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Updated: June 11, 2025
"What're you talking about, John?" demanded Lauriston. "You've some idea in that head of yours!" "The idea that you and that girl are in love with each other!" said Purdie with a sly look. "I'll not deny that!" asserted Lauriston, with an ingenuous blush. "We are!"
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, "though it's pretty well known in the house already. The fact is, sir, Mr. Levendale's missing!" "Missing?" exclaimed Purdie. "Since when?"
Purdie and Lauriston, in fact, had immediately been struck by the similarity of the names Molteno and Multenius, and they exchanged another look which their host detected and knew to convey a meaning. He leaned forward in his chair. "Now, that strikes you both!" he said. "What's all this about? Better give me your confidence."
A nurse appeared, sorted his pillow, chatted for a moment, then went and drew down the blinds against the afternoon sun. And presently Macgregor dropped into a doze. He awoke to what seemed a dream. Of all people, Aunt Purdie was seated at his bedside. In a hesitating way, quite unlike her, she put out her hand, laid it on his and patted gently. 'What's up? he exclaimed in astonishment.
"There's a strange affair occurred during the night, Mr. Purdie," said Ayscough, when they were alone. "And it's my opinion it's connected with this Multenius affair." "What is it?" asked Purdie. "This," replied Ayscough. "A Praed Street tradesman in a small way was picked up, dying, in a quiet street off Maida Vale, at twelve o'clock last night, and he died soon afterwards.
Christina stared. 'I got leave yesterday mornin' an' catched the first train to Aberdeen 'Oh! . . . What on earth took you to Aberdeen? 'Christina, he exclaimed, 'dinna speak like that! I gaed to Aberdeen because I couldna thole it ony mair. 'Thole what? 'Oh, ye ken! . . . Maybe I had nae business to be vexed at ye for gaun wi' Aunt Purdie, but oh, Christina dear, I wisht ye hadna gaed.
He had finished breakfast next morning and was thinking of strolling round to Melky Rubinstein's lodgings, to hear if any news had come from Lauriston, when a waiter brought him Ayscough's card, saying that its presenter was waiting for him in the smoking-room. Purdie went there at once: the detective, who looked unusually grave and thoughtful, drew him aside into a quiet part of the room.
The excellent major looked harassed. "Suppose we all step up to the house," he suggested. "Why, you're not going, man?" he objected, for Kerr had fallen back a step, and, with lifted hat and balanced cane, was signaling his farewells. "Do let us go up to the house," said Clara. "And Mrs. Purdie, won't you drive up with me? Flora wants to walk." Flora stood up.
They, too, showed no signs of recognition, and Purdie, passing by them, steered his companion to an unoccupied 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.
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," continued Purdie.
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