robbery--beforemurder!"

"That's about it, " agreed Ayscough. "But I'll tell you all that's comeout. "

He went on to narrate the events of the afternoon, from the arrival of Mr. Killick and his companions at the police station to the coming of JohnPurvis, and his three listeners drank in every word with rising interest. Mr. Penniket became graver and graver. 

"Where's Mr. Killick now--and the rest of them?" he asked in the end. 

"Gone to find that American chap--Guyler, " answered Ayscough. "They didthink he might be likely--having experience of these South Africanmatters--to know something how Stephen Purvis may have been followed. Yousee--you're bound to have some theory! It looks as if Stephen Purvis hadbeen tracked--for the sake of that diamond. The thieves probably trackedit to this shop--most likely attacked Mr. Multenius for it. They'd mostlikely been in here just before young Lauriston came in. "

"But where does Stephen Purvis come in--then?" asked Mr. Penniket. 

"Can't say yet--, " replied Ayscough, doubtfully. "But--it may be that he--and Levendale--got an idea who the thieves were, and went off after them, and have got--well, trapped, or, as John Purvis suggests, murdered. It'sgetting a nicer tangle than ever!"

"What's going to be done?" enquired the solicitor. 

"Why!" said Ayscough. "At present, there's little more to be done thanwhat is being done! There's no end of publicity in the newspapers aboutboth Levendale and Purvis. Every newspaper reporter in London's on thestretch for a thread of news of 'em! And we're getting posters and billsout, all over, advertising for them--those bills'll be outside everypolice-station in London--and over a good part of England--by tomorrownoon. And, of course, we're all at work. But you see, we haven't so far, the slightest clue as to the thieves! For there's no doubt, now, that itwas theft first, and the rest afterwards. "

Mr. Penniket rose and gathered his papers together. 

"I suppose, " he remarked, "that neither of you ever heard of this diamond, nor of Mr. Multenius having charge of it? No--just so. An atmosphere ofsecrecy all over the transaction. Well--all I can say, Ayscough, is this--you find Levendale. He's the man who knows. "

When the solicitor had gone, Ayscough turned to Zillah. 

"You never saw anything of any small box, packet, or anything of thatsort, lying about after your grandfather's death?" he asked. "I'm thinkingof what that diamond had been enclosed in, when he brought it from thebank. My notion is that he was examining that diamond when he wasattacked, and in that case the box he'd taken it from would be lyingabout, or thrown aside. "

"You were in here yourself, before me, " said Zillah. 

"Quite so--but I never noticed anything, " remarked Ayscough. 

"Neither have I, " replied Zillah. "And don't you think that whoever seizedthat diamond would have the sense to snatch up anything connected with it!I believe in what Mr. Penniket said just now--you find Levendale. Ifthere's a man living who knows who killed my grandfather, Levendale's thatman. You get him. "

Mrs. Goldmark came in just then, to resume her task of keeping Zillahcompany, and the detective left. Melky snatched up his overcoat andfollowed him out, and in the side-passage laid a hand on his arm. 

"Look here, Mr. Ayscough!" he whispered confidentially. "I want you!There's something turned up in there, just now, that I ain't said a wordabout to either Penniket or my cousin--but I will to you. Do you knowwhat, Mr. Ayscough--listen here;"--and he went on to tell the detectivethe story of the furnished house in Maida Vale, its Chinese occupants, andtheir cheque. "Dated that very day the old man was scragged!" exclaimedMelky. "Now, Mr. Ayscough, supposing that one o' those Chinks called herewith that cheque that afternoon when Zillah was out, and found the old manalone, and that diamond in his hand--eh?"

Ayscough started and gave a low, sharp whistle. 

"Whew!" he said. "By George, that's an idea! Where's this house, do yousay? Molteno Lodge, Maida Vale? I know it--small detached house in agarden. I say!--let's go and take a look round there!"

"It's what I was going to propose--and at once, " responded Melky. "Comeon--but on the way, we'll pay a bit of a call. I want to ask a question ofDr. Mirandolet. "

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE RAT

Ayscough and Melky kept silence, until they had exchanged the busy streetsfor the quieter by-roads which lie behind the Paddington Canal--then, asthey turned up Portsdown Road, the detective tapped his companion's arm. 

"What do you know about these two Chinese chaps that have this furnishedhouse of yours?" he asked. "Much?--or little?"

"We don't know nothing at all, Mr. Ayscough--me and my cousin Zillah, "replied Melky. "Never heard of 'em! Never knew they were there! Never knewthe old man had furnished house to let in Maida Vale! He was close, theold man was, about some things. That was one of 'em. However, Mr. Penniket, he knew of this--but only recently. He says they're all right--medical students at one of the hospitals--yes, University College. That'sin Gower Street, ain't it? The old man--he put in a note about there hereMolteno Lodge that these Chinks were good tenants. I know what he'd meanby that!--paid their rent regular, in advance. "

"Oh, I know they've always plenty of money, these chaps!" observedAyscough. "I've been wondering if I'd ever seen these two. But Lor' blessyou!--there's such a lot o' foreigners in this quarter, especiallyJapanese and Siamese--law students and medical students and such like--that you'd never notice a couple of Easterns particularly--and I've nodoubt they wear English clothes. Now, what do you want to see this doctorfor?" he asked as they halted by Dr. Mirandolet's door. "Anything to dowith the matter in hand?"

"You'll see in a minute, " replied Melky as he rang the bell. "Just anotion that occurred to me. And it has got to do with it. "

Dr. Mirandolet was in, and received his visitors in a room which was half-surgery and half-laboratory, and filled to the last corner with theevidences and implements of his profession. He was wearing a white linenoperating jacket, and his dark face and black hair looked all the darkerand blacker because of it. Melky gazed at him with some awe as he droppedinto the chair which Mirandolet indicated and found the doctor's piercingeyes on him. 

"Just a question or two, mister!" he said, apologetically. "Me and Mr. Ayscough there is doing a bit of looking into this mystery about Mr. Multenius, and knowing as you was a big man in your way, it struck meyou'd tell me something. I was at that inquest on Parslett, you know, mister. "

Mirandolet nodded and waited, and Melky gained courage. 

"Mister!" he said, suddenly bending forward and tapping the doctor's kneein a confidential fashion. "I hear you say at that inquest as how you'dlived in the East?"

"Yes!" replied Mirandolet. "Many years. India--Burmah--China!"

"You know these Easterns, mister, and their little way?" suggested Melky. "Now, would it be too much--I don't want to get no professionalinformation, you know, if it ain't etiquette!--but would it be too much toask you if them folks is pretty good hands at poisoning?"

Mirandolet laughed, showing a set of very white teeth, and glared atAyscough with a suggestion of invitation to join in his amusement. Heclapped Melky on the shoulder as if he had said something diverting. 

"Good hands, my young friend?" he exclaimed. "The very best in the world!Past masters! Adepts. Poison you while they look at you!"

"Bit cunning and artful about it, mister?" suggested Melky. 

"Beyond your conception, my friend, " replied Mirandolet. "Unless I verymuch mistake your physiognomy, you yourself come of an ancient race whichis not without cunning and artifice--but in such matters as you refer to, you are children, compared to your Far East folk. "

"Just so, mister--I believe you!" said Melky, solemnly. "And--which of'em, now, do you consider the cleverest of the lot--them as you say you'velived amongst, now? You mentioned three lots of 'em, you know--Indians, Burmese, Chinese. Which would you consider the artfullest of them three--if it came to a bit of real underhand work, now?"

"For the sort of thing you're thinking of, my friend, " answeredMirandolet, "you can't beat a Chinaman. Does that satisfy you?"

Melky rose and glanced at the detective before turning to the doctor. 

"Mister, " he said, "that's precisely what I should ha' said myself. Only--I wanted to know what a big man like you thought. Now, I know! Muchobliged to you, mister. If there's ever anything I can do for you, doctor--if you want a bit of real good stuff--jewellery, you know--at dead costprice--"

Mirandolet laughed and clapping Melky's shoulder again, looked atAyscough. 

"What's our young friend after?" he asked, good-humouredly. "What's hisgame?"

"Hanged if I know, doctor!" said Ayscough, shaking his head. "He's gotsome notion in his head. Are you satisfied, Mr. Rubinstein?"

Melky was making for the door. 

"Ain't I just said so?" he answered. "You come along of me, Mr. Ayscough, and let's be getting about our business. Now, look here!" he said, takingthe detective's arm when they had left the house. "We're going to take alook at them Chinks. I've got it into my head that they've something to dowith this affair--and I'm going to see 'em, and to ask 'em a question ortwo. And--you're coming with me!"

"I say, you know!" remarked Ayscough. "They're respectable gentlemen--evenif they are foreigners. Better be careful--we don't know anything against'em. "

"Never you fear!" said Melky. "I'll beat 'em all right. Ain't I got a goodexcuse, Mr. Ayscough? Just to ask a civil question. Begging their pardonsfor intrusion, but since the lamented death of Mr. Daniel Multenius, meand Miss Zillah Wildrose has come into his bit of property, and does thetwo gentlemen desire to continue their tenancy, and is there anything wecan do to make 'em comfortable--see? Oh, I'll talk to 'em all right!"

"What're you getting at, all the same?" asked the detective. "Give it atitle!"

Melky squeezed his companion's arm. 

"I want to see 'em, " he whispered. "That's one thing. And I want to findout how that last cheque of theirs got into our back-parlour! Was it sentby post--or was it delivered by hand? And if by hand--who delivered it?"

"You're a cute 'un, you are!" observed Ayscough. "You'd better join us. "

"Thank you, Mr. Ayscough, but events has happened which'll keep me busy atsomething else, " said Melky, cheerfully. "Do you know that my good oldrelative has divided everything between me and my cousin?--I'm a rich man, now, Mr. Ayscough. S'elp me!--I don't know how rich I am. It'll take a bito' reckoning. "

"Good luck to you!" exclaimed the detective heartily. "Glad to hear it!Then I reckon you and your cousin'll be making a match of it--keeping themoney in the family, what?"

Melky laid his finger on the side of his nose. 

"Then you think wrong!" he said. "There'll be marriages before long--forboth of us--but it'll not be as you suggest! There's Molteno Lodge, acrossthe road there--s'elp me, I've often seen that bit of a retreat from thetop of a 'bus, but I never knew it belonged to the poor old man!"

They had now come to the lower part of Maida Vale, where many detachedhouses stand in walled-in gardens, isolated and detached from each other--Melky pointed to one of the smaller ones--a stucco villa, whose whitewalls shone in the November moonlight. Its garden, surrounded by highwalls, was somewhat larger than those of the neighbouring houses, and wasfilled with elms rising to a considerable height and with tall bushesgrowing beneath them. 

"Nice, truly rural sort of spot, " said Melky, as they crossed the road andapproached the gate in the wall. "And--once inside--uncommon private, nodoubt! What do you say, Mr. Ayscough?"

The detective was examining the gate. It was a curious sort of gate, setbetween two stout pillars, and fashioned of wrought ironwork, the meshesof which were closely intertwined. Ayscough peered through the upper partand saw a trim lawn, a bit of statuary, a garden seat, and all the rest ofthe appurtenances common to a London garden whose owners wish to remindthemselves of rusticity--also, he saw no signs of life in the house at theend of the garden. 

"There's no light in this house, " he remarked, trying the gate. "Looks tome as if everybody was out. Are you going to ring?"

Melky pointed along the front of the wall. 

"There's a sort of alley going up there, between this house and the next, "he said. "Come round--sure to be a tradesman's entrance--a side-door--upthere. "

"Plenty of spikes and glass-bottle stuff on those walls, anyhow!" remarkedAyscough, as they went round a narrow alley to the rear of the villa. "Your grandfather evidently didn't intend anybody to get into thesepremises very easily, Mr. Rubinstein. Six-foot walls and what you mightcall regular fortifications on top of 'em! What are you going to do, now?"

Melky had entered a recess in the side-wall and was examining a stout dooron which, plainly seen in the moonlight, were the words _Tradesman'sEntrance_. He turned the handle--and uttered an exclamation. 

"Open!" he said. "Come on, Mr. Ayscough--we're a-going in! If there isanybody at home, all right--if there ain't, well, still all right. I'mgoing to have a look round. "

The detective followed Melky into a paved yard at the back of the villa. All was very still there--and the windows were dark. 

"No lights, back or front, " remarked Ayscough. "Can't be anybody in. And Isay--if either of those Chinese gents was to let himself in with his keyat the front gate and find us prowling about, it wouldn't look very well, would it, now? Why not call again--in broad daylight?"

"Shucks!" said Melky. "Ain't I one o' the landlords of this desirable bito' property? And didn't we find that door open? Come round to the front. "

He set off along a gravelled path which ran round the side of the house, and ascended the steps to the porticoed front door. And there he rang thebell--and he and his companion heard its loud ringing inside the house. But no answer came--and the whole place seemed darker and stiller thanbefore. 

"Of course there's nobody in!" muttered Ayscough. "Come on--let's get outof it. "

Melky made no answer. He walked down the steps, and across the lawnbeneath the iron-work gate in the street wall. A thick shrubbery of hollyand laurel bushes stood on his right--and as he passed it something dartedout--something alive and alert and sinuous--and went scudding away acrossthe lawn. 

"Good Lord!" said Ayscough. "A rat! And as big as a rabbit!"

Melky paused, looked after the rat, and then at the place from which ithad emerged. And suddenly he stepped towards the shrubbery and drew asidethe thick cluster of laurel branches. Just as suddenly he started back onthe detective, and his face went white in the moonbeams. 

"Mr. Ayscough!" he gasped. "S'elp me!--there's a dead man here! Look foryourself!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE EMPTY HOUSE

Ayscough had manifested a certain restiveness and dislike to theproceedings ever since his companion had induced him to enter the backdoor of Molteno Lodge--these doings appeared to him informal andirregular. But at Melky's sudden exclamation his professional instinctswere aroused, and he started forward, staring through the opening in thebushes made by Melky's fingers. 

"Good Lord!" he said. "You're right. One of the Chinamen!"

The full moon was high in a cloudless sky by that time, and its rays fellfull on a yellow face--and on a dark gash that showed itself in the yellowneck below. Whoever this man was, he had been killed by a savageknifethrust that had gone straight and unerringly through the jugularvein. Ayscough pointed to a dark wide stain which showed on the earth atthe foot of the bushes. 

"Stabbed!" he muttered. "Stabbed to death! And dragged in here--look atthat--and that!"

He turned, pointing to more stains on the gravelled path behind them--stains which extended, at intervals, almost to the entrance door in theouter wall. And then he drew a box of matches from his pocket, andstriking one, went closer and held the light down to the dead man's face. Melky, edging closer to his elbow, looked, too. 

"One of those Chinamen, without a doubt!" said Ayscough, as the matchflickered and died out. "Or, at any rate, a Chinaman. And--he's been deadsome days! Well!--this is a go!"

"What's to be done?" asked Melky. "It's murder!"

Ayscough looked around him. He was wondering how it was that a dead mancould lie in that garden, close to a busy thoroughfare, along which aregular stream of traffic of all descriptions was constantly passing, forseveral days, undetected. But a quick inspection of the surroundingsexplained matters. The house itself filled up one end of the garden; theother three sides were obscured from the adjacent houses and from thestreet by high walls, high trees, thick bushes. The front gate was lockedor latched--no one had entered--no one, save the owner of the knife thathad dealt that blow, had known a murdered man lay there behind thelaurels. Only the rat, started by Melky's footsteps, had known. 

"Stay here!" said Ayscough. "Well--inside the gate, then--don't come out--I don't want to attract attention. There'll be a constable somewhereabout. "

He walked down to the iron-work gate, Melky following close at his heels, found and unfastened the patent latch, and slipped out into the road. Intwo minutes he was back again with a policeman. He motioned the man insideand once more fastened the door. 

"As you know this beat, " he said quietly, as if continuing a conversationalready begun, "you'll know the two Chinese gentlemen who have thishouse?"

"Seen 'em--yes, " replied the policeman. "Two quiet little fellows--seen'em often--generally of an evening. "

"Have you seen anything of them lately?" asked Ayscough. 

"Well, now I come to think of it, no, I haven't, " answered the policeman. "Not for some days. "

"Have you noticed that the house was shut up--that there were no lights inthe front windows?" enquired the detective. 

"Why, as a matter of fact, Mr. Ayscough, " said the policeman, "you neverdo see any lights here--the windows are shuttered. I know that, because Iused to give a look round when the house was empty. "

"Do you know what servants they kept--these two?" asked Ayscough. 

"They kept none!" answered the policeman. "Seems to me--from what bit Isaw, you know--they used the house for little more than sleeping in. I'veseen 'em go out of a morning, with books and papers under their arms, andcome home at night--similar. But there's no servants there. Anythingwrong, Mr. Ayscough?"

Ayscough moved toward the bushes. 

"There's this much wrong, " he answered. "There's one of 'em lying deadbehind those laurels with a knife-thrust through his throat! And I shouldsay, from the look of things, that he's been lying there several days. Look here!"

The policeman looked--and beyond a sharp exclamation, remained stolid. Heglanced at his companions, glanced round the garden--and suddenly pointedto a dark patch on the ground. 

"There's blood there!" he said. "Blood!"

"Blood!" exclaimed Ayscough. "There's blood all the way down this path!The man's been stabbed as he came in at that door, and his body was thendragged up the path and thrust in here. Now then!--off you go to thestation, and tell 'em what we've found. Get help--he'll have to be takento the mortuary. And you'll want men to keep a watch on this house--tellthe inspector all about it and say I'm here. And here--leave me that lampof yours. "

The policeman took off his bull's eye lantern and handed it over. Ayscoughlet him out of the door, and going back to Melky, beckoned him towards thehouse. 

"Let's see if there's any way of getting in here, " he said. "Myconscience, Mr. Rubinstein!--you must have had some instinct about cominghere tonight! We've hit on something--but Lord bless me if I know what itis!"

"Mr. Ayscough!" said Melky. "I hadn't a notion of aught like that--it'sgive me a turn! But don't I know what it means, Mr. Ayscough--not half!It's all of a piece with the rest of it! Murder, Mr. Ayscough--bloodymurder! All on account of that orange-yellow diamond we've heard of--atlast. Ah!--if I'd known there was that at the bottom of this affair, I'dha' been a bit sharper in coming to conclusions, I would so! Diamond wortheighty thousand pounds--. "

Ayscough, who had been busy at the front door of the house, suddenlyinterrupted his companion's reflections. 

"The door's open!" he exclaimed. "Open! Not even on the latch. Come on!"

Melky shrank back at the prospect of the unlighted hall. There was ahorror in the garden, in that bright moonlight--what might there not be inthat black, silent house?

"Well, turn that there bull's eye on!" he said. "I don't half fancy thissort of exploration. We'd ought to have had revolvers, you know. "

Ayscough turned on the light and advanced into the hall. There was nothingthere beyond what one would expect to see in the hall of a well-furnishedhouse, nor was there anything but good furniture, soft carpets, and oldpictures to look at in the first room into which he and Melky glanced. Butin the room behind there were evidences of recent occupation--a supper-table was laid: there was food on it, a cold fowl, a tongue--one plate hadportions of both these viands laid on it, with a knife and fork crossedabove them; on another plate close by, a slice of bread lay, broken andcrumbled--all the evidences showed that supper had been laid for two, thatonly one had sat down to it: that he had been interrupted at the verybeginning of his meal--a glass half-full of a light French wine stood nearthe pushed-aside plate. 

"Looks as if one of 'em had been having a meal, had had to leave it, andhad never come back to it, " remarked Ayscough. "Him outside, no doubt. Let's see the other rooms. "

There was nothing to see beyond what they would have expected to see--except that in one of the bedrooms, in a drawer pulled out from adressing-table and left open, lay a quantity of silver and copper, withhere and there a gold coin shining amongst it. Ayscough made a significantmotion of his head at the sight. 

"Another proof of--hurry!" he said. "Somebody's cleared out of this placeabout as quick as he could! Money left lying about--unfinished meal--dooropen--all sure indications. Well, we've seen enough for the present. Ourpeople'll make a thorough search later. Come downstairs again. "

Neither Ayscough nor Melky were greatly inclined for conversation orspeculation, and they waited in silence near the gate, both thinking ofthe still figure lying behind the laurel bushes until the police came. Then followed whispered consultations between Ayscough and the inspector, and arrangements for the removal of the dead man to the mortuary and theguardianship and thorough search of the house--and that done, Ayscoughbeckoned Melky out into the road. 

"Glad to be out of that--for this time, anyway!" he said, with an air ofrelief. "There's too much atmosphere of murder and mystery--what they callOriental mystery--for me in there, Mr. Rubinstein! Now then, there'ssomething we can do, at once. Did I understand you to say these two weremedical students at University College?"

"So Mr. Penniket said, " replied Melky. "S'elp me! I never heard of 'emtill this afternoon!"

"You're going to hear a fine lot about 'em before long, anyway!" remarkedAyscough. 

"Well--we'll just drive on to Gower Street--somebody'll know somethingabout 'em there, I reckon. "

He walked forward until he came to the cab-rank at the foot of St. John'sWood Road, where he bundled Melky into a taxi-cab, and bade the driver getaway to University College Hospital at his best pace. There was littledelay in carrying out that order, but it was not such an easy task onarrival at their destination to find any one who could give Ayscough theinformation he wanted. At last, after they had waited some time in areception room a young member of the house-staff came in and looked anenquiry. 

"What is it you want to know about these two Chinese students?" he asked alittle impatiently, with a glance at Ayscough's card. "Is anything wrong?"

"I want to know a good deal!" answered Ayscough. "If not just now, later. You know the two men I mean--Chang Li and Chen Li--brothers, I take it?"

"I know them--they've been students here since about last Christmas, "answered the young surgeon. "As a matter of fact they're not brothers--though they're very much alike, and both have the same surname--if Li is asurname. They're friends--not brothers, so they told us. "

"When did you see them last?" asked Ayscough. 

"Not for some days, now you mention it, " replied the surgeon. "Severaldays. I was remarking on that today--I missed them from a class. "

"You say they're very much alike, " remarked the detective. "I suppose youcan tell one from the other?"

"Of course! But--what is this? I see you're a detective sergeant. Are theyin any bother--trouble?"

"The fact of the case, " answered Ayscough, "is just this--one of them'slying dead at our mortuary, and I shall be much obliged if you'll stepinto my cab outside and come and identify him. Listen--it's a case ofmurder!"

Twenty minutes later, Ayscough, leading the young house-surgeon into agrim and silent room, turned aside the sheet from a yellow face. 

"Which one of 'em is it?" he asked. 

The house-surgeon started as he saw the wound in the dead man's throat. 

"This is Chen!" he answered. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

THE £500 BANK NOTE

Ayscough drew the sheet over the dead man's face and signed to hiscompanion to follow him outside, to a room where Melky Rubinstein, stillgravely meditating over the events of the evening, was awaiting theirreappearance. 

"So that, " said Ayscough, jerking his thumb in the direction of themortuary, "that's Chen Li! You're certain?"

"Chen Li! without a doubt!" answered the house-surgeon. "I know him well!"

"The younger of the two?" suggested Ayscough. 

The house-surgeon shook his head. 

"I can't say as to that, " he answered. "It would be difficult to tellwhich of two Chinese, of about the same age, was the older. But that'sChen. He and the other, Chang Li, are very much alike, but Chen was asomewhat smaller and shorter man. "

"What do you know of them?" inquired Ayscough. "Can you say what's knownat your hospital?"

"Very little, " replied the house-surgeon. "They entered, as studentsthere--we have several foreigners--about last Christmas--perhaps at theNew Year. All that I know of them is that they were like most Easterns--very quiet, unassuming, inoffensive fellows, very assiduous in theirstudies and duties, never giving any trouble, and very punctual in theirattendance. "

"And, you say, they haven't been seen at the hospital for some days?"continued Ayscough. "Now, can you tell me--it's important--since whatprecise date they've been absent?"

The house-surgeon reflected for a moment--then he suddenly drew out asmall memorandum book from an inner pocket. 

"Perhaps I can, " he answered, turning the pages over. "Yes--both these menshould have been in attendance on me--a class of my own, you know--on the20th, at 10. 35. They didn't turn up. I've never seen them since--in fact, I'm sure they've never been at the hospital since. "

"The 20th?" observed Ayscough. He looked at Melky, who was paying greatattention to the conversation. "Now let's see--old Mr. Multenius met hisdeath on the afternoon of the 18th. Parslett was poisoned on the night ofthe 19th. Um!"

"And Parslett was picked up about half-way between the Chink's house andhis own place, Mr. Ayscough--don't you forget that!" muttered Melky. "I'mnot forgetting--don't you make no error!"

"You don't know anything more that you could tell us about these two?"asked the detective, nodding reassuringly at Melky and then turning to thehouse-surgeon. "Any little thing?--you never know what helps. "

"I can't!" said the house-surgeon, who was obviously greatly surprised bywhat he had seen and heard. "These Easterns keep very much to themselves, you know. I can't think of anything. "

"Don't know anything of their associates--friends--acquaintances?"suggested Ayscough. "I suppose they had some--amongst your students?"

"I never saw them in company with anybody--particularly--except a youngJapanese who was in some of their classes, " replied the house-surgeon. "Ihave seen them talking with him--in Gower Street. "

"What's his name?" asked Ayscough, pulling out a note-book. 

"Mr. Mori Yada, " answered the house-surgeon promptly. "He lives in GowerStreet--I don't know the precise number of the house. Yes, that's the wayto spell his name. He's the only man I know who seemed to know these two. "

"Have you seen him lately?" asked Ayscough. 

"Oh, yes--regularly--today, in fact, " said the house-surgeon. 

He waited a moment in evident expectation of other questions; as thedetective asked none--"I gather, " he remarked, "that Chang Li hasdisappeared?"

"The house these two occupied is empty, " replied Ayscough. 

"I am going to suggest something, " said the house-surgeon. "I know--frompersonal observation--that there is a tea-shop in Tottenham Court Road--asort of quiet, privately-owned place--Pilmansey's--which these two used tofrequent. I don't know if that's of any use to you?"

"Any detail is of use, sir, " answered Ayscough, making another note. "Now, I'll tell this taxi-man to drive you back to the hospital. I shall callthere tomorrow morning, and I shall want to see this young Japanesegentleman, too. I daresay you see that this is a case of murder--andthere's more behind it!"

"You suspect Chang Li?" suggested the house-surgeon as they went out tothe cab. 

"Couldn't say that--yet, " replied Ayscough, grimly. "For anything I know, Chang Li may have been murdered, too. But I've a pretty good notion whatChen Li was knifed for!"

When the house-surgeon had gone away, Ayscough turned to Melky. 

"Come back to Molteno Lodge, " he said. "They're searching it. Let's see ifthey've found anything of importance. "

The house which had been as lifeless and deserted when Melky and thedetective visited it earlier in the evening was full enough of energy andanimation when they went back. One policeman kept guard at the front gate;another at the door of the yard; within the house itself, behind closeddoors and drawn shutters and curtains, every room was lighted and thelynx-eyed men were turning the place upside down. One feature of thesearch struck the newcomers immediately--the patch of ground whereon Melkyhad found the dead man had been carefully roped off. Ayscough made asignificant motion of his hand towards it. 

"Good!" he said, "that shows they've found footprints. That may be useful. Let's hear what else they've found. "

The man in charge of these operations was standing within the dining-roomwhen Ayscough and Melky walked in, and he at once beckoned them into theroom and closed the door. 

"We've made two or three discoveries, " he said, glancing at Ayscough. "Tostart with, there were footprints of a rather unusual sort round thesebushes where the man was lying--so I've had it carefully fenced in aroundthere--we'll have a better look at 'em, in daylight. Very small prints, you understand--more like a woman's than a man's. "

Ayscough's sharp eyes turned to the hearth--there were two or three pairsof slippers lying near the fender and he pointed to them. 

"These Chinamen have very small feet, I believe, " he said. "The footprintsare probably theirs. Well--what else?"

"This, " answered the man in charge, producing a small parcel from theside-pocket of his coat, and proceeding to divest it of a temporarywrapping. "Perhaps Mr. Rubinstein will recognize it. We found it thrownaway in a fire-grate in one of the bedrooms upstairs--you see, it's halfburnt. "

He produced a small, stoutly-made cardboard box, some three inches square, the outer surface of which was covered with a thick, glossy-surfaced dark-green paper, on which certain words were deeply impressed in gilt letters. The box was considerably charred and only fragments of the lettering onthe lid remained intact--but it was not difficult to make out what thefull wording had been. 

. . . . _enius_, . . . _nd jeweller_, . . _ed Street_. 

"That's one of the late Mr. Multenius's boxes, " affirmed Melky at once. "Daniel Multenius, Pawnbroker and Jeweller, Praed Street--that's the fullwording. Found in a fireplace, d'ye say, mister? Ah--and what had he takenout of it before he threw the box away, now, Mr. Ayscough--whoever it wasthat did throw it away?"

"That blessed orange and yellow diamond, I should think!" said Ayscough. "Of course! Well, anything else?"

The man in charge carefully wrapped up and put away the jeweller's box;then, with a significant glance at his fellow-detective, he slipped acouple of fingers into his waistcoat pocket and drew out what looked likea bit of crumpled paper. 

"Aye!" he answered. "This! Found it--just there! Lying on the floor, atthe end of this table. "

He opened out the bit of crumpled paper as he spoke and held it towardsthe other two. Ayscough stared, almost incredulously, and Melky let out asharp exclamation. 

"S'elp us!" he said. "A five-hundred-pound bank-note!"

"That's about it, " remarked the exhibitor. "Bank of England note for fivehundred of the best! And--a good 'un, too. Lying on the floor. "

"Take care of it, " said Ayscough laconically. "Well--you haven't found anypapers, documents, or anything of that sort, that give any clue?"

"There's a lot of stuff there, " answered the man in charge, pointing to apile of books and papers on the table, "but it seems to be chieflyexercises and that sort of thing. I'll look through it myself, later. "

"See if you can find any letters, addresses, and so on, " counselledAyscough. He turned over some of the books, all of them medical works andtext-books, opening some of them at random. And suddenly he caught sightof the name which the house-surgeon had given him half-an-hour before, written on a fly-leaf: Mori Yada, 491, Gower Street--and an idea came intohis mind. He bade the man in charge keep his eyes open and leave nothingunexamined, and tapping Melky's arm, led him outside. "Look here!" hesaid, drawing out his watch, as they crossed the hall, "it's scarcely teno'clock, and I've got the address of that young Jap. Come on--we'll go andask him a question or two. "

So for the second time that evening, Melky, who was beginning to feel asif he were on a chase which pursued anything but a straight course, foundhimself in Gower Street again, and followed Ayscough along, wondering whatwas going to happen next, until the detective paused at the door of a tallhouse in the middle of the long thoroughfare and rang the bell. A smartmaid answered that ring and looked dubiously at Ayscough as he proffered arequest to see Mr. Mori Yada. Yes--Mr. Yada was at home, but he didn'tlike to see any one, of an evening when he was at his studies, and--infact he'd given orders not to be disturbed at that time. 

"I think he'll see me, all the same, " said Ayscough, drawing out one ofhis professional cards. "Just give him that, will you, and tell him mybusiness is very important. "

He turned to Melky when the girl, still looking unwilling, had gone awayupstairs, and gave him a nudge of the elbow. 

"When we get up there--as we shall, " whispered Ayscough, "you watch thisJap chap while I talk to him. Study his face--and see if anythingsurprises him. "

"Biggest order, mister--with a Jap!" muttered Melky. "Might as well tellme to watch a stone image--their faces is like wood!"

"Try it!" said Ayscough. "Flicker of an eyelid--twist of the lip--anything! Here's the girl back again. "

A moment later Melky, treading close on the detective's heels, foundhimself ushered into a brilliantly-lighted, rather over-heated room, somewhat luxuriously furnished, wherein, in the easiest of chairs, a cigarin his lips, a yellow-backed novel in his hand, sat a slimly-built, elegant young gentleman whose face was melting to a smile. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

MR. MORI YADA

Ayscough was on his guard as soon as he saw that smile. He had had someexperience of various national characteristics in his time, and he knewthat when an Eastern meets you with a frank and smiling countenance youhad better keep all your wits about you. He began the exercise of his ownwith a polite bow--while executing it, he took a rapid inventory of Mr. Mori Yada. About--as near as he could judge--two or three and twenty; ablack-haired, black-eyed young gentleman; evidently fastidious about hisEnglish clothes, his English linen, his English ties, smart socks, andshoes--a good deal of a dandy, in short--and, judging from hissurroundings, very fond of English comfort--and not averse to the Englishcustom of taking a little spirituous refreshment with his tobacco. Adecanter stood on the table at his elbow; a syphon of mineral water reareditself close by; a tumbler was within reach of Mr. Yada's slenderyellowish fingers. 

"Servant, sir!" said Ayscough. "Detective Sergeant Ayscough of theCriminal Investigation Department--friend of mine, this, sir, Mr. Yada, Ibelieve--Mr. Mori Yada?"

Mr. Yada smiled again, and without rising, indicated two chairs. 

"Oh, yes!" he said in excellent English accents. "Pleased to see you--willyou take a chair--and your friend! You want to talk to me?"

Ayscough sat down and unbuttoned his overcoat. 

"Much obliged, sir, " he said. "Yes--the fact is, Mr. Yada, I called to seeyou on a highly important matter that's arisen. Your name, sir, was givento me tonight by one of the junior house-surgeons at the hospital up thestreet--Dr. Pittery. "

"Oh, yes, Dr. Pittery--I know, " agreed Yada. "Yes?"

"Dr. Pittery tells me, sir, " continued Ayscough, "that you know twoChinese gentlemen who are fellow-students of yours at the hospital, Mr. Yada?"

The Japanese bowed his dark head and blew out a mouthful of smoke from hiscigar. 

"Yes!" he answered readily, "Mr. Chang Li--Mr. Chen Li. Oh, yes!"

"I want to ask you a question, Mr. Yada, " said Ayscough, bending forwardand assuming an air of confidence. "When did you see those two gentlemenlast--either of them?"

Yada leaned back in his comfortably padded chair and cast his quick eyestowards the ceiling. Suddenly he jumped to his feet. 

"You take a little drop of whisky-and-soda?" he said hospitably, pushing aclean glass towards Ayscough. "Yes--I will get another glass for yourfriend, too. Help yourselves, please, then--I will look in my diary for ananswer to your question. You excuse me, one moment. "

He walked across the room to a writing cabinet which stood in one corner, and took up a small book that lay on the blotting-pad; while he turnedover its pages, Ayscough, helping himself and Melky to a drink, winked athis companion with a meaning expression. 

"I have not seen either Mr. Chang Li or Mr. Chen Li since the morning ofthe 18th November, " suddenly said Yada. He threw the book back on thedesk, and coming to the hearthrug, took up a position with his back to thefire and his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He nodded politely ashis visitors raised their glasses to him. "Is anything the matter, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?" he asked. 

Ayscough contrived to press his foot against Melky's as he gave a directanswer to this question. 

"The fact of the case is, Mr. Yada, " he said, "one of these two young menhas been murdered! murdered, sir!"

Yada's well-defined eyebrows elevated themselves--but the rest of his facewas immobile. He looked fixedly at Ayscough for a second or two--then helet out one word. 

"Which?"

"According to Dr. Pittery--Chen Li, " answered Ayscough. "Dr. Pitteryidentified him. Murdered, Mr. Yada, murdered! Knifed!--in the throat. "

The reiteration of the word murdered appeared to yield the detective somesort of satisfaction--but it apparently made no particular impression onthe Japanese. Again he rapped out one word. 

"Where?"

"His body was found in the garden of the house they rented in Maida Vale, "replied Ayscough. "Molteno Lodge. No doubt you've visited them there, Mr. Yada?"

"I have been there--yes, a few times, " assented Yada. "Not very lately. But--where is Chang Li?"

"That's what we don't know--and what we want to know, " said Ayscough. "He's not been seen at the hospital since the 20th. He didn't turn upthere--nor Chen, either, at a class, that day. And you say you haven'tseen them either since the 18th?"

"I was not at the hospital on the 19th, " replied Yada. He threw away theend of his cigar, picked up a fresh one from a box which stood on thetable, pushed the box towards his visitors, and drew out a silver match-box. "What are the facts of this murder, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?" heasked quietly. "Murder is not done without some object--as a rule. "

Ayscough accepted the offered cigar, passed the box to Melky and while helighted his selection, thought quietly. He was playing a game with theJapanese, and it was necessary to think accurately and quickly. Andsuddenly he made up his mind and assumed an air of candour. 

"It's like this, Mr. Yada, " he said. "I may as well tell you all about it. You've doubtless read all about this Praed Street mystery in thenewspapers? Well, now, some very extraordinary developments have arisenout of the beginnings of that, it turns out. "

Melky sat by, disturbed and uncomfortable, while Ayscough reeled off acomplete narrative of the recent discoveries to the suave-mannered, phlegmatic, calmly-listening figure on the hearthrug. He did notunderstand the detective's doings--it seemed to him the height of folly totell a stranger, and an Eastern stranger at that, all about the fact thatthere was a diamond worth eighty thousand pounds at the bottom of thesemysteries and murders. But he discharged his own duties, and watched Yadaintently--and failed to see one single sign of anything beyond ordinaryinterest in his impassive face. 

"So there it is, sir, " concluded Ayscough. "I've no doubt whatever thatChen Li called at Multenius's shop to pay the rent; that he saw thediamond in the old man's possession and swagged him for it; that Parslettsaw Chen Li slip away from that side-door and, hearing of Multenius'sdeath, suspected Chen Li of it and tried to blackmail him; that Chen Lipoisoned Parslett--and that Chen Li himself was knifed for that diamond. Now--by whom? Chang Li has--disappeared!"

"You suspect Chang Li?" asked Yada. 

"I do, " exclaimed Ayscough. "A Chinaman--a diamond worth every penny ofeighty thousand pounds--Ah!" He suddenly lifted his eyes to Yada with aquick enquiry. "How much do you know of these two?" he asked. 

"Little--beyond the fact that they were fellow-students of mine, " answeredYada. "I occasionally visited them--occasionally they visited me--that isall. "

"Dr. Pittery says they weren't brothers?" suggested Ayscough. 

"So I understood, " assented Yada. "Friends. "

"You can't tell us anything of their habits?--haunts?--what they usuallydid with themselves when they weren't at the hospital?" asked thedetective. 

"I should say that when they weren't at the hospital, they were at theirhouse--reading, " answered Yada, drily. "They were hard workers. "

Ayscough rose from his chair. 

"Well, much obliged to you, sir, " he said. "As your name was mentioned assome sort of a friend of theirs, I came to you. Of course, most of whatI've told you will be in all the papers tomorrow. If you should hearanything of this Chang Li, you'll communicate with us, Mr. Yada?"

The Japanese smiled--openly. 

"Most improbable, Mr. Detective-Sergeant!" he answered. "I know no morethan what I have said. For more information, you should go to the ChineseLegation. "

"Good idea, sir--thank you, " said Ayscough. 

He bowed himself and Melky out; once outside the street-door he drew hiscompanion away towards a part which lay in deep shadow. Some repairingoperations to the exterior of a block of houses were going on there;underneath a scaffolding which extended over the sidewalk Ayscough drewMelky to a halt. 

"You no doubt wondered why I told that chap so much?" he whispered. "Especially about that diamond! But I had my reasons--and particularly fortelling him about its value. "

"It isn't what I should ha' done, Mr. Ayscough, " said Melky, "and itdidn't ought to come out in the newspapers, neither--so I think! 'Tain't ahealthy thing to let the public know there's an eighty-thousand pounddiamond loose somewhere in London--and as to telling that slant-eyedfellow in there--"

"You wait a bit, my lad!" interrupted Ayscough. "I had my reasons--good'uns. Now, look here, we're going to watch that door awhile. If the Japcomes out--as I've an idea he will--we're going to follow. And as you'reyounger, and slimmer, and less conspicuous than I am, if he should emerge, keep on the shadowy side of the street, at a safe distance, and follow himas cleverly as you can. I'll follow you. "

"What new game's this?" asked Melky. 

"Never mind!" replied Ayscough. "And, if it does come to following, and heshould take a cab, contrive to be near--there's a good many people about, and if you're careful he'll never see you. And--there, now, what did Itell you? He's coming out, now! Be handy--more depends on it than you'reaware of. "

Yada, seen clearly in the moonlight which flooded that side of the street, came out of the door which they had left a few minutes earlier. His smartsuit of grey tweed had disappeared under a heavy fur-collared overcoat; ablack bowler hat surmounted his somewhat pallid face. He looked neither toright nor left, but walked swiftly up the street in the direction of theEuston Road. And when he had gone some thirty yards, Ayscough pushed Melkybefore him out of their retreat. 

"You go first, " he whispered, "I'll come after you. Keep an eye on him asfar as you can--didn't I tell you he'd come out when we'd left? Be wary!"

Melky slipped away up the street on the dark side and continued to trackthe slim figure quickly advancing in the moonlight. He followed until theyhad passed the front of the hospital--a few yards further, and Yadasuddenly crossed the road in the direction of the Underground Railway. Hedarted in at the entrance to the City-bound train, and disappeared, andMelky, uncertain what to do, almost danced with excitement until Ayscoughcame leisurely towards him. "Quick! quick!" exclaimed Melky. "He's gonedown there--City trains. He'll be off unless you're on to him!"

But Ayscough remained quiescent and calmly relighted his cigar. 

"All right, my lad, " he said. "Let him go--just now. I've seen--what Iexpected to see!"

CHAPTER THIRTY

THE MORTUARY

Melky, who had grown breathless in his efforts to carry out hiscompanion's wishes, turned and looked at him with no attempt to concealhis wonder. 

"Well, s'elp me if you ain't a cool 'un, Mr. Ayscough!" he exclaimed. "Here you troubles to track a chap to this here Underground Railway, seenhim pop into it like a rabbit into a hole--and let's him go! What did wefollow him up Gower Street for? Just to see him set off for a ride?"

"All right, my lad!" repeated Ayscough. "You don't quite understand ourlittle ways. Wait here a minute. "

He drew one of his cards from his pocket and carrying it into the bookingoffice exchanged a few words with the clerk at the window. Presently herejoined Melky. "He took a ticket for Whitechapel, " remarked Ayscough ashe strolled quietly up. "Ah! now what does a young Japanese medicalstudent want going down that way at eleven o'clock at night? Somethingspecial, no doubt, Mr. Rubinstein. However, I'm going westward just now. Just going to have a look in at the Great Western Hotel, to see if Mr. Purdie heard anything from that American chap--and then I'm for home andbed. Like to come to the hotel with me?"

"Strikes me we might as well make a night of it!" remarked Melky as theyrecrossed the road and sought a west-bound train. "We've had such anevening as I never expected! Mr. Ayscough! when on earth is this going tocome to something like a clearing-up?"

Ayscough settled himself in a corner of a smoking-carriage and leanedback. 

"My own opinion, " he said, "is that it's coming to an end. Tomorrow, thenews of the Chinaman's murder'll be the talk of the town. And if thatdoesn't fetch Levendale out of whatever cranny he's crept into, hanged ifI know what will!"

"Ah! you think that, do you?" said Melky. "But--why should that news fetchhim out?"

"Don't know!" replied Ayscough, almost unconcernedly. "But I'm almostcertain that it will. You see--I think Levendale's looking for Chen Li. Now, if Levendale hears that Chen Li's lying dead in our mortuary--what?See?"

Melky murmured that Mr. Ayscough was a cute 'un, and relapsed into thoughtuntil the train pulled up at Praed Street. He followed the detective upthe streets and across the road to the hotel, dumbly wondering how manytimes that day he had been in and about that quarter on this apparentlyinterminable chase. He was getting dazed--but Ayscough who was stillsmoking the cigar which Yada had given him, strode along into the hotelentrance apparently as fresh as paint. 

Purdie had a private sitting-room in connection with his bedroom, andthere they found him and Lauriston, both smoking pipes and each evidentlyfull of thought and speculation. They jumped to their feet as thedetective entered. 

"I say!" exclaimed Lauriston. "Is this true?--this about the Chinese chap?Is it what they think at your police-station?--connected with the otheraffairs? We've been waiting, hoping you'd come in!"

"Ah!" said Ayscough, dropping into a chair. "We've been pretty busy, meand Mr. Rubinstein there--we've had what you might call a pretty fullevening's work of it. Yes--it's true enough, gentlemen--another step inthe ladder--another brick in the building! We're getting on, Mr. Purdie, we're getting on! So you've been round to our place?--they told you, there!"

"They gave us a mere outline, " answered Purdie. "Just the bare facts. Isuppose you've heard nothing of the other Chinaman?"

"Not a circumstance--as yet, " said Ayscough. "But I'm in hopes--I've donea bit, I think, towards it--with Mr. Rubinstein's help, though he doesn'tquite understand my methods. But you, gentlemen--I came in to hear ifyou'd anything to tell about Guyler. What did he think about what JohnPurvis had to tell us this afternoon?"

"He wasn't surprised, " answered Purdie. "Don't you remember that heassured us from the very start that diamonds would be found to be at thebottom of this. But he surprised us!"

"Aye? How?" asked Ayscough. "Some news?"

"Guyler swears that he saw Stephen Purvis this very morning, " repliedPurdie. "He's confident of it!"

"Saw Stephen Purvis--this very morning!" exclaimed Ayscough. "Where, now?"

"Guyler had business down in the City--in the far end of it, " saidPurdie. "He was crossing Bishopsgate when he saw Stephen Purvis--he swearsit was Stephen Purvis!--nothing can shake him! He, Purvis, was justturning the corner into a narrow alley running out of the street. Guylerrushed after him--he'd disappeared. Guyler waited, watching that alley, hesays, like a cat watches a mouse-hole--and all in vain. He watched for anhour--it was no good. "

"Pooh!" said Ayscough. "If it was Purvis, he'd walked straight through thealley and gone out at the other end. "

"No!" remarked Lauriston. "At least, not according to Guyler. Guyler saysit was a long, narrow alley--Purvis could have reached one end by the timehe'd reached the other. He says--Guyler--that on each side of that alleythere are suites of offices--he reckoned there were a few hundred separateoffices in the lot, and that it would take him a week to make enquiry atthe doors of each. But he's certain that Purvis disappeared into one blockof them and dead certain that it was Stephen Purvis that he saw. So--Purvis is alive!"

"Where's the other Purvis--the farmer?" asked Ayscough. 

"Stopping with Guyler at the Great Northern, " answered Lauriston. "We'veall four been down in the City, looking round, this evening. Guyler andJohn Purvis are going down again first thing in the morning. John Purvis, of course, is immensely relieved to know that Guyler's certain about hisbrother. I say!--do you know what Guyler's theory is about that diamond ofStephen's?"

"No--and what might Mr. Guyler's theory be, now Mr. Lauriston?" enquiredthe detective. "There's such a lot of ingenious theories about that onemay as well try to take in another. Mr. Rubinstein there is about weary oftheories. "

But Melky was pricking his ears at the mere mention of anything relatingto the diamond. 

"That's his chaff, Mr. Lauriston, " he said. "Never mind him! What doesGuyler think?"

"Well, of course, Guyler doesn't know yet about the Chinese development, "said Lauriston. "Guyler thinks the robbery has been the work of a gang--aclever lot of diamond thieves who knew about Stephen Purvis's find of theorange-yellow thing and put in a lot of big work about getting it when itreached England. And he believes that that gang has kidnapped Levendale, and that Stephen Purvis is working in secret to get at them. That'sGuyler's notion, anyhow. "

"Well!" said Ayscough. "And there may be something in it! For this search--how do we know that at any rate one of these Chinamen mayn't have hadsome connection with this gang? You never know--and to get a dead straightline at a thing's almost impossible. However, we've taken steps to havethe news about the diamond and about this Chen Li appear in tomorrowmorning's papers, and if that doesn't rouse the whole town--"

A tap at the door prefaced the entrance of a waiter, who lookedapologetically at its inmates. 

"Beg pardon, gentlemen, " he said, "Mr. Ayscough? Gentleman outside wouldlike a word with you, if you please, sir. "

Ayscough picked up his hat and walked out--there, waiting a little waydown the corridor, an impressive figure in his big black cloak and wide-brimmed hat, stood Dr. Mirandolet. He strode forward as the detectiveadvanced. 

"I heard you were here, so I came up, " he said, leading Ayscough away. "Look here, my friend--one of your people has told me of this affair atMolteno Lodge--the discovery of the Chinaman's dead body. "

"That young fellow, Rubinstein, who called on you early this evening, andgot me to accompany him discovered it, " said Ayscough, who was wonderingwhat the doctor was after. "I was with him. "

"I have heard, too, " continued Mirandolet, "also from one of your people, about the strange story of the diamond which came out this afternoon, fromthe owner's brother. Now--I'll tell you why after--I want to see that deadChinaman! I've a particular reason. Will you come with me to themortuary?"

Ayscough's curiosity was aroused by Mirandolet's manner, and without goingback to Purdie's room, he set out with him. Mirandolet remained strangelysilent until they came to the street in which the mortuary stood. 

"A strange and mysterious matter this, my friend!" he said. "That littleRubinstein man might have had some curious premonition when he came to metonight with his odd question about Chinese!"

"Just what I said myself, doctor!" agreed Ayscough. 

"It did look as if he'd a sort of foreboding, eh? But--Hullo!"

He stopped short as a taxi-cab driven at a considerable speed, camerushing down the street and passing them swiftly turned into the widerroad beyond. And the sudden exclamation was forced from his lips becauseit seemed to him that as the cab sped by he saw a yellow-hued face withinit--for the fraction of a second. Quick as that glimpse was, Ayscough wasstill quicker as he glanced at the number on the back of the car--andmemorized it. 

"Odd!" he muttered, "odd! Now, I could have sworn--" He broke off, andhurried after Mirandolet who had stridden ahead. "Here we are, doctor, " hesaid, as they came to the door of the mortuary. "There's a man on nightduty here, so there's no difficulty about getting in. "

There was a drawing of bolts, a turning of keys; the door opened, and aman looked out and seeing Ayscough and Dr. Mirandolet, admitted them intoan ante-room and turned up the gas. 

"We want to see that Chinaman, George, " said the detective. "Shan't keepyou long. "

"There's a young foreign doctor just been to see him, Mr. Ayscough, " saidthe man. "You'd pass his car down the street--he hasn't been gone threeminutes. Young Japanese--brought your card with him. "

Ayscough turned on the man as if he had given him the most startling newsin the world. 

"What?" he exclaimed, "Japanese? Brought my card?"

"Showed me it as soon as he got here, " answered the attendant, surprisedat Ayscough's amazement. "Said you'd given it to him, so that he couldcall here and identify the body. So, of course, I let him go in. "

Ayscough opened his mouth in sheer amazement. But before he could get outa word, Mirandolet spoke, seizing the mortuary-keeper by the arm in hiseagerness. 

"You let that man--a Japanese--see the dead Chinaman--_alone_?" hedemanded. 

"Why, of course!" the attendant answered surlily. "He'd Mr. Ayscough'scard, and--"

Mirandolet dropped the man's arm and threw up his own long white hands. 

"Merciful Powers!" he vociferated. "He has stolen the diamond!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE MIRANDOLET THEORY

The silence that followed on this extraordinary exclamation was suddenlybroken: the mortuary keeper, who had been advancing towards a door at theside of the room, dropped a bunch of keys. The strange metallic sound oftheir falling roused Ayscough, who had started aside, and was staring, open-mouthed, at Mirandolet's waving hands. He caught the doctor by thearm. 

"What on earth do you mean?" he growled. "Speak man--what is it?"

Mirandolet suddenly laughed. 

"What is it?" he exclaimed. "Precisely what I said, in plain language!That fellow has, of course, gone off with the diamond--worth eightythousand pounds! Your card!--Oh, man, man, whatever have you been doing?Be quick!--who is this Japanese?--how came he by your card? Quick, I say!--if you want to be after him!"

"Hanged if I know what this means!" muttered Ayscough. "As to who he is--if he's the fellow I gave a card to, he's a young Japanese medicalstudent, one Yada, that was a friend of those Chinese--I called on himtonight, with Rubinstein, to see if we could pick up a bit of information. Of course, I sent in my professional card to him. But--we saw him set offto the East End!"

"Bah!" laughed Mirandolet. "He has--what you call done you brown, myfriend! He came--here! And he has got away--got a good start--with thatdiamond in his pocket!"

"What the devil do you mean by that?" said Ayscough, hotly. "Diamond!Diamond! Where should he find the diamond--here? In a deadhouse? What areyou talking about?"

Mirandolet laughed again, and giving the detective a look that was verylike one of pitying contempt, turned to the amazed mortuary keeper. 

"Show us that dead man!" he said. 

The mortuary keeper, who had allowed his keys to lie on the floor duringthis strange scene, picked them up, and selecting one, opened, and threwback the door by which he was standing. He turned on the light in themortuary chamber, and Mirandolet strode in, with Ayscough, sullen andwondering, at his heels. 

Chen Li lay where the detective had last seen him, still and rigid, thesheet drawn carefully over his yellow face. Without a word Mirandolet drewthat sheet aside, and motioning his companion to draw nearer, pointed to askull-cap of thin blue silk which fitted over the Chinaman's head. 

"You see that!" he whispered. "You know what's beneath it!--something thatno true Chinaman ever parts with, even if he does come to Europe, and doeswear English dress and English headgear--his pigtail! Look here!"

He quietly moved the skull-cap, and showed the two astonished men acarefully-coiled mass of black hair, wound round and round the back of thehead. And into it he slipped his own long, thin fingers--to draw them outagain with an exclamation which indicated satisfaction with his ownconvictions. 

"Just as I said, " he remarked. "Gone! Mr. Detective--that's where Chen Lihid the diamond--and that Japanese man has got it. And now--you'd betterbe after him--half-an-hour's start to him is as good as a week's would beto you. "

He drew the sheet over the dead face and strode out, and Ayscoughfollowed, angry, mystified, and by no means convinced. 

"Look here!" he said, as they reached the ante-room; "that's all verywell, Dr. Mirandolet, but it's only supposition on your part!"

"Supposition that you'll find to be absolute truth, my good friend!"retorted Mirandolet, calmly. "I know the Chinese--better than you think. As soon as I heard of this affair tonight, I came to you to put you up tothe Chinese trick of secreting things of value in their pigtails--it didnot occur to me that the diamond might be there in this case, but Ithought you would probably find something. But when we reached thismortuary, and I heard that a Japanese had been here, presenting your cardwhen he had no business to present it, I guessed immediately what hadhappened--and now that you tell me that you told him all about thisaffair, well--I am certain of my assertion. Mr. Detective--go after thediamond!"

He turned as if to leave the place, and Ayscough followed. 

"He mayn't been after the diamond at all!" he said, still resentful andincredulous. "Is it very likely he'd think it to be in that dead chap'spigtail when the other man's missing? It's Chang that's got that diamond--not Chen. "

"All right, my friend!" replied Mirandolet. "Your wisdom is superior tomine, no doubt. So--I wish you good-night!"

He strode out of the place and turned sharply up the street, and Ayscough, after a growl or two, went back to the mortuary keeper. 

"How long was that Jap in there?" he asked, nodding at the death chamber. 

"Not a minute, Mr. Ayscough!" replied the man. "In and out again, as youmight say. "

"Did he say anything when he came out?" enquired the detective. 

"He did--two words, " answered the keeper. "He said, 'That's he!' andwalked straight out, and into his car. "

"And when he came he told you I'd sent him?" demanded Ayscough. 

"Just that--and showed me your card, " assented the man. "Of course, I'd noreason to doubt his word. "

"Look here, George!" said Ayscough, "you keep this to yourself! Don't sayanything to any of our folks if they come in. I don't half believe whatthat doctor said just now--but I'll make an enquiry or two. Mum's theword, meanwhile. You understand, George?"

George answered that he understood very well, and Ayscough presently lefthim. Outside, in the light of the lamp set over the entrance to themortuary, he pulled out his watch. Twelve o'clock--midnight. Andsomewhere, that cursed young Jap was fleeing away through the Londonstreets--having cheated him, Ayscough, at his own game!

He had already reckoned things up in connection with Yada. Yada had beenhaving him--even as Melky Rubinstein had suspected and suggested--allthrough that conversation at Gower Street. Probably, Yada, from his windowin the drawing-room floor of his lodging-house, had watched him and Melkyslip across the street and hide behind the hoarding opposite. And thenYada had gone out, knowing he was to be followed, and had tricked thembeautifully, getting into an underground train going east, and, in allcertainty, getting out again at the next station, chartering a cab, andreturning west--with Ayscough's card in his pocket. 

But Ayscough knew one useful thing--he had memorized the letters andnumbers of the taxi-cab in which Yada had sped by him and Mirandolet, L. C. 2571--he had kept repeating that over and over. Now he took out his note-book and jotted it down--and that done he set off to the police-station, intent first of all on getting in touch with New Scotland Yard by means ofthe telephone. 

Ayscough, like most men of his calling in London, had a considerableamount of general knowledge of things and affairs, and he summoned it tohis aid in this instance. He knew that if the Japanese really had becomepossessed of the orange and yellow diamond (of which supposition, in spiteof Mirandolet's positive convictions, he was very sceptical) he would mostcertainly make for escape. He would be off to the Continent, hot foot. Now, Ayscough had a good acquaintance with the Continental train services--some hours must elapse before Yada could possibly get a train for Dover, or Folkstone, or Newhaven, or the shortest way across, or to any otherports such as Harwich or Southampton, by a longer route. Obviously, thefirst thing to do was to have the stations at Victoria, and Charing Cross, and Holborn Viaduct, and London Bridge carefully watched for Yada. And fortwo weary hours in the middle of the night he was continuously at work onthe telephone, giving instructions and descriptions, and makingarrangements to spread a net out of which the supposed fugitive could notescape. 

And when all that was at last satisfactorily arranged, Ayscough wasconscious that it might be for nothing. He might be on a wrong trackaltogether--due to the suspicions and assertions of that queer man, Mirandolet. There might be some mystery--in Ayscough's opinion therealways was mystery wherever Chinese or Japanese or Hindus were concerned. Yada might have some good reason for wishing to see Chen Li's dead body, and have taken advantage of the detective's card to visit it. Thisextraordinary conduct might be explained. But meanwhile Ayscough could notafford to neglect a chance, and tired as he was, he set out to find thedriver of the taxicab whose number he had carefully set down in hisnotebook. 

There was little difficulty in this stage of the proceedings; it wasmerely a question of time, of visiting a central office and finding theman's name and address. By six o'clock in the morning Ayscough was at asmall house in a shabby street in Kentish Town, interviewing a woman whohad just risen to light her fire, and was surlily averse to calling up ahusband, who, she said, had not been in bed until nearly four. She was notany more pleased when Ayscough informed her of his professional status--but the man was fetched down. 

"You drove a foreigner--a Japanese--to the mortuary in Paddington lastnight?" said Ayscough, plunging straight into business, after telling theman who he was. "I saw him--just a glimpse of him--in your cab, and I tookyour number. Now, where did you first pick him up?"

"Outside the Underground, at King's Cross, " replied the driver promptly. 

This was precisely what Ayscough had expected; so far, so good; his ownprescience was proving sure. 

"Anything wrong, mister?" asked the driver. 

"There may be, " said Ayscough. "Well--you picked him up there, and drovehim straight to the mortuary?"

"No--I didn't, " said the man. "We made a call first. Euston. He went inthere, and, I should say, went to the left luggage office, 'cause he cameback again with a small suit-case--just a little 'un. Then we went on tothat mortuary. "

Euston! A small suit-case! More facts--Ayscough made notes of them. 

"Well, " he said, "and when you drove away from the mortuary, where did yougo then?"

"Oxford Circus, " answered the driver, "set him down--his orders--rightopposite the Tube Station--t'other side of the street. "

"Did you see which way he went--then?" enquired Ayscough. 

"I did. Straight along Oxford Street--Tottenham Court Road way, " said thedriver, "carrying his suitcase--which it was, as I say, on'y a little 'un--and walking very fast. Last I see of him was that, guv'nor. "

Ayscough went away and got back to more pretentious regions. He was deadtired and weary with his night's work, and glad to drop in at an early-opened coffee-shop and get some breakfast. While he ate and drank a boycame in with the first editions of the newspapers. Ayscough picked one up--and immediately saw staring headlines:--

THE PADDINGTON MYSTERIES. NEW AND STARTLING FEATURES. DIAMOND WORTH £80, 000 BEING LOOKED FORMURDER IN MAIDA VALE

Ayscough laid down the paper and smiled. Levendale--if not dead--couldscarcely fail to see that!

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ONE O'CLOCK MIDNIGHT

Five minutes after Ayscough had gone away with Dr. Mirandolet the hotelservant who had summoned him from Purdie's sitting-room knocked at thedoor for the second time and put a somewhat mystified face inside. 

"Beg pardon, sir, " he said, glancing at Purdie, who was questioning MelkyRubinstein as to the events of the evening in their relation to the housein Maida Vale. "Two ladies outside, sir--waiting to see you. But theydon't want to come in, sir, unless they know who's here--don't want tomeet no strangers, sir. "

Purdie jumped to his feet, and putting the man aside looked into thedimly-lighted corridor. There, a few paces away, stood Zillah--and, halfhidden by her, Mrs. Goldmark. 

"Come in--come in!" he exclaimed. "Nobody here but Andie Lauriston andMelky Rubinstein. You've something to tell--something's happened?"

He ushered them into the room, sent the hotel servant, obviously in astate of high curiosity about these happenings, away, and closed the door. 

"S'elp me!" exclaimed Melky, "there ain't no other surprises, Zillah? Youain't come round at this time o' night for nothing! What you got to tell, Zillah?--another development?"

"Mrs. Goldmark has something to tell, " answered Zillah. "We didn't knowwhat to do, and you didn't come, Melky--nobody come--and so we locked thehouse and thought of Mr. Purdie. Mrs. Goldmark has seen somebody!"

"Who?" demanded Melky. "Somebody, now? What somebody?"

"The man that came to her restaurant, " replied Zillah. "The man who lostthe platinum solitaire!"

Mrs. Goldmark who had dropped into the chair which Purdie had drawn to theside of the table for her, wagged her head thoughtfully. 

"This way it was, then, " she said, with a dramatic suggestion of personalenjoyment in revealing a new feature of the mystery, "I have a friend wholives in Stanhope Street--Mrs. Isenberg. She sends to me at half-past-tento tell me she is sick. I go to see her--immediate. I find her verypoorly--so! I stop with her till past eleven, doing what I can. Then hersister, she comes--I can do no more--I come away. And I walk throughSussex Square, as my road back to Praed Street and Zillah. But before I ammuch across Sussex Square, I stop--sudden, like that! For what? Because--Isee 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 atall. 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 goodtime. It is like this. A taxicab comes up--approaching me. It stops--bythe pavement. Two men--they get out. Him first. Then another. They pay thedriver--then they walk on a little--just a few steps. They go into ahouse. The other man--he lets them into that house. With a latch-key. Thedoor opens--shuts. They are inside. Then I go to Zillah and tell her whatI 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, notbeing able to say he was ever pointed out to me. "

"Well, you can describe the man who pulled out his latch-key and openedthe door, anyhow, " remarked Purdie. "You took a good look at him, Isuppose!"

"And a good one, " answered Mrs. Goldmark. "He was one of our people--I sawhis nose and his eyes. And I was astonished to see so poor-looking a manhave a latch-key to so grand a mansion as that!--he was dressed in poorclothes, and looked dirty and mean. "

"A bearded dark man?" suggested Purdie. 

"Not at all, " said Mrs. Goldmark. "A clean-shaved man--though dark hemight be. "

Purdie looked at Melky and shook his head. 

"That's not Levendale!" he said, "Clean-shaven! Levendale's bearded andmustached--and I should say a bit vain of his beard. Um! you're deadcertain, Mrs. Goldmark, about the other man?"

"As that I tell you this, " insisted Mrs. Goldmark. "I see him as plain aswhat I see him when he calls at my establishment and leaves his jewelleryon 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. Soundslike as if these two went into Levendale's house. But what man would havea latch-key to that but Levendale himself? More mystery!--ain't I full ofit already? Now if Mr. Ayscough hadn't gone away--"

"Look here!" said Purdie, coming to a sudden decision, "I'm going roundthere. I want to know what this means--I'm going to know. You ladies hadbetter go home. If you others like to come as far as the corner of SussexSquare, come. But I'm going to Levendale's house alone. I'll findsomething out. "

He said no more until, Zillah and Mrs. Goldmark having gone homeward, andhe and his two companions having reached a side street leading into SussexSquare, he suddenly paused and demanded their attention!

"I've particular reasons for wanting to go into that house alone, " hesaid. "There's no danger--trust me. But--if I'm not out again in a quarterof an hour or so, you can come there and ask for me. My own impression isthat I shall find Levendale there. And--as you're aware, Andie--I knowLevendale. " He left them standing in the shadow of a projecting porticoand going up to Levendale's front door, rang the bell. There was no lightin 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. Andsuddenly, as he stood waiting and listening, he heard a voice that soundedclose by him and became aware that there was a small trap or grille in thedoor, 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 asquickly closed behind him. At the same instant the click of a switchheralded a flood of electric light, and he started to see a man standingat his side--a man who gave him a queer, deprecating smile, a man who wasnot 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--aroom in which the remains of a cold, evidently impromptu supper lay on atable lighted by a shaded lamp. Two men had been partaking of that supper, but Levendale was alone. He gave his visitor another queer smile, andpointed, first to a chair and then to a decanter. 

"Sit down--take a drink, " he said. "This is a queer meeting! We haven'tseen each other since--"

"Good God, man!" broke in Purdie, staring at his host. "What's it allmean? 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 hisgesture which showed his visitor that he was dead beat. 

"Aye, just so!" he said. "But--tell me! has John Purvis come looking forhis 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 ishe?"

"Upstairs--asleep--dead tired out, " said Levendale. "We both are! Nightand 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 alittle 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 ofall, Levendale. Look here!" he went on. "What are you going to do? Thisqueer disappearance of yours--this being away--coming back without yourbeard and dressed like that!--aren't you going to explain? The police--"

"Yes!" said Levendale. "Ten o'clock this morning--the police-station. Bethere--all of you--anybody--anybody who likes--I'm going to tell thepolice all I know. Purvis and I, we can't do any more--baffled, youunderstand! But now--go away, Purdie, and let me sleep--I'm dead donefor!"

Within ten minutes of leaving them, Purdie was back with Lauriston andMelky 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 offhis beard and mustache, and he's wearing tramp's clothes and he andStephen Purvis have been looking night and day, for that confoundeddiamond, and for eighty thousand pounds! And--what's more, Levendale doesnot know who killed Daniel Multenius or that he was murdered! But, byGeorge, 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 waitnine hours to hear it!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

SECRET WORK

The inner room of the police-station, at ten o'clock that morning, wasfull of men. Purdie, coming there with Lauriston at five minutes beforethe hour, found Melky Rubinstein hanging about the outer door, and hadonly just time to warn his companion to keep silence as to their midnightdiscovery before Guyler and John Purvis drove up in one cab and Mr. Killick in another. Inside, Ayscough, refreshed by his breakfast and anhour's rest, was talking to the inspector and the man from New ScotlandYard--all these looked enquiringly at the group which presently crowded inon them. 

"Any of you gentlemen got any fresh news?" demanded the inspector, as heran his eye over the expectant faces "No?--well, I suppose you're allwanting to know if we have?" He glanced at Ayscough, who was pointing outcertain paragraphs in one of the morning newspapers to the Scotland Yardman. "The fact is, " he continued, "there have been queer developmentssince last night--and I don't exactly know where we are! My own opinion isthat we'd better wait a few hours before saying anything more definite--tomy mind, these newspapers are getting hold of too much news--givinginformation to the enemy, as it were. I think you'd all better leavethings to us, gentlemen--for a while. " There was rather more than a politeintimation 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 cameabout--myself--as for the rest--"

"Your brother's here!" said Purdie, who was standing by the window andkeeping an eye on the street outside. "And Mr. Levendale with him--hadn'tyou 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 wasushering in the new arrivals. And Purdie was quick to note that theLevendale who entered, a sheaf of morning papers in his hand, was a vastlydifferent Levendale to the man he had seen nine hours before, dirty, unkempt, and worn out with weariness. The trim beard and mustache werehopelessly lost, and there were lines on Levendale's face which theyconcealed, but Levendale himself was now smartly groomed and carefullydressed, and business-like, and it was with the air of a man who meansbusiness that he strode into the room and threw a calm nod to theofficials. 

"Now, Inspector, " he said, going straight to the desk, while StephenPurvis turned to his brother. "I see from the papers that you've all beenmuch exercised about Mr. Purvis and myself--it just shows how a couple ofmen can disappear and give some trouble before they're found. But here weare!--and why we're here is because we're beaten--we took our own coursein trying to find our own property--and we're done! We can do no more--andso we come to you. "

"You should have come here at first, Mr. Levendale, " said the Inspector, alittle sourly. "You'd have saved a lot of trouble--to yourselves as wellas to us. But that's neither here nor there--I suppose you've something totell us, sir?"

"Before I tell you anything, " replied Levendale, "I want to knowsomething. " 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 itin a nutshell. A diamond--an orange-yellow diamond--worth eighty thousandpounds, the property of Mr. Stephen Purvis there. That's item one! Butthere'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 allthe days and nights since we disappeared--and we're beaten! Now you'llhave to take it up--and I'd better tell you the plain truth about what'sno doubt seemed a queer business from the first. Half-an-hour's talk nowwill save hours of explanation later on. So listen to me, all of you--Ialready see two gentlemen here, Mr. Killick, and Mr. Guyler, who in acertain 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 againstit, and Levendale took a chair by the side of the desk and looked round atan expectant audience. 

"It's a queer and, in some respects, an involved story, " he said, "but Ishall contrive to make matters plain to you before I've finished. I shallhave to go back a good many years--to a time when, as Mr. Killick thereknows, I was a partner with Daniel Molteno in a jewellery business in theCity. I left him, and went out to South Africa, where I engaged in diamondtrading. I did unusually well in my various enterprises, and some yearslater I came back to London a very well-to-do man. Not long after myreturn, I met my former partner again. He had changed his name toMultenius, and was trading in Praed Street as a jeweller and pawnbroker. Now, I had no objection to carrying on a trade with certain businessconnections of mine at the Cape--and after some conversation withMultenius he and I arranged to buy and sell diamonds together here inLondon, 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, whoconducted them--he was as good and keen a judge of diamonds as any man Iever knew--and no one here was aware that I was concerned in them. I neverwent to his shop in Praed Street but twice--if it was absolutely necessaryfor him to see me, we met in the City, at a private office which I havethere. Now you understand the exact relations between Daniel Multenius andmyself. We were partners--in secret. 

"We come, then, to recent events. Early in this present autumn, we heardfrom Mr. Stephen Purvis, with whom I had had some transactions in SouthAfrica, that he had become possessed of a rare and fine orange-yellowdiamond 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, afterwhich 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 everythingfor that date. That date, then, becomes of special importance--whathappened at Multenius's shop in Praed Street on the afternoon of November18th, between half-past four and half-past five is, of course, the thingthat really is of importance. Now, what did happen? I can tell you--saveas regards one detail which is, perhaps, of more importance than the otherdetails. Of that detail I can't tell anything--but I can offer a goodsuggestion about it. 

"Stephen Purvis was to call at Daniel Multenius's shop in Praed Streetbetween five o'clock and half-past on the afternoon of November 18th--tocomplete the sale of his diamond. About noon on that day, Daniel Multeniuswent to the City. He went to his bank and took the diamond away. He thenproceeded to my office, where I handed him eighty thousand pounds in banknotes--notes of large amounts. With the diamond and these notes in hispossession, Daniel Multenius went back to Praed Street. I was to join himthere shortly after five o'clock. 

"Now we come to my movements. I lunched in the City, and afterwards wentto a certain well-known book-seller's in Holborn, who had written to tellme that he had for sale a valuable book which he knew I wanted. I havebeen a collector of rare books ever since I came back to England. I spentan hour or so at the book-seller's shop. I bought the book which I hadgone to see--paying a very heavy price for it. I carried it away in myhand, not wrapped up, and got into an omnibus which was going my way, androde in it as far as the end of Praed Street. There I got out. And--inspite of what I said in my advertisement in the newspapers of thefollowing morning, --I had the book in my hand when I left the omnibus. WhyI pretended to have lost it, why I inserted that advertisement in thepapers, I shall tell you presently--that was all part of a game which wasforced upon me. 

"It was, as near as I can remember, past five o'clock when I turned alongPraed Street. The darkness was coming on, and there was a slight rainfalling, and a tendency to fog. However, I noticed something--I amnaturally very quick of observation. As I passed the end of the streetwhich goes round the back of the Grand Junction Canal basin, the streetcalled Iron Gate Wharf, I saw turn into it, walking very quickly, aChinaman whom I knew to be one of the two Chinese medical students to whomDaniel Multenius had let a furnished house in Maida Vale. He had his backto me--I did not know which of the two he was. I thought nothing of thematter, and went on. In another minute I was at the pawn-shop. I openedthe door, walked in, and went straight to the little parlour--I had beenthere just twice before when Daniel Multenius was alone, and so I knew myway. I went, I say, straight through--and in the parlour doorway ran intoStephen Purvis. 

"Purvis was excited--trembling, big fellow though he is, do you see? Hewill bear me out as to what was said--and done. Without a word, he turnedand pointed to where Daniel Multenius was lying across the floor--dead. 'Ihaven't been here a minute!' said Purvis. 'I came in--found him, likethat! 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 possiblydead--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. Itwas a theory--and I am confident yet that it was the correct one. And Itell you plainly that my concern from that instant was not with DanielMultenius, but with the Chinaman! I thought and acted like lightning. First, I hastily examined Multenius, felt in his pockets, found that therewas nothing there that I wanted and that he was dead. Then I rememberedthat on a previous visit of mine he had let me out of his house by a doorat the rear which communicated with a narrow passage running into MarketStreet, and without a second's delay, I seized Purvis by the arm andhurried him out. It was dark enough in that passage--there was not a soulabout--we crossed Market Street, turned to the right, and were in Oxfordand Cambridge Terrace before we paused. My instinct told me that the rightthing to do was to get away from that parlour. And it was not until wewere quite away from it that I realized that I had left my book behindme!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

BAFFLED

Levendale paused at this point of his story, and looked round the circleof attentive faces. He was quick to notice that two men were watching himwith particularly close attention--one was Ayscough, the other, the oldsolicitor. 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 anyquestions you like--any of you--when I've done. But--let me finish--forthen perhaps you'll fully understand what we were at. 

"Purvis and I walked up and down in Oxford and Cambridge Terrace for sometime--discussing the situation. The more I considered the matter, the moreI was certain that my first theory was right--the Chinaman had got thediamond and the bank-notes. I was aware of these two Chinamen as tenants ofMultenius's furnished house--as a matter of fact, I had been present, atthe shop in Praed Street, on one of my two visits there when theyconcluded their arrangements with him. What I now thought was this--one ofthem 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 thediamond and the money on the table, placed there in readiness for Purvis'scoming, and had possessed himself of both and made off. Purvis agreed withme. And--both Purvis and myself are well acquainted with thecharacteristic peculiarities, and idiosyncrasies of Chinamen!--we knewwith what we had to deal. Therefore we knew what we had to do. We wantedthe diamond and my money. And since we were uncomfortably aware of thecraft and subtlety of the thief who'd got both we knew we should have touse craft ourselves--and of no common sort. Therefore we decided that thevery last thing we should think of would be an immediate appeal to thepolice. 

"Now, you police officials may, nay, will!--say that we ought to have gonestraight to you, especially as this was a case of murder. But we knewnothing about it being a case of murder. We had seen no signs of violenceon the old man--I knew him to be very feeble, and I believed he had beensuddenly struck over by paralysis, or something of that sort. I reckonedmatters up, carefully. It was plain that Daniel Multenius had been leftalone in house and shop--that his granddaughter was out on some errand orother. Therefore, no one knew of the diamond and the money. We did notwant any one to know. If we had gone to the police and told our tale, thenews would have spread, and would certainly have reached the Chinaman'sears. We knew well enough that if we were to get our property back thethief must not be alarmed--there must be nothing in the newspapers nextmorning. The Chinaman must not know that the real owners of the diamondand the bank-notes suspected him--he must not know that information abouthis booty was likely to be given to the police. He must be left tobelieve--for some hours at any rate--that what he had possessed himself ofwas the property of a dead man who could not tell anything. But therewas my book in that dead man's parlour! It was impossible to go back andfetch it. It was equally impossible that it should not attract attention. Daniel Multenius's granddaughter, whom I believed to be a very sharp youngwoman, would notice it, and would know that it had come into the placeduring her absence. I thought hard over that problem--and finally Idrafted an advertisement and sent it off to an agency with instructions toinsert it in every morning newspaper in London next day. Why? Because Iwanted to draw a red herring across the trail!--I wanted, for the timebeing, to set up a theory that some man or other had found that book inthe omnibus, had called in at Multenius's to sell or pawn it, had foundthe old man alone, and had assaulted and robbed him. All this was with aview to hoodwinking the Chinaman. Anything must be done, anything!--tokeep him ignorant that Purvis and I knew the real truth. 

"But--what did we intend to do? I tell you, not being aware that oldDaniel Multenius had met his death by violence, we did not give onesecond's thought to that aspect and side of the affair--we concentrated onthe recovery of our property. I knew the house in which these Chineselived. That evening, Purvis and I went there. We have both beenaccustomed, in our time, to various secret dealings and manoeuvres, and weentered the grounds of that house without any one being the wiser. It didnot take long to convince us that the house was empty. It remained emptythat night--Purvis kept guard over it, in an outhouse in the garden. Noone either entered or left it between our going to it and Purvis comingaway from it next morning--he stayed there, watching until it was time tokeep an appointment with me in Hyde Park. Before I met him, I had beencalled upon by Detective Ayscough, Mr. Rubinstein, and Mr. Lauriston--theyknow what I said to them. I could not at that time say anything else--Ihad my own concerns to think of. 

"When Purvis and I met we had another consultation, and we determined, inview of all the revelations which had come out and had been published inthe papers, that the suspicion cast on young Mr. Lauriston was the verybest thing that could happen for us; it would reassure our Chinaman. Andwe made up our minds that the house in Maida Vale would not be founduntenanted that night, and we arranged to meet there at eleven o'clock. Wefelt so sure that our man would have read all the news in the papers, andwould feel safe, and that we should find him. But, mark you, we had noidea as to which of the two Chinamen it was that we wanted. Of one fact, however, we were certain--whichever it was that I had seen slip round thecorner of Iron Gate Wharf the previous day, whether it was Chang Li orChen Li, he would have kept his secret to himself! The thing was--to getinto that house; to get into conversation with both; to decide which wasthe guilty man, and then--to take our own course. We knew what to do--andwe went fully prepared. 

"Now we come to this--our second visit to the house in Maida Vale. To beexact, it was between eleven and twelve on the second night after thedisappearance of the diamond. As on the previous night, we gained accessto the garden by the door at the back--that, on each occasion, wasunfastened, while the gate giving access to the road in Maida Vale wassecurely locked. And, as on the previous night, we quickly found that upto then at any rate, the house was empty. But not so the garden! While Iwas looking round the further side of the house, Purvis took a carefullook round the garden. And presently he came to me and drew away to theasphalted path which runs from the front gate to the front door. The moonhad risen above the houses and trees--and in its light he pointed tobloodstains. It did not take a second look, gentlemen, to see that theywere recent--in fact, fresh. Somebody had been murdered in that garden notmany minutes--literally, minutes!--before our arrival. And within twominutes more we found the murdered man lying behind some shrubbery on theleft of the path. I knew him for the younger of the two Chinese--the mancalled Chen Li. 

"This discovery, of course, made us aware that we were now face to facewith a new development. We were not long in arriving at a conclusion aboutthat. Chang Li had found out that his friend had become possessed of thesevaluable--he might have discovered the matter of the diamond, or of thebank-notes or both--how was immaterial. But we were convinced, puttingeverything together, that he had made this discovery, had probably laid inwait for Chen Li as he returned home that night, had run a knife into himas he went up the garden, had dragged the body into the shrubbery, possessed himself of the loot, and made off. And now we were face to facewith what was going, as we knew, to be the stiffest part of our work--thefinding of Chang Li. We set to work on that without a moment's delay. 

"I have told you that Purvis and I have a pretty accurate knowledge ofChinamen; we have both had deep and intimate experience of them and theirways. I, personally, know a good deal of the Chinese Colony in London: Ihave done business with Chinamen, both in London and South Africa, foryears. I had a good idea of what Chang Li's procedure would be. He wouldhide--if need be, for months, until the first heat of the hue and crywhich he knew would be sure to be raised, would have cooled down. Thereare several underground warrens--so to speak--in the East End, in which hecould go to earth, comfortably and safely, until there was a chance ofslipping out of the country unobserved. I know already of some of them. Iwould get to know of others. 

"Purvis and I got on that track--such as it was, at once. We went along tothe East End there and then--before morning I had shaved off my beard andmustache, disguised myself in old clothes, and was beginning my work. First thing next morning I did two things--one was to cause a telegram tobe sent from Spring Street to my butler explaining my probable absence;the other to secretly warn the Bank of England about the bank-notes. But Ihad no expectation that Chang Li would try to negotiate those--all hisenergies, I knew, would be concentrated on the diamond. Nevertheless, hemight try--and would, if he tried--succeed--in changing one note, and itwas as well to take that precaution. 

"Now then, next day, Purvis and I being, in our different ways, at work inthe East End, we heard the news about the Praed Street tradesman, Parslett. That seemed to me remarkable proof of my theory. As thesuccessive editions of the newspapers came out during that day, and nextday, we learnt all about the Parslett affair. I saw through it at once. Parslett, being next-door neighbour to Daniel Multenius, had probably seenChen Li--whom we now believed to have been the actual thief--slip awayfrom Multenius's door, and, when the news of Daniel's death came out, hadput two and two together, and, knowing where the Chinamen lived, had goneto the house in Maida Vale to blackmail them. I guessed what had happenedthen--Parslett, to quieten him for the moment, had been put off with fiftypounds in gold, and promised more--and he had also been skilfully poisonedin such a fashion that he would get safely away from the premises but diebefore he got home. And when he was safe away, Chang Li had murdered ChenLi, and made off. So--as I still think--all our theories were correct, andthe only thing to do was to find Chang. "

But here Levendale paused, glanced at Stephen Purvis, and spread out hishands with a gesture which indicated failure and disappointment. Hisglance moved from Stephen Purvis to the police officials. 

"All no good!" he exclaimed. "It's useless to deny it. I have been inevery Chinese den and haunt in East London--I'm certain that Chang Li isnowhere down there. I have spent money like water--employed Chinese andEasterns on whom I could depend--there isn't a trace of him! And so--wegave up last night. Purvis and I--baffled. We've come to you policepeople--"

"You should have done that before, Mr. Levendale, " said the Inspectorseverely. "You haven't given us much credit, I think, and if you'd toldall this at first--"

Before the Inspector could say more, a constable tapped at the door andput his head into the room. His eyes sought Ayscough. 

"There's a young gentleman--foreigner--asking for you, Mr. Ayscough, " hesaid. "Wants to see you at once--name of Mr. Yada. "

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

YADA TAKES CHARGE

Ayscough had only time to give a warning look and a word to the othersbefore Mr. Mori Yada was ushered in. Every eye was turned on him as heentered--some of the men present looking at him with wonder, some withcuriosity, two, at any rate--Levendale and Stephen Purvis--with doubt. ButYada himself was to all outward appearance utterly indifferent to theglances thrown in his direction: it seemed to John Purdie, who wasremembering all he had heard the night before, that the young Japanesemedical student was a singularly cool and self-possessed hand. Yada, indeed, might have been walking in on an assemblage of personal friends, specially gathered together in his honour. Melky Rubinstein, who was alsowatching him closely, noticed at once that he had evidently made a verycareful toilet that morning. Yada's dark overcoat, thrown negligentlyopen, revealed a smart grey lounge suit; in one gloved hand he carried anew bowler hat, in the other a carefully rolled umbrella. He looked asprosperous and as severely in mode as if no mysteries and undergroundaffairs had power to touch him, and the ready smile with which he greetedAyscough was ingenuous and candid enough to disarm the most suspicious. 

"Good morning, Mr. Detective, " he began, as he crossed the threshold andlooked first at Ayscough and then at the ring of attentive faces. "I wantto speak to you on that little affair of last night, you know. I supposeyou are discussing it with these gentlemen? Well, perhaps I can now giveyou some information that will be useful. "

"Glad to hear anything, Mr. Yada, " said Ayscough, who was striving hard toconceal his surprise. "Anything that you can tell us. You've heardsomething during the night, then?"

Yada laughed pleasantly, showing his white teeth. He dropped into thechair which Ayscough pushed forward, and slowly drew off his gloves. 

"I assured myself of something last night--after you left me, " he said, with a knowing look. "I used your card to advantage, Mr. Detective. I wentto the mortuary. "

Ayscough contrived to signal to the Inspector to leave the talking to him. He put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, assumed an easyattitude as he leaned against the door, and looked speculatively at thenew comer. 

"Aye?--and what made you do that now, Mr. Yada?" he asked, half-carelessly. "A bit of curiosity, eh?"

"Not idle curiosity, Mr. Detective, " replied Yada. "I wanted to know, tomake certain, which of the two Chinamen it really was who was there--dead. I saw him. Now I know. Chen Li!"

"Well?" said Ayscough. 

Yada suddenly twisted round in his chair, and slowly glanced at thelistening men on either side of the desk. They were cool, bold, half-insolent eyes which received face after face, showing no recognition ofany until they encountered Melky Rubinstein's watchful countenance. And toMelky, Yada accorded a slight nod--and turned to Ayscough again. 

"Which, " he asked calmly, "which of these gentlemen is the owner of thediamond? Which is the one who has lost eighty thousand pounds in bank-notes? That is what I want to know before I say more. "

In the silence which followed upon Ayscough's obvious doubt aboutanswering this direct question, Levendale let out a sharp, half-irritableexclamation:

"In God's name!" he said, "who is this young man? What does he know aboutthe diamond and the money?"

Yada turned and faced his questioner--and suddenly smiling, thrust hishand in his breast pocket and drew out a card-case. With a polite bow hehanded a card in Levendale's direction. 

"Permit me, sir, " he said suavely. "My card. As for the rest, perhaps Mr. Detective here will tell you. "

"It's this way, you see, Mr. Levendale, " remarked Ayscough. "Acting oninformation received from Dr. Pittery, one of the junior house-surgeons atUniversity College Hospital, who told me that Mr. Yada was a fellow-student of those two Chinese, and a bit of a friend of theirs, I called onMr. Yada last night to make enquiries. And of course I had to tell himabout the missing property--though to be sure, that's news that's commonto everybody now--through the papers. And--what else have you to tell, Mr. Yada?"

But Yada was watching Levendale--who, on his part, was just as narrowlywatching Yada. The other men in the room watched these two--recognizing, as if by instinct, that from that moment matters lay between Levendale andYada, and not between Yada and Ayscough. They were mutually inspecting andappraising each other, and in spite of their impassive faces, it was plainthat each was wondering about his next move. 

It was Levendale who spoke first--spoke as if he and the young Japanesewere the only people in the room, as if nothing else mattered. He bentforward to Yada. 

"How much do you know?" he demanded. 

Yada showed his white teeth again. 

"A plain--and a wide question, Mr. Levendale!" he answered, with a laugh. "I see that you are anxious to enlist my services. Evidently, you believethat I do know something. But--you are not the owner of the diamond! Whichof these gentlemen is?"

Levendale made a half impatient gesture towards Stephen Purvis, who noddedat Yada but remained silent. 

"He is!" said Levendale, testily. "But you--can do your talking to me. Again--how much do you know in this matter?"

"Enough to make it worth your while to negotiate with me, " answered Yada. "Is that as plain as your question?"

"It's what I expected, " said Levendale. "You want to sell your knowledge. "

"Well?" assented Yada, "I am very sure you are willing to purchase. "

Once more that duel of the eyes--and to John Purdie, who prided himself onbeing a judge of expressions, it was evident that the younger man was morethan the equal of the older. It was Levendale who gave way--and when hetook his eyes off Yada, it was to turn to Stephen Purvis. 

Stephen Purvis nodded his head once more--and growled a little. 

"Make terms with him!" he muttered. "Case of have to, I reckon!"

Levendale turned once more to the Japanese, who smiled on him. 

"Look you here, Mr. Yada, " said Levendale, "I don't know who you arebeyond what I'm told--your card tells me nothing except that you live--lodge, I suppose--in Gower Street. You've got mixed up in this, somehow, and you've got knowledge to dispose of. Now, I don't buy unless I knowfirst what it is I'm buying. So--let's know what you've got to sell?"

Yada swept the room with a glance. 

"Before these gentlemen?" he asked. "In open market, eh?"

"They're all either police, or detectives, or concerned, " retortedLevendale. "There's no secret. I repeat--what have you got to sell?Specify it!"

Yada lifted his hands and began to check off points on the tips of hisfingers. 

"Three items, then, Mr. Levendale, " he replied cheerfully. "First--theknowledge of who has got the diamond and the money. Second--the knowledgeof where he is at this moment, and will be for some hours. Third--theknowledge of how you can successfully take him and recover your property. Three good, saleable items, I think--yes?"

Purdie watched carefully for some sign of greed or avarice in theinformer's wily countenance. To his surprise, he saw none. Instead, Yadaassumed an almost sanctimonious air. He seemed to consider matters--thoughhis answer was speedy. 

"I don't want to profit--unduly--by this affair, " he said. "At the sametime, from all I've heard, I'm rendering you and your friend a veryimportant service, and I think it only fair that I should be remunerated. Give me something towards the expenses of my medical education, Mr. Levendale: give me five hundred pounds. "

With the briefest exchange of glances with Stephen Purvis, Levendalepulled out a cheque-book, dashed off a cash cheque, and handed it over tothe Japanese, who slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. 

"Now--your information!" said Levendale. 

"To be sure, " replied Yada. "Very well. Chang Li has the diamond and themoney. And he is at this moment where he has been for some days, inhiding. He is in a secret room at a place called Pilmansey's Tea Rooms, inTottenham Court Road--a place much frequented by medical students from ourcollege. The fact of the case is, Mr. Policeman, and the rest of yougenerally, there is a secret opium den at Pilmansey's, though nobody knowsof it but a few frequenters. And there!--there you will find Chang Li. "

"You've seen him there?" demanded Levendale. 

"I saw him there during last night--I know him to be there--he will bethere, either until you take him, or until his arrangements are made forgetting out of this country, " answered Yada. 

Levendale jumped up, as if for instant action. But the Inspector quietlytapped him on the elbow. 

"He promised to tell you how to take him, Mr. Levendale, " he said. "Let'sknow all we can--we shall have to be in with you on this, you know. "

"Mr. Police-Inspector is right, " said Yada. "You will have to conduct whatyou call a raid. Now, do precisely what I tell you to do. Pilmansey's isan old-fashioned place, a very old house as regards its architecture, onthe right-hand side of Tottenham Court Road. Go there today--this mid-day--a little before one--when there are always plenty of customers. Go withplenty of your plain-clothes men, like Mr. Ayscough there. Drop in, don'tyou see, as if you were customers--let there be plenty of you, I repeat. There are two Pilmanseys--men--middle-aged, sly, smooth, crafty men. Whenyou are all there, take your own lines--close the place, the doors, if youlike--but get hold of the Pilmansey men, tell them you are police, insiston being taken to the top floor and shown their opium den. They willobject, they will lie, they will resist--you will use your own methods. But--in that opium den you will find Chang Li--and your property!"

He had been drawing on his gloves as he spoke, and now, picking up his hatand umbrella, Yada bowed politely to the circle and moved to the door. 

"You will excuse me, now?" he said. "I have an important lecture at themedical school which I must not miss. I shall be at Pilmansey's, myself, alittle before one--please oblige me by not taking any notice of me. I donot want to figure--actively--in your business. "

Then he was gone--and the rest of them were so deeply taken with the newswhich he had communicated that no one noticed that just before Yadafastened his last glove-button, Melky Rubinstein slipped from his cornerand glided quietly out of the room. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

PILMANSEY'S TEA ROOMS

Two hours later, it being then a quarter-to-one o'clock, Purdie andLauriston got out of a taxi-cab at the north-end of Tottenham Court Roadand walked down the right-hand side of that busy thoroughfare, keepingapparently careless but really vigilant eyes open for a first glimpse ofthe appointed rendezvous. But Pilmansey's Tea Rooms required littlesearching out. In the midst of the big modern warehouses, chiefly given upto furniture and upholstery, there stood at that time a block of oldproperty which was ancient even for London. The buildings were plainlyearly eighteenth century: old redbrick erections with narrow windows inthe fronts and dormer windows in the high, sloping roofs. Some of themwere already doomed to immediate dismantlement; the tenants had clearedout, there were hoardings raised to protect passers-by from fallingmasonry, and bills and posters on the threatened walls announced thatduring the rebuilding, business would be carried on as usual at some otherspecified address. But Pilmansey's, so far, remained untouched, and thetwo searchers saw that customers were going in and out, all unaware thatbefore evening their favourite resort for a light mid-day meal wouldattain a fame and notoriety not at all promised by its very ordinary andcommonplace exterior. 

"An excellent example of the truth of the old saying that you should neverjudge by appearances, Andie, my man!" remarked Purdie, as they took aquick view of the place. "Who'd imagine that crime, dark secrets, and allthe rest of it lies concealed behind this?--behind the promise of tea andmuffins, milk and buns! It's a queer world, this London!--you never knowwhat lies behind any single bit of the whole microcosm. But let's seewhat's to be seen inside. "

The first thing to be seen inside the ground floor room into which theystepped was the man from New Scotland Yard, who, in company with anothervery ordinary-looking individual was seated at a little table just insidethe entrance, leisurely consuming coffee and beef sandwiches. He glancedat the two men as if he had never seen them in his life, and they, preserving equally stolid expressions with credit if not with thedetective's ready and trained ability, passed further on--only torecognize Levendale and Stephen Purvis, who had found accommodation in aquiet corner half-way down the room. They, too, showed no signs ofrecognition, and Purdie, passing by them, steered his companion to anunoccupied table and bade him be seated. 

"Let's get our bearings, " he whispered as they dropped into their seats. "Looks as innocent and commonplace within as it appeared without, Andie. But use your eyes--it ought to make good copy for you, this. "

Lauriston glanced about him. The room in which they sat was a long, low-ceiling apartment, extending from the street door to a sort of bar-counterat the rear, beyond which was a smaller room that was evidently given upto store and serving purposes. On the counter were set out provisions--rounds of beef, hams, tongues, bread, cakes, confectionery; behind itstood two men whom the watchers at once set down as the proprietors. Youngwomen, neatly gowned in black and wearing white caps and aprons, flittedto and fro between the counter and the customers. As for the customersthey were of both sexes, and the larger proportion of them young. Therewas apparently no objection to smoking at Pilmansey's--a huge cloud ofblue smoke ascended from many cigarettes, and the scent of Turkish tobaccomingled with the fragrance of freshly-ground coffee. It was plain thatPilmansey's was the sort of place wherein you could get a good sandwich, good tea or coffee, smoke a cigarette or two, and idle away an hour inlight chatter with your friends between your morning and afternoonlabours. 

But Lauriston's attention was mainly directed to the two men who stoodbehind the bar-counter, superintending and directing their neatassistants. Sly, smooth, crafty men--so they had been described by Mr. Mori Yada: Lauriston's opinion coincided with that of the Japanese, onfirst, outer evidence and impression. They were middle-aged, plump men whomight be, and probably were, twins, favouring mutton chop whiskers, andgood linen and black neckcloths--they might have been strong, highly-respectable butlers. Each had his coat off; each wore a spotless linenapron; each wielded carving knives and forks; each was busy in carvingplates of ham or tongue or beef; each contrived, while thus engaged, tokeep his sharp, beady eyes on the doings in the room in front of thecounter. Evidently a well-to-do, old-established business, this, andhighly prosperous men who owned it: Lauriston wondered that they shouldrun any risks by hiding away a secret opium den somewhere on their ancientpremises. 

In the midst of their reflections one of the waitresses came to the tableat which the two friends sat: Lauriston quicker of wit than Purdie in suchmatters immediately ordered coffee and sandwiches and until they came, lighted a cigarette and pretended to be at ease, though he was inwardlyhighly excited. 

"It's as if one were waiting for an explosion to take place!" he mutteredto Purdie. "Even now I don't know what's going to happen. "

"Here's Ayscough, anyway, " said Purdie. "He looks as if nothing was aboutto happen. "

Ayscough, another man with him, was making his way unconcernedly down theshop. He passed the man from New Scotland Yard without so much as a wink:he ignored Levendale and Stephen Purvis; he stared blankly at Purdie andLauriston, and led his companion to two vacant seats near the counter. Andthey had only just dropped into them when in came Mr. Killick, with JohnPurvis and Guyler and slipped quietly into seats in the middle of theroom. Here then, said Lauriston to himself, were eleven men, all in asecret--and there were doubtless others amongst the company whom he didnot know. 

"But where's Melky Rubinstein?" he whispered suddenly. "I should havethought he'd have turned up--he's been so keen on finding things out. "

"There's time enough yet, " answered Purdie. "It's not one. I don't see theJap, either. But--here's the Inspector--done up in plain clothes. "

The Inspector came in with a man whom neither Purdie nor Lauriston hadever seen before--a quietly but well-dressed man about whom there was adistinct air of authority. They walked down the room to a table near thecounter, ordered coffee and lighted cigarettes--and the two youngScotsmen, watching them closely, saw that they took a careful look roundas if to ascertain the strength of their forces. And suddenly, asLauriston was eating his second sandwich, the Inspector rose, quietlywalked to the counter and bending over it, spoke to one of the white-aproned men behind. 

"The game's begun!" whispered Lauriston. "Look!"

But Purdie's eyes were already fixed on the Pilmanseys, whom he recognizedas important actors in the drama about to be played. One of them slightlytaller, slightly greyer than the other, was leaning forward to theInspector, and was evidently amazed at what was being said to him, for hestarted, glanced questioningly at his visitor, exchanged a hurried word ortwo with him and then turned to his brother. A second later, both men laiddown their great knives and forks, left their counter, and beckoned theInspector to follow them into a room at the rear of the shop. And theInspector in his turn, beckoned Ayscough with a mere glance, and Ayscoughin his, made an inviting movement to the rest of the party. 

"Come on!" said Purdie. "Let's hear what's happening. "

The proprietors of the tea-rooms had led the Inspector and the man who waswith him into what was evidently a private room--and when Lauriston andPurdie reached the door they were standing on the hearth rug, side byside, each in a very evident state of amazement, staring at a documentwhich the Inspector was displaying to them. They looked up from it toglance with annoyance, at the other men who came quietly and expectantlycrowding into the room. 

"More of your people?" asked the elder man, querulously. "Look here, youknow!--we don't see the need for all this fuss, not for your interruptingour business in this way! One or two of you, surely, would have beenenough without bringing a troop of people on to our premises--all this isunnecessary!"

"You'll allow us to be the best judge of what's necessary and what isn't, Mr. Pilmansey, " retorted the Inspector. "There'll be no fuss, no bother--needn't be, anyway, if you tell us what we want to know, and don't opposeus in what we've got power to do. Here's a warrant--granted on certaininformation--to search your premises. If you'll let us do that quietly. "

"But for what reason?" demanded the younger man. "Our premises, indeed!Been established here a good hundred years, and never a word against us. What do you want to search for?"

"I'll tell you that at once, " answered the Inspector. "We want a youngChinaman, one Chang Li, who, we are informed, is concealed here, and hasvaluable stolen property on him. Now, then, do you know anything abouthim? Is he here?"

The two men exchanged glances. For a moment they remained silent--then theelder man spoke, running his eye over the expectant faces watching him. 

"Before I say any more, " he answered, "I should just like to know whereyou got your information from?"

"No!" replied the Inspector, firmly. "I shan't tell you. But I'll tell youthis much--this Chang Li is wanted on a very serious charge as it is, andwe may charge him with something much more serious. We've positiveinformation that he's here--and I'm only giving you sound advice when Isay that if he is here, you'll do well to show us where he is. Now, come, Mr. Pilmansey, is he here?"

The elder Pilmansey shook his head--but the shake was more one of doubtthan of denial. 

"I can't say, " he answered. "He might be. "

"What's that mean?" demanded the Inspector. "Might be? Surely you knowwho's in your own house!"

"No!" said the elder man, "I can't say. It's this way--we've a certainnumber of foreigners come here. There are few--just a few--Chinese andJapanese--medical students, you know. Now, some time ago--a couple ofyears ago--some of them asked us if we couldn't let them have three orfour rooms at the top of the house in which to start a sort of little clubof their own, so that they could have a place for their meetings, youunderstand. They were all quiet, very respectable young fellows--so wedid. They have the top floor of this house. They furnished and fitted itup themselves. There's a separate entrance--at the side of the shop. Eachof them has a latch-key of his own. So they can go in and out as theylike--they never bother us. But, as a matter of fact, there are only fouror five of them who are members now--the others have all left. That's thereal truth--and I tell you I don't know if Mr. Chang Li might be up thereor not. We know nothing about what they do in their rooms--they're onlyour tenants. "

"Let me ask you one question, " said the Inspector, "Have either of youever been in those rooms since you let them to these people!"

"No!" answered the elder man. "Neither of us--at anytime!"

"Then, " commanded the Inspector, "I'll thank you to come up with us tothem--now!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHANG LI

Not without some grumbling as to waste of time and interference withbusiness, the Pilmansey brothers led the way to a side door which openedinto a passage that ran along the side of the shop and from whence astaircase rose to the upper regions of the house. The elder pointed, significantly, to the street door at the end. 

"You'll take notice that these young fellows I told you of get to therooms we let them through that?" he observed. "That door's always locked--they all have latch-keys to it. They never come through the shop--we'venothing to do with them, and we don't know anything about whatever theymay do in their rooms--all we're concerned with is that they pay theirrent and behave themselves. And quiet enough they've always been--we'vehad no reason to complain. "

"And, as they all have latch-keys, I suppose they can get into the placeat any hour of the day--or night?" suggested the Inspector. "There's nobar against them coming here at night?"

"They can come in--and go out--whenever they please, " answered the elderman. "I tell you we've nothing to do with them--except as theirlandlords. "

"Where do you live--yourselves?" asked the Inspector. "On these premises?"

"No, we don't, " replied the younger brother, who, of the two, had showedthe keenest, if most silent, resentment at the police proceedings. "Welive--elsewhere. This establishment is opened at eight in the morning, andclosed at seven in the evening. We're never here after seven--either ofus. "

"So that you never see anything of these foreigners at night-time?" askedthe Inspector. "Don't know what they do, I suppose?"

"We never see anything of 'em at any time, " said the elder brother. "Asyou see, this passage and staircase is outside the shop. We know nothingwhatever about them beyond what I've told you. "

"Well--take us up, and we'll see what we can find out, " commanded theInspector. "We're going to examine those rooms, Mr. Pilmansey, so we'llget it done at once. "

The intervening rooms between the lower and the top floors of the oldhouse appeared to be given up to stores--the open doors revealed casks, cases, barrels, piles of biscuit and confectionery boxes--nothing toconceal there, decided the lynx-eyed men who trooped up the dingy stairsafter the grumbling proprietors. But the door on the top floor was closed--and when Ayscough turned its handle he found it to be locked fromwithin. 

"They've keys of their own for that, too, " remarked the younger Pilmansey. "I don't see how you're going to get in, if there's nobody inside. "

"We're going in there whether there's anybody or not, " said the Inspector. "Knock, Ayscough!--knock loudly!"

The group of men gathered behind the leaders, and filling the whole of thelobby outside the closed door, waited, expectant and excited, in thesilence which followed on Ayscough's loud beating on the upper panel. Acouple of minutes went by: the detective knocked again, more insistently. And suddenly, and silently, the door was opened--first, an inch or two, then a little wider, and as Ayscough slipped a stoutly booted foot insidethe crack a yellow face, lighted by a pair of narrow-slitted dark eyes, looked out--and immediately vanished. 

"In with you!" said the Inspector. "Careful, now!"

Ayscough pushed the door open and walked in, the rest crowding on hisheels. And Purdie, who was one of the foremost to enter, was immediatelycognizant of two distinct odours--one, the scent of fragrant tea, theother of a certain heavy, narcotic something which presently overpoweredthe fragrance of the tea and left an acid and bitter taste. 

"Opium, " he whispered to Lauriston, who was close at his elbow. "Opium!Smell it?"

But Lauriston was more eyes than nose just then. He, like the rest of hiscompanions, was staring at the scene on which they had entered. The roomwas of a good size--evidently, from its sloping ceilings, part of theattic story of the old house. The walls were hung with soft, clinging, Oriental draperies and curtains; a few easy chairs of wickerwork, a fewsmall tables of like make, were disposed here and there: there was anabundance of rugs and cushions: in one corner a gas-stove was alight, andon it stood a kettle, singing merrily. 

The young man who had opened the door had retreated towards this stove;Purdie noticed that in one hand he held a small tea-pot. And in the left-hand corner, bent over a little table, and absorbed in their game, sat twoother young men, correctly attired in English clothes, but obviouslyChinese from their eyebrows to their toes, playing chess. 

The holder of the tea-pot cast a quick glance at the disturbance of thispeaceful scene, and set down his tea-pot; the chess-players looked up forone second, showed not the faintest sign of perturbation--and looked downagain. Then the man of the tea-pot spoke--one word. 

"Yes?" he said. 

"The fact is, Mister, " said the elder Pilmansey, "these are police-officers. They want one of your friends--Mr. Chang Li. "

The three occupants of the room appeared to pay no attention. The chess-players went on playing; the other man reached for a canister, andmechanically emptied tea out of it into his pot. 

"Shut and lock that door, Ayscough, " said the Inspector. "Let somebodystand by it. Now, " he continued, turning to the three Chinese, "is one ofyou gentlemen Mr. Chang Li?"

"No!" replied one of the chess-players. "Not one of us!"

"Is he here?" demanded the Inspector. Then seeing that he was to be met byOriental impassivity, he turned to the Pilmanseys. "What other rooms arethere here?" he asked. 

"Two, " answered the elder brother, pointing to the curtains at the rear ofthe room. "One there--the other there. Behind those hangings--two smallerrooms. "

The Inspector strode forward and tore the curtains aside. He flung openthe first of the doors--and started back, catching his breath. 

"Phew!" he said. 

The heavy, narcotic odour which Purdie had noticed at once on entering therooms came afresh, out of the newly-opened door, in a thick wave. And asthe rest of them crowded after the Inspector, they saw why. This was asmall room, hung like the first one with curiously-figured curtains, andlighted only by a sky-light, over which a square of blue stuff had beendraped. In the subdued life they saw that there was nothing in that roombut a lounge well fitted with soft cushions and pillows--and on it, hisspare figure wrapped in a loose gown, lay a young Chinaman, who, as theforemost advanced upon him, blinked in their wondering faces out of eyesthe pupils of which were still contracted. Near him lay an opium pipe--close by, on a tiny stand, the materials for more consumption of the drug. 

The man who had accompanied the Inspector in his entrance to the tea-shopstrode forward and seized the recumbent figure by the shoulder, shakinghim gently. 

"Now then!" he said, sharply, "wake up, my man! Are you Chang Li?"

The glazed eyes lifted themselves a little wonderingly; the dry lipsmoved. 

"Yes, " he muttered. "Chang Li--yes. You want me?"

"How long have you been here?" demanded the questioner. 

"How long--yes? Oh--I don't know. What do you want?" asked Chang Li. "Idon't know you. "

The tea-maker thrust his head inside the room. 

"He can't tell you anything, " he said, with a grin. "He has been--what youcall on the break-out--with opium--ever so many days. He has--attacks thatway. Takes a fit of it--just as some of your people take to the drink. He's coming out of it, now--and he'll be very, very unhappy tomorrow. "

The Inspector twisted round on the informant. 

"Look here!" he said. "Do you know how long he's been here--stupifyinghimself? Is it a day--or days?"

One of the chess-players lifted a stolid face. 

"He has been here--like that--several days, " he said. "It's useless tryingto do anything with him when he takes the fit--the craving, youunderstand?--into his head. If you want any information out of him, you'dbetter call again in a few hours. "

"Do you mean to tell me he's been here--like that--several days?" demandedthe Inspector. 

"The young man with the tea-pot grinned again. 

"He's never been at a class at the medical school since the 17th, " heannounced. "I know that--he's in some classes with me. He's been here--allthe time since then. "

The Inspector turned sharply on Ayscough. 

"The 17th!" he exclaimed. "And that affair was on the 18th! Then--"

Chang Li was fumbling in a pocket of his gown. He found something there, raised a hand to his lips, swallowed something. And in a few seconds, ashis eyes grew brighter, he turned a suspicious and sullen glance on thegroup which stood watching him. 

"What do you want?" he growled. "Who are you?"

"We want some information from you, " said the Inspector. "When did youlast see your brother, or friend, or whatever he is--Chen Li?"

Chang Li shook his head--it was obvious that he had no clear recollection. 

"Don't know, " he answered. "Perhaps just now--perhaps tomorrow--perhapsnot for a long time. "

"When were you last at home--in Maida Vale?" asked the Inspector. 

But Chang Li gave no answer to that beyond a frown, and it was evidentthat as his wits cleared his temper was becoming ugly. He began to lookround with more intelligence, scanning one face after another with growingdislike, and presently he muttered certain observations to himself which, though not in English, sounded anything but complimentary to those whowatched him. And Ayscough suddenly turned to the superior officials. 

"If this man's been here ever since the 17th, " he said, "he can't have hadanything to do with the affairs in Praed Street and Maida Vale! Supposing, now--I'm only supposing--that young Jap's been lying all the time?" Heturned again--this time on the two chess-players, who had now interruptedtheir game and were leaning back in their chairs, evidently amused at thebaffled faces of the searchers. "Here!" he said, "do you know one Yada--Mori Yada--a Japanese? Is he one of you?"

"Oh, yes!" answered one of the chess-players. "Yada, --yes! We know him--avery smart fellow, Yada. You know him--too?"

But before Ayscough could reply to this somewhat vexatious question, a manwho had been left in the tearooms came hurrying up the staircase and burstin upon them. He made straight for the Inspector. 

"Man from the office, sir, outside in a taxi!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "You're on the wrong track--you're to get to Multenius's shop in PraedStreet at once. The real man's there!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

THE JEW AND THE JAP

When Melky Rubinstein slipped quietly out of the police-station, hecrossed the street, and taking up a position just within a narrow alley onthe other side, set himself to watch the door which he had just quitted. There was a deep design in his mind, and he meant to carry it out--alone. 

Mr. Mori Yada, apparently as cool and unconcerned as ever, presentlytripped down the steps of the police-station and went leisurely off, swinging his neatly rolled umbrella. As long as he was within sight of thepolice-station windows he kept up the same gentle pace--but as soon as hehad turned the first corner his steps were quickened, and he made for aspot to which Melky had expected him to make--a cab-rank, on which two orthree taxi-cabs were drawn up. He had reached the first, and wasaddressing the driver, when Melky, who had kept a few yards in the rear, stole gently up to his side and tapped him on the shoulder. 

"Mister!" said Melky. "A word--in private!"

Yada turned on his interrupter with the swiftness of a snake, and for asecond his white teeth showed themselves in an unmistakable snarl, and asavage gleam came into his dark eyes. Both snarl and gleam passed asquickly as they had come, and the next instant he was smiling--as blandlyas ever. 

"Oh, yes!" he said. "It is you--how do you do? Perhaps you are going myway--I can give you a lift--Yes?"

Melky drew his man away a yard or two, and lowered his voice to a whisper. 

"Mister!" he said, with a note of deep confidence which made Yada look athim with a sudden sense of fear. "Mister!--I wouldn't go no way at all ifI was you--just now. You're in danger, mister--you shoved your head intothe lions' den when you walked in where I've just seen you! Deep, deep isthem fellows, mister!--they're having you on toast. I know where you'rethinking of going, mister, in that cab. Don't go--take my tip!"

"How do you know where I'm going?" demanded Yada. 

"I was looking over Levendale's shoulder when he wrote that bit of acheque, mister, " answered Melky, in his quietest accents. "You're off tohis bank to turn it into cash. And--if you walk into that bank--well, you'll never walk out again, alone! Mister!--they're going to collar youthere--there's a trap laid for you!"

Melky was watching Yada's face out of his own eye-corners, and he saw theolive-tinted skin pale a little, and the crafty eyes contract. And on theinstant he pursued his tactics and his advantage. He had purposely steeredthe Japanese into a more crowded part of the street, and now he edged himinto a bye-alley which led to a rookery of narrow bye-streets beyond. Hefelt that Yada was yielding--oppressed by a fear of the unknown. Butsuddenly Yada paused--drawing back from the hand which Melky had kept onhis arm. 

"What are you after?" he demanded. "What is your game, eh? You think toalarm me!--what do you want?"

"Nothing unreasonable, mister, " answered Melky. "You'll easily satisfy me. Game? Come, now, mister--I know your game! Bank first--to get some ready--then somewhere to pick up a bit of luggage--then, a railway station. That's it, ain't it, now? No blooming good, mister--they're ready for youthe minute you walk into that bank! If they don't take you then, they'llonly wait to follow you to the station. Mister!--you ain't a cat'schance!--you're done--if you don't make it worth my while to help you!See?"

Yada looked round, doubtfully. They had turned two or three corners bythat time, and were in a main street, which lay at the back of PraedStreet. He glanced at Melky's face--which suggested just then nothing butcunning and stratagem. 

"What can you do for me?" he asked. "How much do you want? You want money, eh?"

"Make it a hundred quid, mister, " said Melky. "Just a hundred of the best, and I'll put you where all the police in London won't find you for therest of today, and get you out of it at night in such a fashion thatyou'll be as safe as if you was at home. You won't never see your home inJapan, again, mister, if you don't depend on yours truly! And a hundredain't nothing--considering what you've got at stake. "

"I haven't a hundred pounds to give you, " answered Yada. "I have scarcelyany money but this cheque. "

"In course you ain't, mister!" agreed Melky. "I twigged your game straightoff--you only came there to the police-station to put yourself in fundsfor your journey! But that's all right!--you come along of me, and let meput you in safety--then you give me that cheque--I'll get it cashed in tenminutes without going to any banks--see? Friend o' mine hereabouts--he'llcash it at his bank close by--anybody'll cash a cheque o' Levendale's. Come on, now, mister. We're close to that little port o' refuge I'mtelling you about. "

The bluff was going down--Melky felt, as much as saw, that Yada wasswallowing it in buckets. And he slipped his hand within his companion'sarm, piloted him along the street, across Praed Street, round the back ofthe houses into the narrow passage which communicated with the rear of thelate Daniel Multenius's premises, and in at the little door which openedon the parlour wherein so many events had recently taken place. 

"Where are you taking me?" asked Yada, suspiciously, as they crossed thethreshold. 

"All serene, mister!" answered Melky, reassuringly. "Friend o' mine here--my cousin. All right--and all secure. You're as safe here as you will bein your grave, mister--s'elp me, you are! Zillah!"

Zillah walked into the parlour and justified Melky's supreme confidence inher by showing no surprise or embarrassment. She gave Yada the merestglance, and turned to Melky. 

"Bit o' business with this young gentleman, Zillah, " said Melky. "Thatlittle room, upstairs, now--what?" "Oh, all right!" said Zillah, indifferently. "You know your way--you'll be quiet enough there. "

Melky signed to Yada to follow him, and led the way up the stairs to thevery top of the house. He conducted the Japanese into the small room inwhich were some ancient moth-and-worm-eaten bits of furniture, an oldchest or two, and a plenitude of dust--and carefully closed the door whenhe and his captive had got inside. 

"Now, mister!" he said, "you're as safe here as you could be in any spotin the wide world. Let's get to business--and let's understand each other. You want that cheque turned into cash--you want to get out of Londontonight? All right--then hand over your check and keep quiet till I comeback. Is there anything else now--any bit of luggage you want?"

"You do all this if I pay you one hundred pounds?" asked Yada. 

"That'll do me, mister, " answered Melky. "I'm a poor fellow, d'ye see?--Idon't pick up a hundred quid every day, I assure you! So if there isanything--"

"A suit-case--at the luggage office at Oxford Circus Tube, " said Yada. "Imust have it--papers, you understand. If you will get me that--"

"Give me the ticket--and that cheque, " said Melky. He slipped the two bitsof paper into his pocket, and made for the door. "I'll turn the keyoutside, " he said. "You'll be safer. Make yourself comfortable, mister--I'll be back in an hour with the money and the goods. "

Two minutes later Melky confronted Zillah in the parlour and grinned ather. Zillah regarded him suspiciously. 

"What's this, Melky?" she demanded. "What're you up to?"

"Zillah!" said Melky, "you'll be proud of your cousin, Melky Rubinstein, before ever it's dinner-time--you will do, Zillah! And in the meantime, keep your counsel, Zillah, while he fetches a nice large policeman. "

"Is that Japanese locked in that little room?" asked Zillah. 

Melky tapped the side of his nose, and without a word looked out into thestreet. A policeman, large enough for all practical purposes, was loungingalong the side-walk; another, equally bulky, was looking into a shop-window twenty yards away across the street. Within a couple of minutesMelky had both in the back-parlour and was giving them and Zillah a swiftbut particular account of his schemes. 

"You're sure you're right, Melky?" asked Zillah. "You're not making anymistake?"

"Mistake!" exclaimed Melky, satirically. "You'll see about that in aminute! Now, " he added, turning to the policemen, "you come quietly up--and do exactly what I've told you. We'll soon know about mistakes, Zillah!"

Yada, left to himself, had spent his time in gazing out of the dirtywindow of his prison. There was not much of a prospect. The windowcommanded the various backyards of that quarter. As if to consider anypossible chance of escape, he looked out. There was a projection beneathhim, a convenient water-pipe--he might make a perilous descent, if needarose. But, somehow, he believed in that little Jew: he believed, muchmore, in the little Jew's greed for a hundred pounds of ready money. Thelittle Jew with the cunning smile had seen his chance of making a quietpenny, and had taken it--it was all right, said Yada, all right. And yet, there was one horrible thought--supposing, now that Melky had got thecheque, that he cashed it and made off with all the money, never toreturn?

On top of that thought, Melky did return--much sooner than Yada hadexpected. He opened the door and beckoned the prisoner out into the darklobby at the top of the stairs. 

"Come here a minute, mister, " said Melky, invitingly. "Just a word!"

Yada, all unsuspecting, stepped out--and found his arms firmly gripped bytwo bulky policemen. The policemen were very quiet--but Melky laughedgleefully while Yada screamed and cursed him. And while he laughed Melkywent through his prisoner's pockets in a knowing and skilful fashion, andwhen he had found what he expected to find, he made his helpers lock Yadaup again, and taking them downstairs to the parlour laid his discoverieson the table before them and Zillah. There was a great orange-yellowdiamond in various folds of tissue-paper, and a thick wad of bank-notes, with an indiarubber band round them. 

These valuables lay, carelessly displayed, on the table when the partyfrom Pilmansey's Tea Rooms came tumbling into the shop and the parlour, anhour later. Melky was calmly smoking a cigar--and he went on smoking it ashe led the Inspector and his men upstairs to the prisoner. He could notdeprive himself of the pleasure of a dig at Ayscough. 

"Went one better than you again, Mr. Ayscough, " he said, as he laid hishand on the key of the locked room. "Now if I hadn't seen through my younggentleman--"

But there, as Melky threw open the door, his words of assurance came to anend. His face dropped as he stared into an empty room. Yada had risked hisneck, and gone down the water-pipe. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

THE DIAMOND NECKLACE

For the better part of a fortnight the sleuth-hounds of New Scotland Yardhunted for Mr. Mori Yada in all the likely and unlikely places in Londonand sent out their enquiries much further afield. They failed to find him. One small clue they got, with little difficulty. After the hue-and-cry wasfairly out, an Edgware Road pawnbroker came forward and informed thepolice that at two o'clock, or thereabouts, on the afternoon of the day onwhich Yada had made his escape from the window, a young Japanese gentlemanwho gave his name as Mr. Motono and his address at a small hotel close byand who volunteered the explanation that he was temporarily short of cashuntil a remittance arrived, had borrowed five pounds from him on a pearltie-pin which he had drawn from his cravat. That was Yada, without adoubt--but from that point Yada vanished. 

But hunger is the cleverest detective, and at the end of the fortnight, certain officials of the Japanese embassy in London found themselveslistening to a strange tale from the fugitive, who had come to the end ofhis loan, had nowhere to turn and no one but the representatives of hisnation to whom he could appeal. Yada told a strange tale--and all thestranger because, as the police officials who were called in to hear itanew recognized that there was probably some truth in it. It amounted, when all was heard, to this--Yada was willing to confess that for a fewdays he had been a successful thief, but he stoutly denied that he was amurderer. 

This was his story:--On the 18th November, in the evening, he was at theclub which housed itself in Pilmansey's attic. There he saw Chang Li, who, according to the other members who were there, was beginning one of hisperiodic fits of opium smoking, and had been in the inner room, stupifyinghimself, since the previous day. Yada knew that it was highly necessarythat Chang Li should be in attendance at certain classes at the medicalschool during the next few days, and tried to rouse him out of hisdebauch, with no result. Next day, the 19th, he went to Pilmansey's again--Chang Li was still in the realms of bliss and likely to stop there untilhe had had enough of them. For two days nobody at the club nor at theschool had seen Chen Li--and Chen Li was the only person who could doanything with Chang. So, late that night of the 19th November, Yada wentup to Maida Vale, taking Chang Li's keys with him. He admitted himself togarden and house and found the house empty. But just as he was enteringthe front door he heard the voice of Chen Li at the garden gate; he alsoheard the voice of an Englishman. Also he caught something of what thatEnglishman said. He was telling Chen Li that he'd better take him, theEnglishman, inside, and settle with him--or things would be all the worse. And at that, he, Yada, had slipped into the house, quietly closed thefront door behind him, gone into the front room, hidden himself behind acurtain and waited. 

Into that front room, Chen Li had presently conducted a man. He was, saidYada, a low-class Englishman--what is called a Cockney. He had begun tothreaten Chen Li at once. He told his tale. He was, said this fellow, nextdoor neighbour to Mr. Daniel Multenius, in Praed Street, Chen Li'slandlord: his name, if Chen Li wanted to know it, was Parslett, fruitierand green-grocer, and it was there, bold as brass, over his shop-door, forhim or anybody to look at. He had a side-door to his house: that side-doorwas exactly opposite a side-door in Mr. Multenius's house, opening intohis back-parlour. Now, the previous afternoon, he, Parslett, had had aconsignment of very fine mushrooms sent in--rare things at that time ofyear--and knowing that the old man had a great taste for them and didn'tmind what price he paid, he stepped across with a dish of them to tempthim. He found Mr. Multenius in his parlour--he was counting a lot of bank-notes--they must, said Parslett, have represented a large sum. The old manbade him leave the mushrooms, said he'd send him the money acrosspresently, and motioned him out. Parslett put the dish of mushrooms asideon a chiffonier and went away. Somewhat later, chancing to be at his frontdoor and looking out into the street, he saw Chen Li open the door ofMultenius's shop and go swiftly away. Half-an-hour after that he heardthat something had happened at Multenius's--later in the evening he hearddefinitely that the old man had been assaulted under circumstances whichpointed to murder for the sake of robbery. And then he, Parslett, now puttwo and two together--and had fixed on Chen Li as the culprit. And now--how much, was Chen Li going to pay for silence?

According to Yada, Chen Li had had little to say--his chief anxiety, indeed, had been to find out what the man wanted. Parslett was definiteenough about that. He wanted a thousand pounds--and he wanted it in gold, and as much of it as Chen Li could hand out there and then. He refused tobelieve that Chen Li hadn't gold in considerable quantity somewhere about--he must, said Parslett, have changed some of those notes since he hadstolen them the previous day. Chen Li protested that he had but some fiftyor sixty pounds in gold available--but he promised to have the rest of thethousand ready on the following evening. Finally, he handed Parslett fiftypounds, arranged that he should call the next night--and then invited himto take a drink. Parslett pocketed the money and accepted the invitation--and Yada, from his hiding-place, saw Chen Li go to the sideboard, mixwhisky and soda and pour into the mixture a few drops from a phial whichhe took from his waistcoat pocket. Parslett drank off the contents of theglass--and Chen Li went down to the gate with him. 

Yada followed to the front door and, through a slight opening, watched. The garden was fairly well lighted by the moon, which had recently risen. He saw Chen Li let the man out. He saw him turn from the gate and slowlycome back towards the house. And then he saw something else--the suddenspring, from behind a big laurel bush, of a man--a short-statured, slight-figured man, who leapt on Chen Li with the agility of a panther. He sawthe flash of a knife in the moonlight--he heard a muffled cry, andstartled groan--and saw Chen Li pitch forward and lie evidently lifeless, where he fell. He saw the assailant stoop, seize his victim by theshoulders and drag him behind the shrubbery. Then, without further delay, the murderer hurried to the gate. Evidently assured himself that there wasno one about, let himself out, and was gone. 

By all the solemn oaths that he could think of, Yada swore that this wastrue. Of another thing he was certain--the murderer was a Chinese. 

Now began his own career of crime. He was just then very hard up. He hadspent much more than his allowance--he was in debt at his lodgings andelsewhere. Somewhere, he felt sure, there was, in that house, the moneywhich Chen Li had evidently stolen from old Multenius. He immediately setto work to find it. But he had no difficulty--the bank-notes were in thedrawer from which he had seen Chen Li take the gold which he had given tothe blackmailer, Parslett. He hurriedly transferred them to his ownpocket, and got away from the house by the door at the back of the garden--and it was not until late that night, in the privacy of his own rooms, that he found he had nearly eighty thousand pounds in his possession. 

For some days, said Yada, he was at a loss what to do with his booty. Hewas afraid of attempting to change five hundred pound notes. He madecautious enquiries as to how that could be done--and he began to thinkthat the notes were so much waste paper to him. And then Ayscough calledon him--and for the first time, he heard the story of the orange-yellowdiamond. 

That gave him an idea. He had a very accurate knowledge of Chinese habitsand characteristics, and he felt sure that Chen Li would have hidden thatdiamond in his pig-tail. So he took advantage of his possession of thedetective's card to go to the mortuary, to get a minute or two alone withthe body, and to slip his hand underneath the dead man's silk cap. Therehe found the diamond--and he knew that whether the bank-notes were to beof any value to him or not, the diamond would be if he could only escapeto the Continent. 

But--he wanted funds; wanted them badly. He thereupon conceived the boldidea of getting a reward for his knowledge. He went to the police-stationwith a merely modest motive in his mind--fifty pounds would carry him toVienna, where he knew how to dispose of the diamond at once, with noquestions asked. But when he found the owners of the diamond and the bank-notes present he decided to play for higher stakes. He got what he askedfor--and, if it had not been for that little Jew, he said malevolently, hewould have got out of England that eventful afternoon. But--it was not sowritten--and the game was up. Only--what he had said was true. Now letthem do what they could for him--but let them search for Chen Li'smurderer. 

 * * * * *

The folk who had been chiefly concerned about the orange-yellow diamondand the eighty thousand pounds' worth of Bank of England notes were not somuch troubled about proving the truth of Yada's strange story as Yadahimself was--the main point to them was that they had recovered theirproperty. Naturally they felt remarkably grateful to Melky Rubinstein forhis astuteness in circumventing Yada at what might have been the lastmoment. And one day, at that portion of it when business was slack andeverybody was feeling comfortable after dinner, Melky called on Mrs. Goldmark and became confidentially closeted with her in a little parlourbehind her establishment which she kept sacred to herself. Mrs. Goldmark, who had quick eyes, noticed that Melky was wearing his best clothes, and anew silk hat, and new gloves, and had put his feet into patent-leatherboots which she secretly and sympathizingly--felt to be at least a sizetoo small for him. He sighed as he sat near her on the sofa--and Mrs. Goldmark looked at him with concern. 

"Such a time you have lately, Mr. Rubinstein, don't you?" she saidfeelingly. "Such worries--such troubles! And the risk you ran taking thatwicked young man all by yourself--so brave of you! You'd ought to have oneof these medals what they give to folks, so!"

"You think that?" responded Melky, brightening suspiciously. "Oh, Mrs. Goldmark, your words is like wine--all my life I been wishing somebeautiful woman would say them things to me! Now I feel like I was twofoot taller, Mrs. Goldmark! But I don't want no medals--not me. Mr. Levendale and Mr. Purvis, they came to me and say they must give me areward--handsome reward, you understand, for getting back their goods. SoI say no--I won't have nothing for myself--nothing. But, I say, just so--there is one that should be rewarded. Mrs. Goldmark!--do you know what? Ithink of you when I say that!"

Mrs. Goldmark uttered a feeble scream, clasped her hands, and stared atMelky out of her melting eyes. 

"Me?" she exclaimed. "Why--I ain't done nothing, Mr. Rubinstein!"

"Listen to me, " persisted Melky. "What I says to Mr. Levendale is thishere--if Mrs. Goldmark hadn't had her eating establishment, and if Mr. Purvis hadn't gone into it to eat a chop and to drop his platinumsolitaire on the table, and if Mrs. Goldmark hadn't taken care of thatplatinum solitaire, and if things hadn't sprung from it--eh, what then, Ishould like to know? So Mrs. Goldmark is entitled to whatever littlepresent there is!--that's how I put it, Mrs. Goldmark. And Mr. Levendaleand Mr. Purvis, they agreed with me--and oh, Mrs. Goldmark, ain't yougoing to be nice and let me put this round your beautiful neck?"

Mrs. Goldmark screamed again as Melky produced a diamond necklace, lyingin a blue velvet bed in a fine morocco case. The glitter of the diamondsturned both beholders hoarse with emotion. 

"Do you know what, Mrs. Goldmark!" whispered Melky. "It cost a thousandguineas--and no error! Now you bend your lovely head, and I puts it onyou--oh, ain't you more beautiful than the Queen of Sheba! And ain't youMelky's queen, Mrs. Goldmark--say you was!"

"Lor', Mr. Rubinstein!" said Mrs. Goldmark, coyly. "It's as if you wasproposing to me!"

"Why, ain't I?" exclaimed Melky, gathering courage. "Don't you see I'm inall my best clothes? Ain't it nothing but weddings, just now? There's Mr. Lauriston a-going to marry Zillah, and Mr. Purdie's a-fixing it up withLevendale's governess, and--oh, Mrs. Goldmark, ain't I worshipped youevery time I come to eat my dinner in your eating house? Ain't you theloveliest woman in all Paddington. Say the word, Mrs. Goldmark--don't yousee I'm like as if I was that hungry I could eat you?"

Then Mrs. Goldmark said the word--and presently escaped from Melky'sembrace to look at herself and her necklace in the mirror. 

THE END