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Updated: June 25, 2025
Purdie followed Levendale into a small room on the right of the hall a room in which the remains of a cold, evidently impromptu supper lay on a table lighted by a shaded lamp. Two men had been partaking of that supper, but Levendale was alone. He gave his visitor another queer smile, and pointed, first to a chair and then to a decanter. "Sit down take a drink," he said. "This is a queer meeting!
Spencer Levendale nor the pretty governess that day. Mr. Levendale, said the butler, was on business in the city and was to dine out that evening: Miss Bennett had taken the two children to see a relative of theirs at Hounslow, and would not return until late. So Purdie, having pencilled his London address on them, left cards for Mr.
The chauffeur had him in view 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 the entrance to the bridge, some five minutes or so then the stranger went across the bridge in the direction of Kensington, and Levendale returned to his car. Now, in my opinion, that strange man was this Purvis we've heard of.
"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 such things with two men here in London Multenius and Levendale he knew both of them. He'd sent the diamond on in advance to Multenius, by ordinary registered post, rather than run the risk of carrying it himself."
Levendale about that advertisement for his book," he remarked, "he said he'd never heard of Daniel Multenius. That's a fact, mister!" "Had Mr. Multenius any private business relations of which he didn't tell you?" asked Purdie, turning to Zillah. "He might have had," admitted Zillah. "He was out a good deal. I don't know what he might do when he went out. He was close.
He was evidently a man of position and of character; a quiet-mannered, self-possessed man of business, not given to wasting words. He glanced at the card which Ayscough 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 appears in all this morning's newspapers," he said.
Ayscough answered this request by going to the door and leaning against it, and Levendale took a chair by the side of the desk and looked round at an expectant audience. "It's a queer and, in some respects, an involved story," he said, "but I shall contrive to make matters plain to you before I've finished. I shall have to go back a good many years to a time when, as Mr.
Purdie looked at Melky and shook his head. "That's not Levendale!" he said, "Clean-shaven! Levendale's bearded and mustached and I should say a bit vain of his beard. Um! you're dead certain, Mrs. Goldmark, about the other man?" "As that I tell you this," insisted Mrs. Goldmark. "I see him as plain as what I see him when he calls at my establishment and leaves his jewellery on my table.
Levendale by sight?" asked Purdie. "Often, since all this begins, I ask myself that question," said Mrs. Goldmark, "him being, so to speak, a neighbour. No, that I do not, not being able to say he was ever pointed out to me." "Well, you can describe the man who pulled out his latch-key and opened the door, anyhow," remarked Purdie. "You took a good look at him, I suppose!"
Levendale, is evidently very anxious 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.
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