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. THE
ORAN GE-YELLOW
DIAMOND
BY
J. s. FLETCHER
AUTHOR OF
THB mnmn mmm MURDER,
IXTERIOR TO 'm12 EVIDENCE,
'mn BORGIA CABINET, Etc.


GROSSET 8: DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK


COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
J. S. FLETCHER
Published January, 1921
Second Printing February, 1981
Third Printing April, 1981
Fourth Printing, February, 192$
PBINTID IN TH! UNITID STATIS OI‘ AMER.IOL


€E5FZ3
 -.
JAN I 6 '41

00
II
III
<1
VI
VII
VIII
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVHI
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
.CONTENTS
THE PRETTY PAWNBROKEB, 9
Mns. GoLDMARK’s EATING—HOUSE, 17
THE DEAD MAN, 25
THE PLATINUM SQLITAIRE, 33
THE Two LETTERs, 41
THE S1>ANIsH MANUSCRIPT, 49
THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT, 57
THE INQUEsT, 65
WHosE WERE THosE Rmes 1, 73
MELKY INTERvENEs, 81
THE BACK DooR, 89
THE FRIEND FROM PEEBLES, 97
THE CALL FOB HELP, 105
THE PRIVATE LABORATORY, 113
CONFERENCE, 121
THE DETEcTIvE CALLs, 129
WHAT THE LAM1>s sHoNE ON, 137
MR. STUYVFSANT GUYLER, 145
PURDIE STANDs FIRM, 153 . .
THE PARSLET1‘ AFFAIR, 161
WHAT MANNER or DEATH1, 169
MR. KILLICK GOES BACK, 177
MR. KILLIcK’s OPINION, 185
THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMDND, 193-
THE DEAD MAN’s PROPERTY, 201
949200


THE
ORANGE -YELLOW
DIAMOND





10 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
who sit about the doorsteps, they look as if the grass, the
trees, the flowers, and the sunlight of the adjaoent Ken-
sington Gardens were as far away as the Desert of Gobi.
Within this slice of the town, indeed, life is lived, as it
were, in a stagnant backwash, which nothing and nobody
can stir.
In an upper room of one of the more respectable
houses in one of the somewhat superior streets of this
neighbourhood, a young man stood looking out of the
window one November afternoon. It was then five
o’clock, and the darkness was coming: all day a gentle,
never-ceasing rain had been bringing 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 then found himself.
The mean street beneath him was not more empty of
cheerfulness 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 other coppers, had
gone on a mere mouthful of food and drink: since their
disappearance he had eaten nothing. And he was now
growing faint with hunger—and to add to his pains,
some one, downstairs, was cooking herrings. The
smell of the frying-pan nearly drove him ravenous.
He turned from the window presently and looked
round at the small room behind him. It was a poor,
ill-furnished pla»ce——cleanliness, though of a dingy sort,
its only recommendation. There was a bed, and a
washstand, and a chest of drawers, and a couple of
chairs—a few shillings would have purchased the lot


THE PRETTY PAWNBROKER 11
at any second-hand dealer’s. In a corner stood the
oecupant’s trunk—all the property he had in the world
was in it, save a few books which were carefully ranged
on the chimney-piece, and certain writing materials
that lay on a small table. A sharp eye, glancing at the
books and the writing materials, and at a few sheets of
manuscript scattered on the blotting-pad, would have
been quick to see that here was the old tale, once more
being lived out, of the literary aspirant who, at the
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 en-
trance of a woman—the sort 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 anxiety now as she glanced at her
lodger—who, on his part, flushed all over his handsome
young face with conscious embarrassment. He knew
very well what the woman wanted—and he was power-
less to respond to her appeal.
“Mr. Lauriston,” she said in a half whisper, “when
do you think. yon’ll be able to let me have a bit of
money? It ’s going on for six weeks now, you know,
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 I get hold of it! I told you


12 THE ORANGE-YELLOVV DIAMOND
the other day I’d sold two stories—-well, I’ve asked to
be paid for them at once, and the cheque might be
here by any post. And I’m expecting another cheque,
too—I’m surprised they aren’t both here by this. The
minute they arrive, I’ll settle with you. I’m wanting
money myself—as badly as you are!”
“I know that, Mr. Lauriston,” assented Mrs.
Flitwick, “and I wouldn’t bother you if I wasn’t
right pressed, myself. But there ’s the landlord at me—
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 of ready 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. “Any pawnbroker—and there’s plenty
of ’em, I’m sure !—’ud lend you a few pounds
on that. Perhaps you’ve never had occasion to go to a
pawnbroker before? No ?—well, and I hadn’t once
upon a time, but I’ve had to, whether or no, since I
came to letting lodgings, and if I’d as good a watch as
yours is, I wouldn’t go without money in my pocket!
If you’ve money coming in, you can always get your
goods back—and I should be thankful for something,
Mr. Lauriston, if it was but a couple o’ pounds. My
landlord’s that 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


14: THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“I say!” he said. “I—the fact is, I’m a bit hard
up—tempo1-arily, you know—and I want to borrow
some money on my watch. Could you tell me where
there ’s a respectable pawnbroker’s?”
Melky—known to every one in the house by that
familiar substitute for his more pretentious name-
turned up the gas-jet and then held out a slender, long-
fingered hand. “Let’s look at the watch,” he said
eurtly, in a soft, lisping voice. “I know more than
a bit about watches, mister.”
Lauriston handed the watch over and watched Melky
inquisitively as he looked 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 here bit
of property, would you, Mr. Lauriston?” he enquired,
almost wheedlingly. “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 you four-ten! Spot cash,
mind you!” -
“No!” said Lauriston. “It belonged to my father.
I don’t want to sell—I want to borrow.”
Melky pushed the watch back into its owner’s hand.
“You go round into Praed Street, mister,” he said,
in business-like fashion. “You’ll see a shop there with
Daniel Multenius over it. He ’s a relation 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.”


THE PRETTY PAWNBROKER 15
Lauriston laughed, and went down the stairs, and out
into the dismal evening. It was only a step round to
Praed Street, and within five minutes of leaving Melky
he was looking into Daniel Multenius’s window. He
remembered now that he had often looked into it,
without noticing the odd name above it. It was a
window in which there were all sorts of curious things,
behind a grille of iron bars, from diamonds and pearls
to old ivory and odds and ends of bric-arbrac. A
collector of curiosities would have found material in
that window to delay him for half-an-hour—but
Lauriston only gave one glance at it before hastening
down a dark side-passage to a door, over which
was a faintly-illuminated sign, showing the words:
PLEDGE OFFICE.
He pushed open that door and found himself before
several small, boxed-off compartments, each just big
enough to contain one person. They were all empty
at that moment; he entered one, and seeing nobody
about, tapped gently on the counter. He expected to
see some ancient and Hebraic figure present itself—
instead, light steps came from some recess of the shop,
and Lauriston found himself gazing in surprise at a
young and eminently pretty girl, who carried some
. fancy needle-work in her hand, and looked over it at
him out of a pair of large, black eyes. For a moment
the two gazed 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.”


16 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Mr. Multenius is out,” answered the girl. “But
I’m in charge—if it ’s business.”
She was quietly eyeing Lauriston over, and she saw
his fresh-complexioned face colour vividly.
“I do my grandfather’s business when he ’s out,” she
continued. “Do you want to borrow some money?”
Lauriston pulled out the watch, with more blushes,
and pushed it towards her.
“That’s just it,” he answered. “I want to borrow
money on that. A friend of mine—fellow-lodger-
Mr. Melky Rubinstein—said I could borrow something
here. That ’s a real good watch, you know.”
The girl glanced at her customer with a swift and
almost whimsical recognition of his innocence, and
almost carelessly picked up the watch.
“Oh, Melky sent you here, did he?” she said, with a
smile. “I see!” She looked the watch over, and
snapped open the case. Then she glanced at Lauriston.
“How much do you want on this?” she asked.


CHAPTER TWO
Mas. ooLDMARx’s EATING-HOUSE
Lauriston thrust his hands in his pockets and looked
at the girl in sheer perplexity. She was a very pretty,
dark girl, nearly as tall as himself, slender and lissom
of figure, and decidedly attractive. There was evident
sense of fun and humour in her eyes, and about the
corners of her lips: he suddenly 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 a few pounds?”
The girl picked up the watch .again, and again
examined it.
“I’11 lend you three pounds fifteen on it,” she said
suddenly, in business-like tones. “That do?”
“Thank you,” replied Lauriston. “That’ll do very
well—I’m much obliged. I suppose I can have it back
any time.”
“Any time you bring the money, and pay the
interest,” replied the girl. “Within twelve calendar
17


18 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
!7
months and seven days. She picked up a pen and
began 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 as quickly looked down again.
“Never mind!” she said. “I’ll take it out of the
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 the rear.
“We’ve all sorts of family heirlooms in there,” she
observed. “Make yourself easy.”
Lauriston thanked her, raised his hat, and turned
away—unwillingly. He would have liked an excuse to
stop longer—and ‘he did not quite know why. But he
could think of none, so he went—w1'th a backward look
when he got to the door. The pretty pawnbroker smiled
and nodded. And the next moment he was out in the
street, with money in his pocket, and a strange sense
of relief, which was mingled with one of surprise. For
he had lived for the previous four days on a two-shilling
piece—and there all the time, close by him, had been a
place where you, could borrow money, easily and very
pleasantly.
His first thought was to hurry to his lodgings and
pay his landlady. He owed her six weeks’ rent, at ten


MRS. GOLDMARK’S EATING-HOUSE 19
shillings a week—that would take three pounds out of
the money he had just received. But he would still
have over fourteen shillings to be going on with—and
surely those expected letters would come within the
next few postal deliveries. He had asked the editor
who had taken two short stories from him to let him
have a cheque for them, and in his inexperience had
expected to see it arrive by return of post. Also he had
put his pride in his pocket, and had written a long letter
to his old schoolmate, John Purdie, in far-away Scot-
land, 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, he was 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 the
expected letters came, he had money—and when you
have lived for four days on two shillings, fourteen
shillings seems a small fortune. Certainly, within the
last half-hour, life had taken on a roseate tinge—all due
to a visit to the pawnshop.
Hurrying back along Praed Street, Lauriston’s steps
were suddenly arrested. He found himself uncon-
sciously hurrying by an old-fashioned eating-house, from
whence came an appetizing odour of cooking food. He
remembered then that he had eaten nothing for four-
and-twenty hours. His landlady supplied him with
nothing: ever since he had gone to her he had done his
own catering, going out for his meals. The last meal,
on the previous evening, had been a glass of milk and


20 THE ORAN GE-YELLOW DIAMOND
a stale, though sizable bun, and now he felt literally
ravenous. It was only by an efiort that he could force
himself to pass the eating-house; once beyond its door,
he ran, ran until he reached his lodgings and slipped
three sovereigns into Mrs. Flitwick’s hands.
“That’ll make us right to this week end, Mrs-
Flitwick,” he said. “Put the receipt 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,”
exclaimed Lauriston. “Quite easy, I assure you!”
He ran out of the house again and back to where he
knew there was food. He was only one-and-twenty, a
well-built lad, with a healthy appetite, which, until
very recently, had always been satisfied, and just then
he was feeling that unless he ate and drank, some-
thing—he knew not what—would happen. He was even
conscious that his voice was weakening, when, having
entered the eating-house and dropped into a seat in
one of the little boxes into which the place was divided,
he asked the waitress for the food and drink which he
was now positively aching for. And he had eaten a
plateful of fish and two boiled eggs and several thick
slices of bread and butter, and drunk the entire contents
of a pot of tea before he even lifted his eyes to look
round him. But by that time he was conscious of
satisfaction, and he sat up and inspected the place to
which he had hurried so eagerly. And in the same
moment he once more saw Melky.
Melky had evidently just entered the little eating-


MRS. GOLDMARK’S EATING-HOUSE 21
house. Evidently, too, he was in no hurry for food or
drink. He had paused, just within the entrance, at a
desk which stood there, whereat sat Mrs. Goodmark,
the proprietress, a plump, pretty young woman, whose
dark, flashing eyes turned alternately from watching
her waitresses to smiling on her customers as they came
to the desk to pay their bills. Melky, his smart billy-
cock hat cocked to one side, his sporting-looking over-
coat adorned with a flower, was evidently paying
compliments to Mrs. Goldmark as he leaned over her
desk: she gave him a playful push and called to a
waitress to order Mr. Rubinstein a nice steak. And
Melky, turning from her with a well satisfied smile,
caught sight of Lauriston, and sauntered down to the
table at which he sat.
“Get your bit of business done all right?” he asked,
confidentially, as he took a seat opposite his fellow-
lodger and bent towards him. “Find the old gent
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 he does!
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 to live with him when
her father and mother died, she being a little ’un then,
and he give her—ah, such an education as I wish I’d
had—see? She’s quite the lady—is Zillah—but sticks
to the old shop—not half, neither!”


22 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“She seems very business-like,” remarked Lauriston,
secretly pleased that he had now learned the pretty
pawnbroker’s name. “She soon did what I wanted.”
“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 did she 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 watch for
worlds.”
“Well, if you don’t, you don’t,” remarked Melky.
“And as to wanting to buy—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’t going to part with that ticker on no consideration,
I ’ll tell you what it ’s worth, old as it is. Fifteen quid!”
“That’s worth knowing, any way,” said Lauriston.
“I shall always have something by me then, while
I have that. You’d have made a profit of a nice bit,
then, if I’d sold it to you?”
“It ’ud be a poor world, mister, if you didn’t get no
profit, wouldn’t it?” assented Melky calmly. “We’re
all of us out to make profit. Look here !—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?”


MRS. GOLDMARK’S EATING-HOUSE 23
“I should be very glad,” replied Iiauriston.
“There ’s a friend o’ mine,” continued Melky, “whole-
sale jeweller, down Shoreditch 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
’ud touch things up a Bit for him, like. Lor’ bless
yon!—it wouldn’t take you more’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 to see him—he’s away till then.
And—you’ll pay me ten per cent. on the bit o’ business,
w.on’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 and went away. The plump lady at
the desk gave him a smile as she handed him his change.
“Hope to see you again, sir,” she said.
Lauriston went back to his room, feeling that the
world had changed. He had paid his landlady, he had
silver and copper in his pocket, he had the chance of
earning five pounds during the coming week—and he
expected a cheque for his two stories by every post.
And if John Purdie made him the loan he had asked for,
he would be able to devote a whole month to finishing
lis 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


24 THE ORANGE~YELLOW DIAMOND
zero again with Lauriston. No letters had arrived-
either from John Purdie or the editor. On the Sunday
morning he was again face to face with the last half-
crown. He laid out his money very cautiously that
day, but when he had paid for a frugal dinner at a cheap
coffee-shop, he had only a shilling left. He wandered
into Kensington Gardens that Sunday afternoon,
wondering what he had best do next. And as he stood
by the railings of the ornamental water, watching the
water-fowls’ doings, somebody bade him good-day, and
he turned to find the pretty girl of the pawnshop stand-
ing at his side and smiling shyly at him.


CHAPTER THREE
THE DEAD MAN
Lauriston was thinking about Zillah at the very
moment in which she spoke to him: the memory of
her dark eyes and the friendly smile that she had given
him as he left the pawnshop had come as a relief in the
midst of his speculations 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 a man who wants
his catalogue put in shape——for five pounds. Don ’t
you do it for 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 promised I’d do it for five.”
Zillah gave him a quick glance.
“Don ’t you be silly!” she said. “When anybody like
Melky offers you five pounds for anything, ask them
double. They’ll give it. You don’t know much about
money matters, do you?”
25


26 ‘THE ORANGE~YELLOVV DIAMOND
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 of business with you the other day.”
“ Oh—that 1” she said indifferently. “That ’s nothing.
You ’d be astonished if you knew what sort of people just
have to run round to us, now and then—I could tell you
some secrets! But—I guessed you weren’t very well up
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 les,”
she answered. “ Couldn’t help being, with my surround-
ings. You won’t think me inquisitive if I ask you some-
thing? Were you—hard up—when you came round the
other night ? ”
“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 Lauris-
ton. “You see, I ’ve been expecting money for more than
a week—th.at 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 it doesn’t.”
“And then you offer to do for five what you might


THE DEAD MAN 27
easily get ten for!” she said, almost reproachfully. “Let
me give you a bit of advice—never accept a first ofier.
Stand out for a bit more—especially from anybody like
my cousin 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—a mixture. My mother was Jew
—my father wasn’t. Well—if you want money to be
going on with, and you ’ve got any more gold watches, you
know where to come. Don’t you ever go with empty
pockets in London while you’ve got a bit 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 Zil-
lah. “And trying to make a living by writing! Well,
you’ll want courage—and money. Have you had any
luck?”
“I’ve sold two stories,” answered Lauriston, who by
that time was feeling as 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’m waiting for. It ought to comckany time.”
“Oh, but I know that game!” said Zillah. “I’ve two
friends—girls—who write. 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 other
profession that would bring in a good income—then you
could do your writing to please yourselves, and not be
dependent on it. Haven ’t you thought of that?”
“Often!” answered Lauriston. “And it wouldn’t do
1-for me, anyway. I’ve made my choice. I’ll stick to
L-.


28 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
my pen—and swim or sink with it. And I’m not going
to sink!”
“That’s the way to talk—to be sure!” said the girl.
“But—keep yourself in money, if you can. Don’t go
without money for three days when you ’ve anything you
can raise money on. You see how practical I am! But
you ’ve got to be in this world. Will you tell me some-
thing?”
“It strikes me,” answered Lauriston, looking at her
narrowly and bringing the colour to her cheeks, “that
I’m just about getting to this—that I’d tell you any-
thing! And so—what is it?”
“How much money have you left?” she asked softly.
“Precisely a shilling—and a copper or two,” he an-
swered.
“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,/.1:
The girl nodded, and turned towards a side-walk that
led across the Gardens.
“All right,” she said. “Don’t think me inquisitive
—I don ’t like to think of—of people like you being hard
up: I’m not Wrapped up in business as much as all that.
Let’s talk of something else—tell me What you write
abou .”
Lauriston spent the rest of that afternoon with Zillah,
strolling about Kensington Gardens. He had lived a
very lonely life since coming to London, and it was a
new and pleasant experience to him to have an intelli-


THE DEAD MAN 29
gent companion to talk to. There was a decided sense
of exhilaration within him when he finally left her ; as
for Zillah, she went homewards in a very thoughtful
mood, already conscious that she was more than half
in love with this good-looking lad who had come so
strangely into her life. And at the corner of Praed
Street she ran up against Mr. Melky Rubinstein, and
button-holed him, and for ten minutes talked seriously
to him. Melky, who had good reasons of his own for
keeping in his cousin ’s favour, listened like a lamb to all
she had to say, and went ofi 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 perfect fortune should
go and fall head over ears in love with a red-headed
young feller what ain’t got a penny to bless hisself with!
Not but what he ain’t got good looks—and brains.
And brains is brains, when all’s said!”
That night, as Lauriston sat writing in his shabby
little room, a knock came at his door—the door opened,
and Melky slid in, laying his finger to the side of his large
nose in token of confidence.
“Hope I ain’t interrupting,” said Melky. “I say,
mister, I been thinking about that catalogue business.
Now I come to sort of reflect on it, I think my friend ’ll
go to ten pound. So we ’ll say ten pound—what? And
I’ll take you to see him next Friday. And I say, mister
—if a pound or two on account ’ud be of any service-
say the word, d’ye see?”


30 THE ORANGE—YELLOW DIAMOND
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 de-
cided 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 can manage very well indeed—I can,
really! Next Friday, then—I ’ll go with you. I’m very
much obliged to you.”
Melky slipped his money into his pocket—eonscious
of having done his part. “Just as you like, mister,”
he said. “But you was welcome, you know. Next Fri-
day, 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 a bit of prop-
erty to fall back upon-—now that he knew how ready
money could easily be raised. He had some pledgeable
property in his trunk—and when the remittances failed
to arrive, he determined to avail himself of it. Deep
down in a corner of the trimk he had two valuable rings
—all that his mother had left him, with the exception
of two hundred pounds, with which he had ventured to
London, and on which he had lived up to then. He got
the rings out towards the end of Monday afternoon, de-
termining to take them round to Daniel Multenius and


THE DEAD MAN ‘ 31
raise suficient funds on them to last him for, at any rate,
another month or two. He had little idea of the real
value of such articles, and he had reasons of his own
for not showing the rings to Melky Rubinstein; his no-
tion was to wait until evening, when he would 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 and talk of the afternoon before,
he felt that she would do business with him in a
sympathetic spirit—and if he could raise twenty pounds
on the rings he 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, for the second time, turned into the
narrow passage which led to the pawnshop door. He
had already looked carefully through the street window,
in the hope of seeing Zillah inside the front shop. But
there was no Zillah to be seen; the front shop was empty.
Nor did Zillah confront him when he stepped into the
little boxed-in compartment in the pawnshop. There
was a curious silence in the place—broken only by the
quiet, regular ticking of a clock. That ticking grew op-
pressive during the minute or two that he waited expect-
ing somebody to step forward. He rapped on the
counter at last—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 into the open door of a little parlour
which lay behind the shop. The next instant, with no
thought but of the exigencies of the moment, he had


32 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
leapt over the partition and darted into the room.
There, stretched out across the floor, his head lying on
the hearthrug, his hands lying inert and nerveless at
his sides, lay an old man, grey-bearded, venerable—
Daniel Multenius, 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 so still that he knew he was alone
with the dead in it. Instinctively, he ran through the
front shop to the street door—and into the arms of a
man who was just entering.


CHAPTER FOUR
THE PLATINUM SOLI’1‘AIRE
The newcomer, an elderly, thick-set man, who, in spite
of his plain clothes, looked as if he were an ofiicial of
some sort and carried some documents in his hand,
at which he was glancing as he entered, started and
exclaimed as Lauriston, in his haste, ran up against him.
“Hullo!” he said. “What ’s the matter? You seem
in a hurry, young fellow!”
Lauriston, almost out of breath with excitement,
turned and pointed to the open door of the little parlour.
“There ’s an old man—lying in there—dea.d!” he
whispered. “A grey-bearded old man—is it the pawn-
broker—Mr. Multenius?”
The man stared, craned his neck to glance in the
direction which Lauriston’s shaking finger indicated,
and then started forward. But he suddenly paused, and
motioned Lauriston to go first—and before following him
he closed the street door. _
“Now then, where?” he said. “Dead, do you say?”
He followed Lauriston into the parlour, uttered a sharp
exclamation as he caught sight of the recumbent 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 granddaugh-
ter? Have you seen anybody?’ ’
“Not a soul!” answered Lauriston. “Since I came
33


341 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
in, the whole place has been as still as—as it is now!”
The man stared at him for a second or two, silently;
then, as if he knew the ins and outs of the establishment,
he strode to an inner door, threw it 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 the midst 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 par-
lour.
“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 these questions, 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-Sergeant Ayscough—known well enough
around these parts! I came to see the old gentleman
about these papers. Now—what was your business,
then?”
He was watching Lauriston very keenly, and Lauris-
ton, suddenly realizing that he was in an awkward po-
sition, determined on candour.


THE PLATINUM SOLITAIRE 35
“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 which he had taken from his trunk—not
half-an-hour before.
“Your property?” asked Ayscough.
“Of course they’re my property!” exclaimed Lauris-
ton. “Whose else should they be?”
Ayscough’s glance wandered from the rings to a table
I which stood, a little to one side, in the middle of the
parlour. Lauriston turned in that direction, also. Two
objects immediately met his eye. On the table stood a
small tray, full of r‘ings—not dissimilar in style and ap-
pearance to those which 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 those rings
and made little points of fire; here and there he saw!
the shimmer of pearls. But there was another object.
Close by the tray of old rings lay a book—a beautifully
bound book, a small quarto in size, with much elaborate
gold ornament on the back and side, and gilt clasps hold-
ing the heavy leather binding together. It looked as if
some hand had recently thrown this book carelessly on
the table.
But Ayscough gave little, if any, attention to the
book: his eyes were fixed on the rings in the tray—
and he glanced from them to Lauriston’s rings.
“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 ’t suggest—”


36 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Don’t suggest anything—just now,” answered the
detective, quietly. “But you must stop here with me,
until I find out more. Come to the door—we must have
help here.”
Lauriston saw there was nothing to do but to obey,
and he followed Ayscough to the street door. The
detective opened it, looked out, and waiting a few
minutes, beckoned to a policeman who presently strolled
along. After a whispered word or two, the policeman
went away, and Ayscough beckoned Lauriston back into
the shop.
“Now,” he said, “there ’ll be some of our people and
a surgeon along in a few 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
I should find you running out of this shop, old Multenius
dead inside his parlour, and you with a couple of rings
in your possession which look uncommonly like his prop-
erty! Just tell me how it came about.”
Lauriston told him the plain truth—from the pawning
of the watch to the present visit. Ayscough watched
him narrowly—and at the end nodded his head.
“That sounds like a straight tale, Mr. Lauriston,” he
said. “I’m inclined to believe every word you say.
But I shall have to report it, and all the circumstances,
and you’ll have to prove that these two rings were your
mother ’s, and all that—and you must stay here till the
doctor comes with our people. Queer that the old man
should be alone! I wonder where his grand-daughter
is?!’
But just then the street door opened and Zillah came


THE PLATINUM SOLITAIRE 37
in, a big bunch of flowers under one arm, some small
parcels in the other. At the sight of the two men she
started; crimsoned as she saw Lauriston; paled again
as she 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 the open door at the rear of the
shop. He made a kindly motion of his head towards
her.
“Now, my dear!” he said. “Don’t get upset—your
grandfather was getting a very old man, you know—-
and we can ’t expect old gentlemen to live for ever. 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 be brave.
“That means—he’s dead?” she said. “I am quiet-
you see I’m quiet. Tell me what’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 into the parlour there, ’ ’ answered Laur-
iston, “and I saw your grandfather lying on the floor.
So I jumped over the counter and went to him.”
Zillah moved forward as if to go into the parlour.
But the detective stopped her, glancing from her to
Lauriston. 


38 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“You know this young man, Miss Wildrose?” he
asked. “You ’ve met him before?”
“Yes,” replied Zillah, confidently. “He ’s Mr. Laur-
iston. Let me go in there, please. Can nothing be
done?”
But Ayscough only shook his head. There was noth-
ing to be done—but to await the arrival of the doctor.
They followed the girl into the parlour and stood by
while she bent over the dead man. She made no demon-
stration of grief, and when Ayscough presently sug-
gested that she should go upstairs 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,” answered Ayscough, shaking his head. “I
want to know all about this—he may have died 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 Ays-
cough’s account of what had just happened. He was
aware that he was regarded with suspicion—the inspec-
tor somewhat brusquely bade him 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 gen-
eral, uncomfortable sort of silence in the place while
the doctor busied himself about the body.
“This man has been assaulted!” said the doctor, sud-


THE PLATINUM SOLITAIRE 39
denly turning to the inspector. “Look here !—he ’s not
only been violently gripped by the right arm—look at
that bruise—but taken savagely by the throat. There’s
no doubt of that. Old and evidently"feeble as he was,
the shock would be quite enough to kill him. But-
that ’s how it ’s been done, without a doubt.”
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 or at 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 few minutes, 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 you to your lodg-
ings—you ’ll no doubt be able to satisfy him about your
respectability, and so on. I don’t want to suggest any-
thing—but—you understand 2 ’ ’
“I understand,” replied Lauriston. “I’ll show or
tell him anything he likes. 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, and the shop and house had been
closed, Melky Rubinstein, who had come in while the
police were still there, and had remained when they


4:0 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
had gone, stood talking to Zillah in the upstairs sitting-
room. Melky was unusually grave: Zillah had already
gathered that the police had some suspicion about Laur-
iston.
“I’ll go round there and see what the detective fel-
low’s doing with him,” said Melky. “I ain’t got no
suspicion about him—not me! But—it’s an awkward
postion—and them rings, too! Now, if he’d only ha’
shown ‘em to me, first, Zillah—see?”
“Do go, Melky!” urged Zillah tearfully. “Of course,
he ’d nothing to do with it. Oh !—I wish I’d never gone
out!”
Melky went downstairs. He paused for a moment in
the little parlour, glancing meditatively at t.he 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 curious device.


CHAPTER FIVE
THE TWO LETTERS
Unce outside the shop, Lauriston turned sharply on
the detective.
“Look here!” he said. “I wish you’d just tell me
the truth. Am I suspected? 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, you know, Mr. Lauriston, supposing
we put it in this way !—suppose you’d been me, and
I’d been you, half-an-hour ago? What would you have
thought if you’d found me in the situation and under
the circumstances in which I found you? Come, now!”
“Yes,” replied Lauriston, after a moment ’s reflection.
“I suppose it ’s natural that you should suspect me-
finding me there, alone with the old man. But—”
“It’s not so much suspicion in a case of this sort,
as a wish to satisfy one’s self,” interrupted the detective.
“You seem a gentleman-like young fellow, and you may
be all right. I want to know that you are—I’d like to
know that you are! It would be no satisfaction to me
to fasten this business on you, I can assure you. And
if you like to tell me about yourself, and how you came
to go to Multenius’s—why, it would be as well.”
“There ’s not much to tell,” answered Lauriston. “I
came from Scotland to London, two years ago or there-
-..,_...m._ -.._ .-—!,..
41


42 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
abouts, to earn my living by writing. I ’d a bit of money
when I came—I’ve lived on it till now. I’ve just begun
to earn something. I’ve been expecting a cheque for
some work for these last ten or twelve days. but I was
running short last week—so I went to that place to pawn
my watch—I saw the young lady there. As my cheque
hadn’t arrived today, I went there again to pawn those
rings I told you about and showed you. And—that’s all.
Except this—I was advised to go to Multenius’s by a re-
lation of theirs, Mr. Rubinstein, who lodges where I do.
He knows me.’ ’
“Oh, Melky Rubinstein!” said Ayscough. “I know
Melky—sharp chap he is. He sold me this pin I’m wear-
ing. Well, that seems quite a straightforward tale,
Mr. Lauriston. I’ve no doubt all will be satisfactory.
You ’ve friends in London, of course?”
“N<>-—none,” replied Lauriston. “And scarcely an
acquaintance. I’ve kept to myself—working hard: I’ve
had no time—nor inclination, either—to make friends.
Here ’s the house where I lodge—it’s not much of a place,
but come in.”
They had reached Mrs. Flitwick’s house by that time,
and Mrs. Flitwick herself was in the narrow, shabby
passage as they entered. She immediately produced
two letters.
“Here ’s two letters for you, Mr. Lauriston,” she said,
with a sharp glance at Ayscough. “One of ’em’s a reg-
istered—I did sign for it. So I kept ’em myself, instead
of sending ’em up to your room.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Flitwick,” said Lauriston. He
took the letters, saw that the writing on the registered


THE TWO LETTERS 43
envelope was his old friend John Purdie’s, and that the
other letter was from the magazine to which he had sold
his stories, 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 printed form and a cheque
for twenty guineas. He took one look at them and
thrust them into the detective ’s hands.
“There!” he said, with a sigh of mingled relief and
triumph. “There’s a proof of the truth of one state-
ment I made to you! That ’s the expected cheque 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 a hastily scribbled note which
Lauriston eagerly read. “ Dear old Andie, ” it ran, ‘ ‘ I’ve
only just got your letter, for I’ve been from home for
a fortnight, and had no letters sent on to me. Of course
you’ll make me your banker until your book’s finished
—and afterwards, too, if need be. Here ’s something to
be going on with—but I’m coming to London in a day
or two, as it happens, and will go into matter—I’ll call
on you as soon as I arrive. 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 own country!” he exclaimed. “Ah!—if
those letters had only come before I went ofi to Praed
Street!”
“Just so!” agreed the detective, glancing the letters


44 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
and their accompaniments 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 wish
they hadn’t been so much like those that were lying in
that tray on the old man’s table. It’s an unfortunate
coincidence !—because some folks might think, you know,
that you ’d just grabbed a couple of those as you left the
place. Eh?”
“My rings have been in that trunk for two or three
years,” asserted Lauriston. “They were my mother’s,
and I believe she ’d had them for many a year before she
died. They may resemble those that we saw in that tray,
but—”
“Well, I suppose you can bring somebody—if neces-
sary—, that is—to prove that they were your mother’s,
can’t you?” asked Ayscough. “That ’ll make matters
all right—on that point. And as for the rest—it’s very
lucky you know Melky Rubinstein, and that the girl
knew you as a customer. But, my faith !—I wish you ’d
caught a glimpse of somebody leaving that shop! For
there ’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 lying on 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 so unkind as to mix up this
here young fellow in what’ happened. S’elp me, Mr.
Ayscough, I couldn’t believe anything o’ that sort about


THE TWO LETTERS 45
him, nohow—nor would my cousin, Zillah, what you
know well enough, neither; he’s as quiet 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. Ays-
cough?”
“Very well indeed, my boy!” agreed the detective,
heartily. “And I’ll tell you what—I shall have to
trouble Mr. Lauriston to go round with me to the sta-
tion, just to give a formal account of what happened,
and a bit of explanation, 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. Ayscoug ,” said
Melky. He motioned to Lauriston to put his money
in his pocket. “Glad to see your letters turned up,”
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 stand up for you.’ ’
The detective’s report, a little questioning of Lauris-
ton, and Melky’s fervent protestations on Lauriston’s
behalf, served to satisfy the authorities at the police-
station, and Lauriston was allowed to go—admonished
by the inspector that he’d be wanted at the inquest,
as the most important witness. He went out into the
street with Melky.
“Come and have a bit o’ supper at Mrs. Goldmark’s,”
suggested Melky. “I shall have my hands full tonight


46 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
at the poor old man’s, but I ain’t had nothing since din-
ner.”
Lauriston, however, excused himself. He wanted to
go home and write letters—at once. But he promised
to look round at the pawnshop later in the evening,
to see if he could be of any use, and to give Melky a full
account of his finding of the old pawnbroker.
“Ah!” remarked Melky, as they pushed at the door
of the eating-house. “And ain’t it going to be a nice
job to find the man that scragged him ?—I don ’t think!
But I’m going to take a hand at that game, mister !—let
alone the police.”
Mrs. Goldmark was out. She had heard the news,
said the waitress who was left 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 and reflected. And his thoughts ran
chiefly on the platinum solitaire stud which he had care-
fully bestowed in his vest pocket.
It was Melky’s firm belief—already—that the stud had
been dropped in Daniel Multenius’s back parlour by
some person who had no business there—in other words
by the old man’s assaillant. And ever since he had
found the stud, Melky had been wondering and speculat-
ing on his chances of finding its owner. Of one thing he
was already certain that the owner, whoever he was, was
no ordinary person. Ordinary, everyday persons do not
wear studs or tie-pins on chains made of platinum—the
most valuable of all the metals. How came a solitaire
stud, made of a metal far more valuable than gold, and


48 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
object which lay on top of a little pile of papers. That
object was the duplicate of the platinum solitaire which
Melky had in his pocket. Without ceremony—-being well
known there—he at once picked it up.
“W'hat’s this bit of jewellery?” he demanded.
“That?” said the waitress, indifierently. “Oh, one
of the girls picked it up the other day off a table where
a stranger had been sitting—we think he ’d dropped it.
Mrs. Goldmark says it ’s valuable, so she put it away, in
case 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 the desk, 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 the eating-house, faced the situa-
‘ tion in which an unfortunae combination of circumstances
had placed him. Ayscough had been placable enough;
the authorities at the police-station had heard his own ver-
sion of things with attention—but he was still conscious
that he was under a certain amount of suspicion. More
than that, he felt convinced that the police would keep
an eye on him that night. Ayscough, indeed, had more
than hinted that that would probably be done. For any-
thing he knew, some plain-clothes man might be shadow-
ing him even t.hen—anyway, there had been no mistaking
the almost peremptory request of the inspector that he
should report himself at the police station in the morn-
ing. It was no use denying the fact—he was suspected,
in some degree.
He knew where the grounds of suspicion lay—in his
possession of two rings, which were undoubtedly very
similar to the rings which lay in the tray that he and the
detective had found on the table in the back-parlour of
the pawnshop. It needed no effort on the part of one
who had already had considerable experience in the
construction of plots for stories, to see how the police
would build up a theory of their own. Here, they would
49


50 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
say, is a young fellow, who on his own confession, is so
hard up, so penniless, indeed, that he has had to pawn his
watch. He has got to know something of this particular
pawnshop, and of its keepers—he watches the girl leave;
he ascertains that the old man is alone; he enters, prob-
ably he 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 silence his outcries; the old
man, feeble enough at any time, dies under the shock.
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. The friendliness of Zillah and
her cousin Melky towards him could be dismissed—that,
when it came to it, would weigh little against the cold
marshalling of facts which a keen legal mind would
put into the opposite scale. His own contention that it
‘ was scarcely probable that he should have gone to the
pawnshop except to pledge something, and that that some-
thing was the rings, would also be swept aside, easily
enough: his real object, the other side would say, had been
robbery when the old man was alone: what evidence had
he that the two rings which he had in his hand when
Ayscough found him hurrying out of the shop were really
his 2
Here, Lauriston knew he was in a dificulty. He had
kept these two rings safely hidden in his old-fashioned
tnmk ever since coming to London, and had never shown
them to a single person—he had, indeed, never seen them
himself for along time until he took them out that after-
noon. But where was his proof of that? He had no


THE SPANISH MANUSCRIPT 51
relations to whom he could appeal. His mother had pos-
sessed an annuity; just sufiicient to maintain her and her
son, and to give Lauriston a good education: it had died
with her, and all that she had left him, to start life on,
was about two hundred pounds and some small personal
belongings, of which the rings and his father ’s watch and
chain were a part. And he remembered now that his
mother had kept those 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 very valuable. 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—and prove
that those rings had been her property? But when he
had put this question to himself, he had to answer it with
a direct negative—-he knew of no one.
There was one gleam of hope in this critical situation.
John Purdie was coming to London. Lauriston had al-
ways felt that he could rely on John Purdie, and he had
just received proof of the value of his faith in his old
schoolmate. John Purdie would tell him what to do:
he might even suggest the names of some of Mrs. Lauris-
ton ’s old friends. And perhaps the need might not arise
—.there must surely be some clue to the old pawnbroker’s
assailant; surely the police would go deeper into the mat-
ter. He cheered up at these thoughts, and having writ-
ten replies to the two welcome letters and asked John
Purdie to see him immediately on his arrival in town, he
went out again to the post-ofiice and to fulfil his promise
to Melky to call at the pawnshop.


52 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Lauriston was naturally of quick observation. He
noticed now, as he stepped out into the ill-lighted, gloomy
street that a man was pacing up and down in front of
the house. This man took no notice of him as he
passed, but before he had reached Praed Street, he
glanced around, and saw that he was following him. He
followed him to Spring Street post-ofiice; he was in his
rear when Lauriston reached the pawnshop. Idly and
perfunctorily as the man seemed to be strolling about,
Lauriston was sure that he was shadowing him—and he
told Melky of the fact when Melky admitted him to the
shop by the private door.
“Likely enough, mister,” remarked Melky. “But I
shouldn’t bother myself about it if I were you. There’ll
be more known about this aifair before long. Now, look
here,” he continued, leading the way into the little back-
parlour where Lauriston had found Daniel Multenius
lying dead, “here’s you and me alone—Zillah, she’s up-
stairs, and Mrs. Goldmark is with her. Just you tell me
what you saw when you came in here, d’you see, Mr.
Lauriston—never mind the poli.ce—just give me the facts.
I ain’t no fool, you know, and I’m going to work this
thing ou ”
Lauriston gave Melky a complete account of his con-
nection with the matter: Melky checked off all the points
on his long fingers. At the end he turned to the table
and indicated the finely-bound book which Lauriston had
noticed when he and the detective had first looked round.
“The police,” said Melky, “made Zillah lock up that
tray o’ rings that was ‘there in a drawer what she had
.to clear out for ’em, and they’ve put a seal on it till to-


THE SPANISH MANUSCRIPT 53
morrow. 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,” answered Lauriston- “Ayscough advised it.
They gave me a receipt for them, you know.”
“All right,” remarked Melky. “But there’s some-
thing they ain’t had the sense to see the importance of
—that fine book there. Mister !—that there book wasn’t
in this parlour, nor in this shop, nor in this house, at a
quarter 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, who brought 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, some-
body—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 about books. Look at it !—s’elp me if I don ’t
feel there ’s a clue in that there volume, whoever it be-
longs to!”
Lauriston took the book in his hands. He had only
glanced at it casually before; now he examined it care-
fully, while Melky stood at his elbow, watching. The
mysterious volume was certainly worthy of close inspec-
tion—a small quarto, wonderfully bound in old dark
crimson morocco leather, and ornamented on sides and
back with curious gold arabesque work: a heavy clasp,
also intricately wrought, held the boards together.
Lauriston, something of a book lover, whose natural in-
clination was to spend his last shilling on a book rather


5Q THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
than on beef and bread, looked admiringly at this 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. “You know.”
“Solid gold it is, mister—and no error,” assented
Melky. “Now, what ’s inside? It ain’t no blooming ac-
count-book, I’ll bet!”
Lauriston opened the volume, to reveal leaves of old
vellum, covered with beautiful fine writing. He had
suficient knowledge of foreign languages to know what
he was looking at.
“That ’s Spanish!” he said. “An old Spanish manu-
script—and I should say it’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 a corner cupboard.
“Ah, just so, mister!” he said. “But we’ll keep that
question to ourselves—for awhile. Don’t you say noth-
ing to the police about that there old book—I’ll give Zil-
lah the tip. More hangs round that than we know of
yet. Now look here !—there’ll be the opening of the in-
quest tomorrow. You be careful! Take my tip and
don ’t let ’em get more out of you than ’s necessary. I’ll
go along with you. I’m going to stop here tonight—~
watch-dog, you know. Mrs. Goldmark and another
friend ’s going to be here as well, so Zillah’ll have com-
pany. And I say, Zillah wants a word with 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


THE SPANISH MANUSCRIPT 55
eyes full of anxiety: he suddenly realized that the anxiety
was for himself.
“Don ’t!” he said, moving close to her and laying his
hand on her arm. “I’m not 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 say or think, or do, either—at
least, it shan’t matter. And—you’re not to be anxious.
I ’ve got a good friend coming from Scotland—Melky told
you I’d had two lots of good news tonight, didn’t he?”
A moment later Lauriston was in the street—conscious
that, without a word spoken between them, he and Zillah
had kissed each other. He went away with a feeling of
exaltation—and he only laughed when he saw a man de-
tach himself from a group on the opposite side of the
street and saunter slowly after him. Let the police
shadow him—watch his lodgings all night, if they pleased
—he had something else to think of. And presently, not
even troubling 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 was before him, his thoughts were not
quite so rosy. He drew up his blind—there, certainly
was a man pacing the opposite sidewalk. Evidently, he
was not to escape surveillance; the ofiicial eye was on him!
Supposing, before the day was out, the ofiicial hand was
on him, too?


56 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
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 a three-penny Times
in those days, but he had always managed to find his
weekly eighteenpence for it. He picked it up now, and
carelessly glanced at its front page as he was about to lay
it aside. The next moment he was eagerly reading a
prominent advertisement:
“Losr in a Holborn to Chapel Street Omnibus,
about 4 o’clock yesterday afternoon, a Spanish
manuscript, bound in old crimson morocco.
Whoever has found the same will be most hand-
somely rewarded on bringing it to Spencer Lev-
endale, 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 as Lauriston neared it; he, too, had a
newspaper bulging from his coat pocket, 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, the shadowing plain-clothes man
in his rear. “D’ye see this?” He pointed to an adver-
tisement in his own paper, which he had marked with
blue pencil. “There y’are, Mr. Lauriston!—that iden-
tical old book what’s inside the parlour—advertised for
—handsome reward, too, in the Daily Telegraph! Did-
n’t I say we ’d hear more of it?”
Lauriston pulled out the Times and indicated the Per-
sonal Column.
“It ’s there, too,” he said. “This man, Mr. 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. I didn’t mean to say nothing to the
police about it, just yet, but after this here advertise-
ment, t’ain’t no use keeping the thing to ourselves.
‘Come on round to the police-station.”
57


58 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Q1
“That’s just where I was going,
“Let ’s get hold of Ayscough.”
Ayscough was standing just inside the police-station
when they went up the steps; he, too, had a newspaper
in his hands, and at sight of them he beckoned them to
follow him into an ofiice in which two or three other
police ofiicials were talking. He led Lauriston and Melky
aside.
“I say!” he said. “Here’s a curious thing! That
book we noticed on the table in Multenius’s back room
last night—that finely bound book—it’s advertised for
in the Davily Mail—handsome reward offered.”
“Yes, and in the Times, too—and in the Daily Tele-
graph,” said Lauriston. “Here you are—just the same
advertisement. It ’s very evident the owner’s pretty keen
about getting it back.”
Ayscough glanced at the two newspapers, and then
beckoned to a constable who was standing near the
door.
“Jim!” he said, as the man came up. “Just slip
across to the newsagent’s over there and get me the News,
the Chnonicle, 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 all the
morning papers, and I’d like to make sure. What’s
known about that book at the shop '1” he ‘asked, glancing
at Melky. “Does your cousin know anything?”
Melky’s face assumed its most solemn expression.
“Mister!” he said earnestly. “There ain’t nothing
known at the shop about that there book, except this here.
It wasn’t there when my cousin Zillah left the old man
replied Lauriston.


THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT 59
alone at a quarter to five yesterday afternoon. It was
there when this here gentleman found the old man. But
it hadn’t been pledged, nor yet sold, Mr. Ayscough-
There’d ha’ been an entry in the books if it had been
taken in pawn, or bought across the counter—and there ’s
no entry. Now then—who’d left it there?”
Another ofiicial had come up to the group—one of
the men who had questioned Lauriston the night before.
He turned to Lauriston as Melky finished.
“You don ’t know anything about this book?” he asked.
“Nothing—except that Mr. Ayscough and I saw it
lying on the table in the back room, close by that tray
of rings,” replied Lauriston. “I was attracted by the
binding, of course.”
“Where’s the book, now?” asked the ofiicial.
“Put safe away, mister,” replied Melky. “It’s all
right. But this here gentleman what’s advertising for
it__7!
Just then the constable returned with several news-
papers and handed them over to Ayscough, who immedi-
ately laid them on a desk and turned to the advertise-
ments, 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 advertisement round
to all the ofiices last night. And you ’ll notice, ’ ’ he added,
turning to the other ofiicial, “that this Mr. Levendale
only lost this book about four o’clock yesterday after-
noon: therefore, it must have been taken to Multenius’s
shop between then and when we saw it there. ”
“The old man may have found it in the ’bus,” sug-


60 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
gested a third police ofiicer who had come up. “Looks
as if he had.”
“No, mister,” said Melky firmly. “Mr. Multenius
wasn’t out of the shop at all yesterday afternoon—I’ve
made sure o’ that fact from my cousin. He didn’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. Leven-
dale.”
Ten minutes later, the three found themselves at the
door of one of the biggest houses in Sussex Square; a
moment more and they were being ushered within by a
footman who looked at them with stolid curiosity. Laur-
iston gained a general impression of great wealth and
luxury, soft carpets, fine pictures, all the belongings of
a very rich man’s house—then he and his companions
were ushered into a large room, half study, half library,
wherein, at a massive, handsomely carved desk, littered
with books and papers, sat a middle-aged, keen-eyed man,
who looked quietly up from his writing-pad at his vis~
itors.
“S’elp me !—one of ourselves!” whispered Melky
Rubinstein at Lauriston’s elbow. “ Twig him!”
Lauriston was quick enough of comprehension and
observation to know what Melky meant. Mr. Spencer
Levendale was certainly a Jew. His dark hair and beard,
his large dark eyes, the olive tint of his complexion, the
lines of his nose and lips all betrayed his Semitic origin.


THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT 61
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 Ays-
cough 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. “I may as well tell you that that book of yours
was found yesterday afternoon, under strange circum-
stances. Mr. Daniel Multenius, the jeweller and pawn-
broker, of Praed Street—perhaps you know him, sir?”
“Not at all!” answered Levendale. “Never heard of
him.”
“He was well known in this part of the town,” re-
marked Ayscough, quietly. “Well, sir—Mr. Multenius
was found dead in his back-parlour yesterday afternoon,
about five-thirty, by this young man, Mr. Lauriston, who
happened to look in there, and I myself was on the spot
a few minutes later. Your book—for it’s certainly the
same——was lying on the table in the parlour. Now, this
other young man, Mr. Rubinstein, is a relation of Mr.
Multenius’s—from enquiries he’s made, Mr. Levendale,
it ’s a fact that the book was neither pawned nor sold at
Multenius’s, though it must certainly have been brought
there between the time you lost it and the time we found ,.
the old gentleman lying dead. Now, we—the police-— ‘
want to know how it came there. And so—I’ve come
round to you. What can you tell me, sir?”
Levendale, who had listened to Ayscough with great-


THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT 63
was eyeing the rich man before him in inquisitive fash-
1011.
“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 he was, 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 bought it—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 at Ayscough. .
“Well, no, Mr. Levendale, thank you,” replied the de-
tective. “At least not just now. Bat--the fact is, Mr.
Multenius appears to have come to his death by violence
—and I want to know if whoever took ‘you? book into his
shop had anything to do with it.”
“Ah !—however, I can ’t tell you any more,” said Lev-
‘ endale. “Please see that my book’s taken great care of
and returned to me, sergeant. Good-mornings ’
Outside, Ayscough consulted his watch and looked at
his companions.


641 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Time we were going on to the inquest,” he remarked.
“Come on—we’ll step round there together. You’re
both wanted, you know. ”
“I’ll join you at the Coroner’s court, Mr. Ayscough,”
said Melky. “I’ve got 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 woman whom 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 fellow what you be-
lieved 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—very brown—looked like one of
those Colonials that you see sometimes—wore a slouch
ha .”
“Not a word to nobody!” warned Melky, more mys-
teriously than ever. And nodding his head with great
solemnity, he left the eating-house, and hurried away to
the Coroner’s Court.


CHAPTER EIGHT
rm: mqunsr
Until he and Ayscough walked into this particular one,
Lauriston had never been in a Coroner’s Court in his
life. He knew very little about what went on in such
places. He was aware that the ofiice of Coroner is of
exceeding antiquity; that when any person meets his or
her death under suspicious circumstances 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 Coroner and jury did, what the procedure of these
courts was, he did not know. It surprised him, accord-
ingly, to find himself in a hall which had all the outward
appearance of a court of justice—a raised seat; on a sort
of dais, for the Coroner; a box for the jury; a table for
ofiicials and legal gentlemen; a stand for witnesses, and
accommodation for the general public. Clearly, it was
evident that when any one died as poor old Daniel Mul-
tenius had died, the law took good care that everybody
should know everything about it, and that whatever mys-
tery there was should be thoroughly investigated.
The general public, however, had not as yet come to be
greatly interested in the death of Daniel Multenius. Up
to that moment the afiair was known to few people be-
yond the police, the relations of the dead man, and his
immediate neighbours in Praed Street. Consequently, be-
65


66 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
yond the interested few, there was no great assemblage
in the court that morning. A reporter or two, each with
his note-book, lounged at the end of the table on the
chance of getting some good copy out of whatever might
turn up; some of the police ofiicials whom Lauriston had
already seen stood chatting with the police surgeon and
a sharp-eyed legal looking man, who was attended by a
clerk; outside the open door, a group of men, evidently
tradesmen and householders of the district, hung about,
looking as if they would be glad to get back to their busi-
nesses and occupations. Melky, coming in a few min-
utes after Lauriston had arrived, and sitting down by
him, nudged his elbow 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 of it, sometimes.
They ’ve the power to send a man for trial for his life,
has them chaps—all depends on their verdict. But lor’
bless yer !—they takes their tip from the Coroner—he’s
the fellow what you ’ve got to watch.”
Then Melky looked around more narrowly, and sud-
denly espied the legal-looking man who was talking to the
police. He dug his elbow into Lauriston.
“Mister!” he whispered. “You be careful what you
say when you get into that 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. Par-
minter !—I knows him, well enough. He’s a lawyer chap,
what the police gets 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 ’s the


THE INQUEST 67
sort that can get a tale out of a dead cod-fish—s’elp me,
he is! He’s a terror, he is !—the Coroner ain’t in it with
him--he’s a good sort, the Coroner, but Parminter—Lord
love us! ain’t I heard him turn witnesses inside out—
not half 2 And here is the Coroner."
Lauriston almost forgot that he was an important wit-
ness, and was tempted to consider himself nothing but
a spectator as he sat and witnessed the formal opening
of the Court, the swearing-in of the twelve jurymen, all
looking intensely bored, and the preliminaries which
prefaced the actual setting-to-work of the morning’s
/business. But at last, after some opening remarks from
the Coroner, who said that the late Mr. Daniel Multenius
was a well-known and much respected tradesman of the
neighbourhood, that they were all sorry to hear of his
sudden death, and that there were circumstances about
it which necessitated a careful investigation, the business
began—and Lauriston, who, for professional purposes,
had heard a good many legal cases, saw, almost at once,
that the police, through the redoubtable Mr. Parminter,
now seated with his clerk at the table, had carefully ar-
ranged the presenting of evidence on a plan and system
of their own, all of which, so it became apparent to him,
was intended to either incriminate himself, or throw con-
siderable suspicion upon him. His interest began to as-
sume a personal complexion.
The story of the circumstances of Daniel Multenius’s
death, as unfolded in the witness-box into which one
person went after another, appeared to be the fairly
plain one-looked at from one point of view: there was
a certain fascination in its unfolding. It began with


68 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Melky, who was first called—to identify the deceased,
to answer a few general questions about him, 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 his years—seventy-five—who was cer-
tainly growing feeble, could expect to be in. Nothing
much was asked of Melky, and nothing beyond bare
facts volunteered by him: the astute Mr. Parminter left
him alone. A more important witness was the police-
surgeon, who testified that the deceased had been dead
twenty minutes when he was called to him, that he had
without doubt been violently assaulted, having been
savagely seized by the throat and by the left arm, on
both of which significant marks were plainly visible, and
that the cause of death was shock following immedi-
ately on this undoubted violence. It was evident, said
this witness, that the old man was feeble, and that he
suffered from a weak heart: such an attack as that which
he had described would be sufiicient to cause death, al-
most instantly.
“So it is a case of murder!” muttered Melky, who
had gone back to sit by Lauriston. “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 it
seemed, to his thinking, that he ought to have been
called at a very early stage of the proceedings. He was
about to whisper his convictions on this point to Melky,


THE INQUEST 69
when a door was opened and Zillah was escorted in by
Ayscough, 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 the Coroner made her
task as brief as possible. It was—at that stage—little
that he wanted to know. And Zillah told little. She
had gone out to do some shopping, at half-past-four on
the previous afternoon. She left her grandfather alone.
He was then quite well. He was in the front shop,
doing nothing in particular. She was away about an
hour, when she returned to find Detective-Sergeant
Ayscough, whom she knew, and Mr. Lauriston, whom
she also knew, in the shop, and her grandfather dead
in the parlour behind. At this stage of her evidence,
the Coroner remarked that he did not wish to ask Zillah
any further questions just then, but he asked her to
remain in court. Mrs. Goldmark had followed her, and
she and Zillah sat down near Melky and Lauriston—and
Lauriston half believed that his own turn would now
come.
But Ayscough was next ca.lled—to give a brief, bald,
matter-of-fact statement of what he knew. He had
gone to see Mr. Multenius on a business afiair—he was
making enquiries about a stolen article which was be-
lieved to have been pledged in the Edgware Road dis-
trict. He told how Lauriston ran into him as he en-
tered the shop; what Lauriston said to him; what he
himself saw and observed; what happened afterwards.
It was a plain and practical account, with no indication


70 ‘THE ORANGE—YELLOW DIAMOND
of surprise, bias, or theory—and nobody asked the de-
tective any questions arising out of it.
“Ain’t nobody but you to call, now, mister,” whis-
pered Melky. “Mind your p’s and q’s about them
blooming rings—and watch that Parminter!”
But Melky was mistaken—the ofiicial eye did not
turn upon Lauriston but, upon the public benches of
the court, as if it were seeking some person there.
“There is a witness who has volunteered a statement
to the police,” said the Coroner. “I understand it is
highly important. We had better hear him at this
point. Benjamin Hollinshaw ! ’ ’
Melky uttered a curious groan, and glanced at
Lauriston.
“Fellow what has a shop right opposite!” he whis-
pered. “S’elp me !—what’s he 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-box as if he had
been doing things of importance and moment all his life,
and was taking it quite as a matter of course that he
should do another. He took the oath and faced the
court with something of an air, as much as to imply
that upon what he was about to say more depended
than any one could conceive. Invited to tell what he
knew, he told his story, obviously enjoying the telling
of it. He was a tradesman in Praed Street: a dealer
in second-hand clothing, to be exact; been there many
years, in succession to 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


THE INQUEST '11
directly facing Daniel Multenius’s shop door. The dark-
ness had already come on, and there was also a bit of
a fog in the street: not much, but hazy, as it were.
Daniel Multenius’s window was lighted, but the light
was confined to a couple of gas-jets. There was a light
in the projecting sign over the side entrance to the pawn-
shop, down the passage. For the first few minutes while
he stood at his door, looking across to Multenius’s, he
did not see any one enter or leave that establishment.
But he then saw a young man come along, from the
Edgware Road direction, whose conduct rather struck
him- 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 the
window and looked inside in the same prying fashion,
as if he wanted to find out who was within. He went
to various parts of the window, as if endeavouring to
look inside. Finally, he stepped down the side-passage
and entered the door which led to the compartments
into which people turned who took things to pledge.
He, Hollinshaw, remained at his shop door for some
minutes after that—in fact, until the last witness came
along. He saw Ayscough enter Multenius’s front door
and immediately pause—then the door was shut, and
he himself went back into his own shop, his wife just
then 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?”


72 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Hollinshaw turned instantly and pointed to Lauriston.
“That ’s the young man, sir,” he answered, with con-
fidence.
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 a blooming fool for not thinking of it!
Be careful—the Coroner’s a-looking at you!”
As a matter of fact, every person in the court was
staring at Lauriston, and presently the Coroner ad-
dressed 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 regards myself.”
The Coroner hesitated a moment; then he motioned
to Hollinshaw to leave the box, and once more turned
to Lauriston. "
“We will have your evidence now,” he said. “And
—let me warn you that there is no obligation on you to
say anything which would seem to incriminate you.”


CHAPTER NINE
wnosn WERE -moss smcs?
Paying no attention to another attempted murmur of
advice from Melky, who seemed to be on pins and
needles, Lauriston at once jumped to his feet and strode
to the witness-box. The women in the public seats
glanced at him with admiring interest—such a fine-
looking young fellow, whispered one sentimental lady to
another, to have set about a poor old gentleman like
Mr. Multenius! And everybody else, from the Coroner
to the newspaper reporter—who was beginning to think
he would get some good copy, after all, that morning-
regarded him with attention. Here, at any rate, was
the one witness who had actually found the pawnbrok-
er’s dead body.
Lauriston, his colour heightened a little under all this
attention, answered the preliminary questions readily
enough. His name was Andrew Carruthers Lauriston.
His age—nearly twenty-two. He was a native of
Peebles, in Scotland—the only son of the late Andrew
Lauriston. His father was a minister of the Free
Church. His mother was dead, too. He himself had
come to London about two years ago—just after his
mother’s death. For the past few weeks he had lodged
with Mrs. Flitwick, in Star Street—that was his present
address. He was a. writer of fiction—stories and novels.
He had heard all the evidence already given, including
73


74 THE ORANGE—YELLOW DIAMOND
that of the last witness, Hollinshaw. All that Hollin-
shaw 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 in through both doors and window before enter-
ing the side-door: he wanted to know 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 done business with Mr. Multenius, never
even seen him that he remembered, but he 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 the shop when he looked in
through the front door and the window—so he went
round to the side-entrance.
All this had come in answer to questions put by the
Coroner-—who now paused and looked at Lauriston not
unkindly.
“I daresay you are already aware that there is, or
may be, some amount of suspicious circumstances at-
taching to your visit to this place yesterday afternoon,”
he said. “Do you care to tell the court—in your own
way—precisely what took place, what you discovered,
after you entered the pawnshopf”
“That ’s exactly what I wish to do,” answered
Lauriston, readily. “I’ve already told it, more than
once, to the police and Mr. Multenius’s relatives—I’ll
tell it again, as plainly and briefly as I can- I went
into one of the compartments just within the side-door
of the place. I saw no one, and heard no one. I rapped
on the counter-—nobody came. So I looked round the


WHOSE WERE THOSE RINGS? 75
partition into the front shop. There was no one there.
Then I looked round the other partition into the back
parlour, the door of which was wide open. I at once
saw an old ma.n 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 over the counter, and went into
the parlour. I saw at once that he was dead—and
almost immediately I hurried to the front door, to sum-
mon asistance. At the door I ran into Mr. Ayscough,
who was entering as I opened the door. I at once told
him of what I had found. That is the plain truth as to
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 per-
fectly quiet.”
“What had you gone there to do E1”
“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.


'76 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Mr. Ayscough was with me when it did arrive,”
replied Lauriston, glancing at the detective. “We
found it—two letters—at my lodgings when he walked
round there with me after what I have just told you o .”
“You had done your business on that previous occa-
sion 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 in his own parlour,” answered
Lauriston.
The Coroner turned from the witnem, and glanced
towards the table at which Mr. Parminter and the
police ofiicials sat. And Mr. Parminter slowly rose 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 pleasant and 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 him-
self 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 to London two years ago?”
“No, I haven’t!”
“How much have you earned by your pen since you
came, now?”
‘ ‘About thirty pounds. ’ ’


WHOSE WERE THOSE RINGS? 7’7
“Thirty pounds in two years. What have you lived
on, then?”
“I had money of my own,” replied Lauriston. “I
had two hundred pounds when I left home.”
“And that gave out—when?” demanded Mr. Par-
minter.
“Last week.”
‘.‘And so—you took your watch to the pawnshop. And
..—yesterday—your expected money not having arrived,
you were obliged to visit the pawnshop again? Taking
with you, you said just now, two rings-your own prop-
erty. Am I correct?”
“Quite correct—two rings—my own property.”
Mr. Parminter turned and spoke to a police ofiicial,
who, lifting aside a sheet of brown paper which lay be.
fore him, revealed the tray of rings which Lauriston
and Ayscough had found on the table in Multenius’s
parlour. At the same time, Mr. Parminter, lifting his
papers, revealed Lauriston’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 dead man?” he enquired.
“I did.”
“Did it strike you that your own rings were remark-
ably like the rings in this tray?”


78 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“No, it did not,” answered Lauriston. “I know noth-
ing about rings."
Mr. Parminter quietly passed the tray of rings to the
Coroner, with Lauriston’s rings lying on a sheet of
paper.
“Perhaps you will examine these things and direct
the attention of the jurymen to them?” he said, and
turned to the witness-box again. “I want to ask you a
very particular question,” he continued. “You had
better consider it well before answering it—it is more
important—to you—than may appear at first hearing.
Can you bring any satisfactory proof that those two rings
which you claim to be yours, really are yours? ”
There followed on that a dead silence in court. Peo-
ple had been coming in since the proceedings had opened,
and the place was now packed to the door. Every eye
was turned on Lauriston as he stood in the witness-box,
evidently thinking deeply. And in two pairs of eyes
there was deep anxiety: Melky was nervous and fidgety;
Zillah was palpably greatly concerned. But Lauriston
looked at neither—and he finally turned to Mr. Parmin-
ter with a candid glance.
“The rings are mine,” he answered. “But—I don’t
know how I can prove that they are!”
A suppressed murmur ran round the court—in the
middle of it, the Coroner handed the rings to a police
ofiicial and motioned him to show them to the jurymen.
And Mr. Parminter’s suave voice was heard again.
“You can ’t prove that they are yours."
“May I explain?” asked Lauriston. “Very well-


WHOSE WERE THOSE RINGS? 79
there may be people, old friends, who have seen those two
rings in my mother ’s possession. But I don ’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 possewion, of course, of all her efiects.
I don’t remember showing the rings to anybody."
“You kept them in your trunk until you took them
out to raise money on them?”
“Yes—that’s so,” admitted Lauriston.
“How much money had you—in the world—when you
went to the pawnshop yesterday afternoon?” demanded
Mr. Parminter, with a sudden keen glance.
Lauriston flushed scarlet.
“If you insist on knowing,” he said. “I’d just noth-
ing.”
There was another murmur in court—of pity from
the sentimental ladies in the public seats, who, being
well acquainted with the pawnshops themselves, and with
the necessities which drove them there were experienc-


80 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
ing much fellow-feeling for the poor young man in the
witness-box. But Lauriston suddenly smi1ed—trium-
phantly.
“All the same,” he added, glancing at Mr. Parminter.
“I’d forty pounds, in my letters, less than an hour after-
wards. Ayscough knows that!”
Mr. Parminter paid no attention to this remark. He
had been whispering to the police inspector, and now he
turned to the Coroner.
“I should like this witness to stand down for a few
minutes, sir,” he said. “I wish to have Miss Wildrose
recalled.”
The Coroner gently motioned Zillah to go back to the
witness-box.


CHAPTER TEN
IIELKY INTER-VENES
Zillah had listened to Lauriston’s answers to Mr. Par-
minter’s searching questions with an anxiety which was
obvious to those who sat near her. The signs of that
anxiety were redoubled as she walked slowly to the box,
and the glance she threw at the Coroner was almost ap-
pealing. But the Coroner was looking at his notes, and
Zillah was obliged to turn to Mr. Parminter, whose ac-
cents became more mellifluous than ever as he addressed
her; Mr. Parminter, indeed, confronting Zillah might
have been taken for a kindly benevolent gentleman whose
sole object was to administer condolence and comfort.
Few people in court, however, failed to see the meaning
of the questions which he began to put in the suavest
and softest of tones.
“I believe you assisted your late grandfather in his
business?” suggested Mr. 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 some years before that?”
“Ever since I was a little girl,” admitted Zillah.
“In fact, the late Mr. Multenius brought you up?
81


82 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Just so!—therefore, of course, you would have some
- acquaintance with his business before you 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 that you gradually got a good deal of
knowledge about the articles with which your grand-
father had to deal? To be sure—thank you. In fact,
you are entitled to regard yourself as something of an
expert in precious stones and 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 grand-
father ’s stock?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Parminter mcrtioned the olficial who had charge of
it to place the tray, of rings on the ledge of the witness-
box.
“Oblige me by looking .at that tray and the contents,”
he said. “You recognize it, of course? Just so. Now,
do you know where that tray was when 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 the front 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. They were always left like that? Just so.


MELKY INTERVENES 83
And you don’t know how many there were-—~nor how
many there should be there, now? As a matter of fact,
there are twenty-seven rings there-—you can ’t say that is
the right number?”
“ No, ” answered Zillah, ‘ ‘and my grandfather couldn’t
have said, either. A ring might be dropped into that
tray—or a ring taken out. They are all old 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 the value of the least valuable
ring there, and what is that of the most valuable?”
Zillah glanced almost indifierently 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 worth more.”
“And—they are all old?”
“They are all of old-fashioned workmanship,” said
Zillah. “Made a good many years ago, all of them-
The diamonds, or pearls, are all right, of course."
Mr. Parminter handed over the half-sheet of paper
on which Lauriston’s rings had been exhibited to the
Coroner and the jurymen.
“Look at those rings, if you please,” he said quietly.
“Are they of the same 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?” en-
quired Mr. Parminter. ‘ ‘Please give us your professional
opinion.”


MELKY INTERVENES 85?
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 wee ,” replied Zillah-
She had flushed at the mention of Lauriston’s name,
and Mr. Parminter was quick 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? ”
I ( 7 7
“You had never seen him before?”
I (No. 7 7
“Ever seen him since?”
Zillah hesitated for a moment.
“I saw him—accidentally—in Kensington Gardens,
on Sunday,” she answered at last.
“Have any conversation with him?”
“Yes,” admitted Zillah.
‘ ‘ About—pawnbroking ? ’ ’
“No!” retored Zillah. “About his work—writing.”
“Did he tell you he was very hard up '2”
“I knew that!” said Zillah. “Hadn’t he pawned his
watch?”
“Perhaps—you seem to be a very good business wo-
man—perhaps you gave him some advice?’ ’
“Yes, I did! I advised him- as long as he ’d anything
on which he could raise money, not to let himself go
without money in his pocke . ” ,
“Excellent advice!” said Mr. Parminter, with a smile.


MELKY INTERVENES 87‘
what we've been hearing all the morning. What about
that book, now, Mr. Ayscough? Come on !—what about
it !—and its owner?”
“What is this?” demanded the Coroner. “If there is
anything?"
“Anything, sir!” exclaimed Melky. “There’s just
this—between the time that my cousin there, Miss Zillah
Wildrose left the old man alive, and the time when Mr.
Lauriston found him dead, somebody came into the shop
as left a valuable book behind him on the parlour table,
which book, according to all the advertisements in the
morning papers, is the property of Mr. Spencer Leven-
dale, the Member of Parliament, as lives in Sussex Square.
Why ain’t that matter brought up? Why ain’t Mr. Lev-
endale brought here? I ask you, Mr. Coroner, to have it.
seen into! There’s more behind it—”
The Coroner held up a hand and beckoned the police
inspector and Mr. Parminter to approach his desk; a
moment later, Ayscough was summoned. And Lauris-
ton, watching the result of this conference, was quickly
aware that the Coroner was not particularly pleased; he
suddenly turned on the inspector 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?” he demanded. “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 been
mentioned, at once. I shall adjourn for a week, from
today, and you will produce the book and bring Mr.
Spencer Levendale here as a witness. This day week,,
gentlemen ! ’ ’


88 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Melky Rubinstein turned, whispered a hurried word
to Zillah and Mrs. Goldmark, and then, seizing Lauriston
by the elbow, drew him quickly away from the court.


CHAPTER ELEVEN
-ran max noon
Once outside in the street, Melky turned down the
nearest side-street, motioning Lauriston to follow him.
Before they had gone many yards he edged himself close
to his companion ’s side, at the same time throwing a eati-
tious glance over his own shoulder.
“There’s one o’ them blooming detectives after us2”‘
said Melky. “But that’s just what ’s to be expected,
mister !—the'y’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 have to put a hand
on the chap that scragged my uncle. That’s a fiaetl
Mister !—will you put your trust and confidence in me,
and do what I tell you? It ’s for your own good.”
“I don’t know that I could do better,” responded
Lauriston, after a moment ’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 con-
sulted it.
“It’s dinner-time,” he said. “Come round to Mrs.
Go1dmark’s and get some grub. I’1l tell you what to»
so


90 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
do while we’re eating. I’ve been thinking things over
while that there Parminter was badgering poor Zillah,
and s’elp me, there only is one thing for you to do, and
you’d best to do it sharp! But come on to Praed Street
—don’t matter if this here chap behind does shadow you
—I can get the better of him as easy as I could sell this
watch! It ’ud take all the detectives in London to beat
me, if I put my mind to it.”
They were at Mrs. Goldmark’s eating-house in five
minutes: Melky, who knew all the ins and outs of that
establishment, conducted Lauriston into an inner room,
and to a corner wherein there was comparative privacy,
and summoned a waitress. Not until he and his com-
panion were half way through their meal did he refer to
the business which was in his thoughts: then he leaned
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, except that 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 em-


THE BACK DOOR 91
phatically. “Tain’t no use denying it—you’re in a
dangerous position. The police always goes for the
straightest and easiest line. Their line was clear enough,
just now—Parminter give it away! They’ve a theory-
they always have a theory—and when once police gets a
theory, nothing can drive it out 0’ their heads—their
ofiicial heads, anyway.. What they ’re saying, and what
they ’ll try to establish, is this here. That you were hard
up, down to less than your last penny. You went to
Mr. Multenius’s—you peeked and peered through the
shop window and saw him alone, or, perhaps, saw the
place empty. You went in—you grabbed a couple o’
rings—he interrupted you—you scragged him! That’s
their line—and Zillah can’t swear that those rings which
you claim to be yours aren’t her grandfather’s, and up
to now you can ’t prove that they’re yours and were once
your mother’s! Mister !—be ofi to this here Peebles at
once—immediate!—and find somebody, some old friend,
as can swear that he or she—never mind which—knows
them rings to be your property beyond a shadow of
doubt! Bring that friend back—bring him if he has to
come in an invalid carriage!”
Lauriston was so much struck by Melky’s argument
and advice that it needed no more explanations to con-
vince him of its wisdom.
“But—how could I get away?” he asked. “There’ll
be that detective chap hanging 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. The probability is that if they saw me going to a
railway station they ’d arrest me.”


92 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“My own opinion, mister, after what’s taken place this
morning, is that if you 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! There
must be somebody in the old spot as can swear that them
two rings o’ yours is family property, and you must find
’em and bring ’em, if you value your neck- As to slip-
ping the police, I’ll make that right for you, proper!
Now, then, what money have you about you, Mr. Lauris-
ton?”
“Plenty!” answered Lauriston. “Nearly forty
pounds-—the money I got last night.”
“Will you do exactly what I tell you?” asked Melky,
“And do it at once, without any hesitation, any hang-
ing about, any going home to Mother Flitwick’s, or any-
thing o’ that sort '1” .
“Y‘es!” replied Lauriston. “I’m so sure you’re right,
that I will.”
“Then you listen to me—careful,” said Melky. “See
that door in the corner? 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’ll find your-
self in a narrow passage. Go straight down the passage,
and you ’ll come out in Market Street. Go straight down
Southwick Street—you know it—to Oxford and Cam-
bridge Terrace, and you’ll see a cab-rank right in front
of you- Get into a taxi, and tell the fellow to drive you
to Piccadilly Circus. Leave him there—take a turn
round so’s he won’t see what you do—then get into an-
other taxi, and drive to St. Pancras Church. Get out


THE BACK DOOR 93
there—and foot it to King’s Cross Station. You’ll catch
the 3.15 for the North- easy—and after you ’re once in it,
you ’re all right. Get to Peebles!—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 in the corner, and
vanished. And Melky, left alone, pulled out his cig-
arette case, and began to smoke, calmly and quietly.
When the waitress came back, he whispered a word or two
to her; the waitress nodded with full comp!-ehension—
for everybody knew Melky at Goldmark’s, and if the
waitresses wanted a little jewellery now and then, he let
them have it at cost 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 desk in the outer shop. He sipped a cup
of coffee; he smoked several cigarettes; it was quite a
long time before he emerged into Praed Street, button-
ing his overcoat. And without appearing to see any-
thing, he at once saw the man who had followed Lauris-
ton and himself from the Coroner’s Court. Being al-
most preternaturally observant, he also saw the man start
with surprise—but Melky showed, and felt, no surprise,
when the watcher came after him.
“You know me, Mr. Rubinstein, ” he said, almost apol-
ogetically. “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?”


94 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Strikes me you ain’t up to your job!” remarked
Melky, coolly. “He went out, three-quarters of an hour
ago. Gone home, I should say.”
The man turned away, evidently puzzled, but just as
evidently taking Melky’s word. He went ofi in the di-
rection of Star Street, while Melky strolled along to the
pawnbroker’s shop. It was necessary that he should tell
his cousin of what he had done.
Mrs. Goldmark was still with Zillah—Melky unfolded
his story to the two of them. Zillah heard it with un-
feigned relief; Mrs. Goldmark, who, being a young and
pretty widow, was inclined to sentiment, regarded Melky
with admiration.
“My !—if you ain’t the cute one, Mr. Rubinstein!"
she exclaimed, clapping her plump hands. “As for me,
now, I wouldn’t have thought of that in a hundred 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 them police fellows put a hand on young
Lauriston, not me! I’ve my own ideas about this here
business—wait till I put my hand on somebody, see?
Don’t it all come out clear to you ?—if I find the right
man, then there ain’t no 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 your eyes in your head for nothing,
Mr. Rubinstein!”
Zillah, who had listened abstraetedly to these compli-
ments- suddenly turned on her cousin.


THE BACK DOOR 95
“What are you going to do then, Melky?” she de-
manded. “What ’s all this business about that book?
And what steps are you thinking of taking?”
But Melky rose and, shaking his head, buttoned up his
overcoat as if he were buttoning in a multitude of pro-
found secrets.
“What you got to do, just now, Zillah—and Mrs. Gold-
mark, too,” he answered, “is to keep quiet tongues about
what I done with young Lauriston. There ain’t to be a
word said! If any o’ them police come round here, ask-
ing about him, you don ’t know nothing—see? You ain’t
seen him since he walked out o’ that court with me—see?
Which, of course- you ain’t. And as for the ‘1-est, you
leave that to yours truly!”
“Oh, what it is to have a mind!” exclaimed Mrs. Gold-
mark. “I ain’t no mind, beyond managing my busi~
ness!”
“Don ’t you show your mind in managing that?” said
Melky, admiringly. “What do I always say of you,
Mrs. Goldmark? Don ’t I always say you ’re the smartest
business woman in all Paddington? Ain’t that having
a mind? Oh, I think you ’ve the beautifullest mind, Mrs.
Goldmark!”
With this compliment Melky‘ left Mrs. Goldmark and
Zillah, and went away to his lodgings. He was aware
of a taxi-cab drawn up at Mrs. Flitwick’s door as he
went up the street; inside Mrs. Flitwick’s shabby hall he
found that good woman talking to a stranger—a well-
dressed young gentleman, who was obviously asking ques-
tions. Mrs. Flitwick turned to Melky with an air of re=
lief.


96 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Perhaps you can tell this gentleman where Mr.
Lauriston is, Mr. Rubinstein?” she said. “I ain’t seen
him since he went out first thing this morning.”
Melky looked the stranger over—narrowly. Then he
silently beckoned him outside the house, and walked him
out of earshot.
“You ain’t the friend from Scotland?” asked Melky.
“Him what sent the bank-note, last night?”
“Yes!” assented the stranger. “I see you’re aware
of that. My name is Purdie—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 know who you are, and you ’ll know
me in one minute. Come up to my sitting-room!”


CHAPTER TWELVE
TEE FRIEND FROM PEEBI-1%
Melky, as principal lodger in Mrs. Flitwick’s estab-
lishment, occupied what that lady was accustomed to
describe as the front drawing-room fioor—a couple of
rooms opening one into the other. Into one of these,
furnished as a sitting-room, he now led Lauriston’s
friend, hospitably invited him to a seat, and took a quiet
look at him. He at once sized up Mr. John Purdie for
what he was—a well-to-do, well-dressed, active-brained
young busine man, probably accustomed to controlling
and dealing with important afiairs. 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 a tone and manner of implicit confi-
dence. “I’ve heard of you. Me and Mr. Lauriston’s
close friends. My name ’s Mr. Rubinstein—Mr. Melchior
Rubinstein, commonly called Melky. I know all about
you-—you’re the friend that 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 for two of his lit’ry works-
stories, mister. Mister !—I wish he ’d got your money
and the other money just an hour before it come to hand!
97


98 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
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 t‘he remotest notion of what you’re talking
about, you know,” said Purdie good-naturedly. “You
evidently know more than I do. I knew Andie Lauris-
ton well enough up to the time he left Peebles, but I’ve
never seen or heard of him since until he wrote to me
the other week. What ’s it all about, and why has he
gone back to Peebles? I told him I was coming up here
any day now—and here I am, and he ’s gone!”
Melky edged his chair still nearer to his visitor, and
with a cautious glance at the door, lowered his voice.
“I’m a-going to tell you all about it, mister,” he said.
“I know you Scotch gentlemen have got rare headpieces
on you, and you’ll pick it up sharp enough. Now you
listen to me, Mr. Purdie, same as if I was one of them
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, as interesting as he was amusing, listened at-
tentively while Melky told the story of Lauriston’s doings
and adventure from the moment of his setting out to
pawn his watch at Multenius’s pledge-ofiice to that in
which, on Melky’s suggestion, he had made a secret and
hurried departure for Peebles. Melky forgot no detail;
he did full justice to every important point, 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!” con-
cluded Melky. “Could I ha’ done better for him than
to give him the advice I did? Wasn’t it best for him


THE FRIEND FROM PEEBLES 99
to go where he could get some evidence on his own behalf,
than to rim the risk of being arrested, and put where he
couldn’t do nothing for himself? What d’you say, now,
Mr. Purdie?”
“Yes,” agreed Purdie, after a moment ’s further
thought. “I think you did well. He ’ll no doubt be able
to find some old friends in Peebles who can surely re-
member that his mother did possess those two rings.
But you must bear this in mind—the police, you say,
have shadowed him since yesterday afternoon. .Well,
when they find he’s flown, they’ll take that as a strong
presumptive evidence of guilt. They’ll say he ’s flying
from justice!”
“Don’t matter, mister, if Lauriston comes back with
proof of his innocence,” 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 or overlooked—unless
he ’s changed a lot this late year or two-—he was always
a 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 to the police au-
thorities, and tell them frankly that Lauriston has gone
to get evidence that those rings are really his property,
and that he ‘ll return in a day or two with that evidence.
That will probably satisfy them—I think I can add a bit
more that will help further. We don’t want it to be
thought that the lad’s run away rather than face a pos-
sible charge of murder, you know!”
E!!


100 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“I see your point, mister, I see your point!” agreed
Melky. “I’m with you !—I ain’t no objection to that.
Of course, there ain’t no need to tell the police precisely
where he has gone—what?”
“Not a bit!” said Purdie. “But I’1l make myself
responsible to them for his re-appearance. Now— did
you and he arrange anything about communicating with
each other?”
“Yes,” replied Melky. “If anything turns up this
next day or two I’m to wire to him at the post-ofiice,
Peebles. If he finds what he wants, he’ll wire 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-ofiice. 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. “He was staying at
an hotel in the Highlands, with his children and their
governess: I was at the same hotel, for a month—he and
I used to go fishing together. We got pretty friendly,
and he asked me to call on him 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,
that Lauriston is in some danger over this business, and
to ask him if he can tell me more about—that book!”
Melky jumped up and wrung his visitor ’s hand.
“Mister !—you’re one o’ the right sort,” he said fer-
yently. “That there book has something to do with it!


THE FRIEND FROM PEEBLES 101
My idea is that the man what carried that book into the
shop is the man what scragged my poor old relative-—
fact, mister! Levendale, he wouldn’t tell us anything
much this morning—m.aybe he’ll tell you more. Stand
by Lauriston, mister !—we ’ll pull him through.”
“You seem very well disposed towards him, ” remarked
Purdie. “He’s evidently taken your fancy.”
“And my cousin Zillah’s,” answered Melky, with a
confidential grin. “Zillah—loveliest girl in all Padding-
ton, mister%he’s clear gone on the young fellow! And
—a word in your ear, mister !—Zillah’s been educated
like a lady, and now that the old man’s gone, Zillah’ll
have—ah! a fortune that ’ud make a nigger turn white!
And no error about it! See it through, 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 that taxi-cab down-
stairs—I drove straight here from the station, because I
wanted to see Andie Lauriston at once.”
“Money’s no object to you, I reckon, mister?” asked
Melky, with a shrewd glance 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,” said Melky. “That ’ll suit a young gen-
tleman like you, mister, down to the ground- 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 enabled Purdie to put some different ide.as


102 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
into the ofiicial heads. They began to look at matters in
a new light. Here was a wealthy young Scottish manu-
facturer, a person of standing and position, who was able
to vouch for Andrew 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 that Lauriston
had said about the rings and about his finding of Daniel
Multenius would be found to be absolutely true. They
willingly agreed to move no further in the matter until
Lauriston’s return—and Purdie noticed, not without a
smile, that they pointedly refrained from asking where he
had gone to. He came out from that interview with
Ayscough in attendance upon him—and Melky, waiting
without, saw that things had gone all right.
“You might let me have your London address, sir,”
said Ayscough. “I might want to let you know some-
thing.”
“Great Western Hotel,” answered Purdie. “I shall
..stay there until Lauriston’s return, and until this mat-
"ter’s entirely cleared up, as far as he’s concerned. Come
there, if you want me. All right,” he continued, as he
and Melky walked away from the police-station. “ They
took my word for it !—they’ll do nothing until Lauriston
comes back. Now then, you know this neighbourhood,
and I don’t—show me the way to Sussex Square—I’m
going to call on Mr. Levendale at once.”
John Purdie had a double object in calling on Mr.
Spencer Levendale. He had mentioned to Melky that
when he met Levendale in the Highlands, Levendale,
who was a widower, had his children and their governess
with him. But he had not mentioned that he, Purdie,


THE FRIEND FROM PEEBLES 1031
had fallen in love with the governess, and that one of
his objects in coming to London just then was to renew
his acquaintance with her. It was chiefly of the gover-
ness that he was thinking as he stood on the steps of
the big house in Sussex Square—perhaps, in a few min-
utes, he would see her again.
But Purdie was doomed to see neither Mr. Spencer
Levendale nor the pretty governess that day. Mr. Lev-
endale, 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 pen-
cilled his London address on them, left cards for Mr.
Levendale and Miss Bennett, and, going back to his hotel,
settled himself in his quarters to await developments.
He spent the evening in reading the accounts of the in-
quest on Daniel Multenius—in more than one of the
newspapers they were full and circumstantial, and it
needed little of his shrewd perception to convince him
that his old schoolmate stood in considerable danger if
he failed to establish his ownership of the rings.
He had finished breakfast next morning and was think-
ing 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 pre-
senter 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.
“There’s a strange afiair occurred during the night,
Mr. Purdie,” said Ayscough, when they were alone.


1044‘ THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“And it ’s my opinion it ’s connected with this Multenius
affair.”
“What is it?” asked Purdie.
“This,” replied Ayscough. “A Praed Street trades-
man—in a small way—was picked up, dying, in a quiet
street ofi Maida Vale, at twelve o’clock last night, and
he died soon afterwards. And—he’d been poisoned !—
but how, the doctors can’t yet tell.’ ’


CHAPTER THIRTEEN
rnn CALL non nnnr
Purdie, whose temperament inclined him to slowness
and deliberation in face of any grave crisis, motioned the
detective to take a seat in the quiet corner of the smoking-
room, into which they had retreated, and sat down close
by him.
“Now, to begin with,” he said, “why do you think this
afiair is connected with the affair of the old pawn-broker?
There must be some link.”
“There is a link, sir,” answered Ayscough. “The
man was old Daniel Multenius’s next door neighbour:
name of Parslett—James Parslett, fruit and vegetable
dealer. Smallish way of business, but well known enough
in that 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 on this 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, is Daniel 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: from
that you get access to the pledge-ofiice. Now then, Mul-
tenius’s premises run down one side of this passage: Pars-
lett’s run down the other. Parslett’s house has a side-
door into it, exactly opposite the door into Multenius’s
pledge oflice. Is that clear, Mr. Purdie?”
105


106 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Quite!” answered Purdie. “I understand it ex-
actly.”
“Then my theory is, that Parslett saw the real mur-
derer of Daniel Multenius come out of Multenius’s side-
door, while he, Parslett, was standing at his own; that he
recognized him, that he tried to blackmail him yesterday,
and that the man contrived to poison him, in such a fash-
ion that 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 I”
“What reason have you for thinking that Parslett
blackmailed the murderer?” asked Purdie.
“This!” answered the detective, with something of tri-
umph 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 ’s
Hospital, close by here—he was found to have fifty
pounds in gold in his pocket. Now, according to Pars-
lett’s widow, whom I’ve seen this morning, Parslett was
considerably hard up yesterday. Trade hasn’t been very
good with him of late, and she naturally knows his cir-
cumstances. He went out of the house last night about
nine o’clock, saying he was going to have a stroll round,
and the widow says she ’s certain he ’d no fifty pounds on
him when he left her—it would be a wonder, she says, if
he’d as much as fifty shillings! Now then, Mr. Purdie,
where did a man like that pick up fifty sovereigns be-
tween the time he went out, and the time he was picked
up, dying?”
“He might have borrowed it from some friend,” sug-
gested Purdie. I


THE CALI} FOR HELP 107
“I thought of that, sir,” said Ayscough. “It seems
the natural thing to think of. But Mrs. Parslett says
they haven ’t a friend from whom he could have borrowed
such an amount-—not one! No, sir!—my belief is that
Parslett saw some man enter and leave Multenius’s
shop; that he knew the man; that he went and plumped
him with the affair, and that the man gave him that gold
to get rid of him at the moment—and contrived to poison
him, too!"
Purdie considered the proposition for awhile in si-
lence.
“Well,” he remarked at last, “if that ’s so, it seems to
establish two facts—first, that the murderer is some man
who lives in this neighbourhood, 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 Ays-
cough heartily. “I told our people that I, personally,
was convinced of the young fellow ’s complete innocence
from the very first——and it was I who found him in the
shop. It ’s a most unfortunate thing that he was there,
and a sad coincidence that those rings of his were much
of a muchness with the rings in 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 no
common aifair—old Daniel Multenius was attacked by
somebody—somebody !—for some special reason—and it ’s


108 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
going to take a lot of getting at. And I’m convinced
this Parslett affair is a development—Parslett’s been
poisoned because he knew too mu .”
“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 out to be one of a
very subtle nature, that would prove that whoever ad-
ministered it had made a special study of poisons.”
“I don’t know that—yet,” answered Ayscough.
“But,” he continued, rising from his chair, “if you’d
step round with me to the hospital, we might get to know,
now. There’s one or two of their specialists been mak-
ing an examination. It’s only a mere step along the
street.”
Purdie followed the detective out and along Praed
Street. Before they reached the doors of the hospital, a
man came up to Ayscough: a solid, substantial-looking
person, of cautious manner and watchful eye, whose
glance 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, to com-
municate.
“Beg your pardon, Mr. Ayscough,” he said. “A
.W0rd with you sir. You know me, Mr. Ayscough?”
Ayscough looked sharply at his questioner.
“Mr. Goodyer, isn’t it?” he asked. “Oh, yes, I re-
member. What is it? You can speak before this gen-
tleman—it’s all right.”
“About this affair of last night—Parslett, you know,”
said Goodyer, drawing the detective aside, and lowering


THE CALL FOR HELP 109
his voice, so that passers-by might not hear. “There’s
something I can tell you—I ’ve heard all about the matter
from Parslett’s wife. But I’ve not told her what I can
tell you, Mr. Ayscough.”
“And—what’s that?” enquired the detective.
“I’m Parslett’s landlord, you know,” continued Good-
yer. “He ’s had that shop and dwelling-house of me
for some years. Now, Parslett’s not been doing very
well of late, from one cause or another, and to put it in
a nutshell, he owed me half a year’s rent. I saw him yes-
terday, and told him I must have the money at once:
in fact, I pressed him pretty hard about it.—I’d been at
him for two or three weeks, and I could see it was no good
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 alarm yourself, Mr. Good-
yer,’ he said. ‘There’s a nice bit of money going to be
paid to me tonight, and I’ll settle up with you before I
stick my head on the pillow,’ he said. ‘Tonight, for cer-
tain?’ says I. ‘Before even I go to bed!’ he says. ‘I
can ’t fix it to a minute, but you can rely on me calling at
your house in St. Mary’s Terrace before eleven‘ o’cloek—
with the money.’ And he was so certain about it, Mr.
Ayscough, that I said no more than 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
never came. So this morning, of course, I walked round
here—and then I heard what happened—about him being
picked up dying and since being dead—with fifty pounds
in gold in his pocket. Of course, Mr. Ayscough, that
was the money he referred to.”


110 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“You haven’t mentioned this to anybody?” asked
Ayscough.
“Neither to the widow nor to a.nybody—but you,"
replied Goodyer.
“Don’t !” said Ayscough. “Keep it to yourself till I
give you the word. You didn’t hear anything from Pars-
lett as to where the money was coming from?”
“Not one syllable!” answered Goodyer. “But I could
I86 he was dead sure of having 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 some mystery
about all this affair, Mr. Goodyer, and it’s going to
take some unravelling.”
“You’re right!” said Goodyer. “I believe you!”
He went ofi along the street, and the detective turned
to Purdie and motioned him towards the hospital.
“Queer, all that, sir!” he muttered. “Very queer!
But it all tends to showing that my theory’s the right
one. Now if you ’ll just stop in the waiting-room a few
minutes, I’ll find out if these doctors have come to any
conclusion about the precise nature of the poison-”
Purdie waited for ten minutes, speculating on the
curiosities of the mystery into which he had been so
strangely plunged: at last the detective came back, shak-
ing his head.
“Gan’t get a definite word out of ’em, yet,” he said,
as they went away. “There ’s two or three of ’enr—big
experts in—what do you call it—oh, yes, toxology—put-
ting their heads together over the .analysing business, and
they won ’t say anything so far—they.’ll leave that to the


THE CALL‘ FOR HELP 111
inquest. But I gathered this much, Mr. Purdie, from
the one I spoke to—this man Parslett was poisoned in
some extremely clever fashion, and by some poison that ’s
not generally known, which was administered to him
probably half-an-hour before it took effect. What ’s that
argue, sir, but that whoever gave him that poison is some-
thing of an expert? Deep game, Mr. Purdie, a very deep
game indeed !—and now I don ’t think there ’s much need
to be anxious about that young friend of yours. I’m cer-
tain, anyway, that the man 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 the door;
Melky immediately pulled out a telegram which he thrust
into Purdie’s hand.
“Just come, mister!” exclaimed Melky. “There’s a
word for you in it—I was going 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 Star Street explain all to
him will wire again later in day.”
“Good!” said Purdie. He handed back the telegram
and looked meditatively at Melky. “Are you busy this
morning?” he asked.
“Doing no business whatever, mister,” lisped Melky,
solemnly. “Not until this business is settled—not me!”


112 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Come to the hotel with me,” continued Purdie. “I
want to talk to you about something.”
But when they reached the hotel, all thought of con-
versation was driven out of Purdie’s mind for the mo-
ment. The hall-porter handed him a note, remarking
that it had just come. Purdie’s face flushed as he recog-
nized the handwriting: he turned sharply away and tore
open the envelope. Inside, on a half-sheet of notepaper,
were a few lines—from the pretty governess at Mr.
Spencer Levendale’s.
“Can you come here at once and ask for me?
There is something seriously wrong: I am much
troubled and have no one in London I can con-
suit‘!!
With a hasty excuse to Melky, Purdie ran out of the
hotel, and set ofi in quick response to the note.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE PRIVATE LABORATORY
As he turned down Spring Street towards Sussex
Square, Purdie hastily reviewed his knowledge of Mr.
Spencer Levendale and his family. He had met them,
only two months previously, at a remote and out-of-the
way place in the Highlands, in a hotel where he and they
were almost the only guests. Under such circumstances,
strangers are soon drawn together, and as Levendale
and Purdie had a common interest in fishing they were
quickly on good terms. But Purdie was thinking now
as he made his way towards Levendale’s London house
that he really knew very little of this man who was evi-
dently mixed up in some way with the mystery into which
young Andie Lauriston had so unfortunately also become
intermingled- He knew that Levendale was undoubt-
edly a very wealthy man: there were all the signs of
wealth about him; he had brought several servants down
to the Highlands with him: money appeared to be plen-
tiful with him as pebbles are on a beach. Purdie learnt
bit by bit that Levendale had made a great fortune in
South 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 chil-
dren’s governess, Miss Elsie Bennett, a pretty and tak-
ing girl of twenty-two or three, had come with them from
113


114 THE ORANGE—YELLOW DIAMOND
Cape Town. But of Levendale’s real character and self
he knew no more than could be gained from holiday ac-
quaintance. Certain circumstances told him by Melky
about the rare book left in old Multenius’s parlour in-
clined Purdie to be somewhat suspicious that Levendale
was concealing something which he lmew about that af-
fair—and now here was Miss Bennett writing what, on
the face of it, looked like an appealing letter to him, as
if something had happened.
Purdie knew something had happened as soon as he
was admitted to the house. Levendale’s butler, who had
accompanied his master to the Highlands, and had rec-
ognized Purdie on his calling the previous day, came
hurrying 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?” he asked, 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, “though it’s pretty well known in the
house already. The fact is, sir, Mr. Levendale’s miss-
ing!n
“Missing?” exclaimed Purdie. “Since when?”
“Only since last night, sir,” replied the butler, “but
the circumstances are 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
went into his laboratory—he spends a lot of time in ex-


THE PRIVATE LABORATORY 115
pcrimenting in chemistry, you know, sir—and he called
me in there. ‘I’m going out again for an hour, Gray-"
son,’ 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 nothing in that, Mr. Purdie, and I waited for
him. But he never came home—and no message came.
He never came home at all—and this morning I’ve tele-
phoned to his two clubs, and to one or two other places in
the City—nobody’s seen or heard anything of him. And
I can’t think what ’s happened—it’s all so unlike his
habits.” 4
“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—he turned up Paddington way.”
“You didn’t notice anything out of the common about
him?” suggested Purdie.
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 which Levendale had received Ayscough
and his companions into a small room that opened out
of it.
Purdie, looking round him, found that he was stand-
ing in a laboratory, furnished with chemical apparatus
of the latest descriptions. Implements and appli-
ances were on all sides; there were rows of bottles on
the shelves; a library of technical books filled a large
book-case; everything in the place betokened the pursuit
of a scientific investigator. And Purdie’s keen sense of


116 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
smell immediately noted the prevalent atmosphere of
drugs 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 bottles into a
small phial, Mr. Purdie—he put the phial in his waist-
coat pocket. Look at those bottles, sir—you’ll see they
all contain poison!—you can tell that by the make of
’em‘!!
Purdie glanced at the shelf which the butler indicated.
The bottles ranged on it were all of blue glass, and all
triangular in shape, and each bore a red label with the
word Poison prominently displayed.
“Odd!” he said. “You’ve some idea?” he went on,
looking closely at the butler. “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 into a phial, which he carefully puts
in his pocket, and when he goes out, and when 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. “There may be some quite good reason
for Mr. Levendale’s absence. He ’d no trouble of 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 it out, sir. You
see, I’ve been with him ever since he came back to Eng-


THE PRIVATE LABORATORY 117
land—some years now—and I know his habits, thor-
oughly. However, we can only wait—I believe Miss Ben-
nett sent for you, Mr. Purdie?”
“Yes,” said Purdie. “She did.”
“This way, sir,” said the butler. “Miss Bennett’s
alone, now—the children have just gone out with their
nurses.”
He led Purdie through the house to a sitting-room
looking out on the garden 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 to do—until we hear
something.”
Left alone, Purdie and Elsie Bennett looked at each
other as they shook hands. She was a fair, slender girl,
naturally shy and retiring; she was manifestly shy at
renewing her acquaintance with Purdie, and Purdie him-
self, conscious of his own feelings towards her, felt a
certain embarrassment and awkwardness.
“You sent for me,” he said brusquely. “I came the
instant I got your note. Grayson kept me talking down-
stairs. 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 seem strange, but
it ’s a fact !—I couldn’t think of anybody else! It seemed
so fortunate that you were in London—and close by. I
felt that—that I could depend on you.”
“Thank you,” said Purdie. “Well—you can! And
—what is it?”


118 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Grayson’s told you about Mr. Levendale’s going out
last night, and never coming back, nor sending any mes-
sage?” she continued. “As Grayson says, considering
Mr. Levendale’s habits, that is certainly very strange!
But—I want to tell you something beyond that—I must
tell somebody! And I know that if I tell you you’ll
keep it secret—until, or unless you think you ought to
tell it to—the police I”
Purdie started.
“The police!” he exclaimed. “What is it?”
Elsie Bennett turned to a table, and picked up 8
couple of newspapers.
“Have you read this Praed Street mystery affair?” she
asked. “I mean the account of the inquest?”
“Every word—and heard more, besides,” answered
Purdie. “That young fellow, Andie Lauriston, is an old
sehoolmate and friend of mine. I came here yesterday
to see him, and found him plunged into this business.
Of course, he ’s absolutely innocen .”
“Has he been arrested?” asked Elsie, almost eagerly.
“No !” replied Purdie. “He’s gone away—to get evi-
dence that those rings which are such a feature of the
case are really his and were his mother ’s.”
“Have you noticed these particulars, at the end of
the inquest, about the book which was found in the pawn-
broker’s parlour?” she went on. “The Spanish manu-
script?”
“Said to have been lost by Mr. Levendale in an omni-
bus,” answered Purdie. “Yes! What of it?”
The girl bent nearer to him.
“It seems a dreadful thing to say,” she whispered,


THE PRIVATE LABORATORY 119
\
“but I must tell somebody—I can ’t, I daren’t keep it to
myself any longer! Mr. Levendale'isn’t telling the truth
about that book!”
Purdie involuntarily glanced at the door—and drew
his chair nearer to Elsie’s.
“You’re sure of that?” he whispered. “Just so!
Now—in what way?”
“It says here," answered Elsie, tapping the news-
papers with her finger, “that Mr. Levendale lost this
book in a ’bus, which he left at the corner of Chapel
Street, and that he was so concerned about the loss that
he immediately sent advertisements ofl’ to every morning
newspaper in London. The last part of that is true-
the first part is not true! Mr. Levendale did not lose
his book—he did not leave it in the ’bus! I’m sorry to
have to 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 and suspicion. The clouds centring round
Levendale were certainly thickening.
“Now, just tell me—how do you know all this?” he
asked. “Rely on me- to the full!”
“I’ll tell you,” replied Elsie, readily. “Because,
about four o’elock on the afternoon of the old man’s
death, I happened to be at the corner of Chapel 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 was carrying that book in
his hand I ’ ’
“You’re sure it was that book?” asked Purdie.
“According to the description given in this account


120 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
and in the advertisement—yes,” she answered. “I no-
tieed the fine binding. Although Mr. Levendale didn’t
see me—there were a lot of people about—I was close to
him. I am sure it was the book described here.”
“And—he went in the direction of the pawnshop?”
said Purdie. “What on earth 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 butler entered, bearing an open telegram in
his hand. His face wore an expression of relief.
“Here’s a wire from Mr. Levendale, Miss Bennett,”
he said. “It’s addressed to me. He says, ‘Shall be
away from home, on business, for a few days. Let all go
on as usual.’ That’s better, miss! But,” continued
Grayson, glancing at Purdie, “it ’s still odd—for do you
.see, sir, where that wire has been sent from? Spring
$treet-—close byl"


CHAPTER FIFTEEN
oonrmancm
Purdie was already sufiiciently acquainted with the
geography of the Paddington district to be aware of
the significance of Grayson’s remark. The Spring
Street Post Ofiice, at which Levendale’s wire had been
handed in, was only a few minutes’ walk from the house
—it stood, in fact, between Purdie’s hotel and Sussex
Square, and he had passed it on his way to Levendale’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 to do but walk down one
street and turn the corner of another to give his message
in person-
“Sent ofi, do you see, sir, twenty minutes ago,” ob-
served the butler, pointing to some figures in the tele-
gram form. “So—Mr. Levendale must have been close
by—then!”
“Not necessarily,” remarked Purdie. “He may have
sent a messenger with that wire—perhaps he himself was
catching a train at Paddington.”
Grayson shook his head knowingly.
“There ’s a telegraph ofiice 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 gov-
121


122 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
erness. 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. “Look here !—I ’m going to ask you a ques-
tion. What do you know of Mr. Levendale? You’ve
been governess to his children for some time, haven’t
you I’ ’
“For six months before he left Cape Town, and ever
since we all came to England, three years ago,” she
answered. “I know that he ’s very rich, and a very busy
man, and a member of Parliament, and that he goes to
the City a great deal—and that ’s all! He’s a very re-
served man, too—of course, he never tells me anything.
I’ve never had any conversation with him excepting
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, when I myself saw him leave the
’bus with it in his hand, and go down Praed Street with
it?” she asked. “Doesn’t it look as if he were the per-
son who left 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 that he did leave it there,” re-
marked Purdie, quietly. “There ’s more in all this than
lies on the surface. You wanted my advice! Very well
—don’t say anything to anybody till you see me again.


CONFERENCE 128
I must go now—there’s a man waiting for me at my
hotel. I may call again, mayn’t I?”
“Do!” she said, giving him her hand. “I am both-
ered about this—it’s useless 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 the conversation to more personal matters. But
he was essentially a business man, and the matters of
the moment seemed to be critical. So he promised to
return, and then hurried back to his hotel—to find
Melky Rubinstein pacing up and down outside the
entrance.
Purdie tapped Melky’s shoulder and motioned him
to walk along Praed Street.
“Look here!” he said. “I want you to take me to
see your cousin—and the pawnshop. We must have a
talk—you said your cousin ’s a good business woman.
She’s the sort we can discuss business with, eh?”
“My cousin Zillah Wildrose, mister,” answered Melky,
solemnly, “is one of the best! She’s a better headpiece
on her than what I have--and that’s saying 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’ve done. What about this here affair of
last night 'I—I’ve just seen Mr. Ayscough, passing along
-—he’s told me all about it. Do you think it’s anything
to do with our business?”
“Can’t say,” answered Purdie. “Wait till we can
discuss matters with your cousin.”
Melky led the way to the side-door of the pawnshop.
Since the old man’s death, the whole establishment had


124 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
been closed—Zillah had refused to do any business until
her grand.'Eather’s funeral was over. She received her
visitors in the parlour where old Daniel had been found
dead: after a moment’s inspection of her, and the ex-
change of a few remarks about Lauriston, Purdie sug-
gested that they should all sit down and talk matters
over.
“Half-a-mo!” said Melky. “If we’re going to have
I a cabinet council, mister, there’s a lady that I want to
bring into it—Mrs. Goldmark. I know something that
Mrs. Goldmark can speak to—I’ve just been considering
matters while I was waiting for you, Mr. Purdie, and
I ’m going to tell you and Zillah, and Mrs. Goldmark, of
a curious fact that I know of. I’ll fetch her—and while
I’m away Zillah’ll show you that there book what was
found there. ”
Purdie looked with interest at the Spanish manuscript
which seemed to be a factor of such importance.
“I suppose you never saw this before?” he asked, as
Zillah laid it on the table before him. “And you’re
certain it wasn’t in the place when you went out that
afternoon, leaving your grandfather alone Q”
“That I’m positive of,” answered Zillah. “I never
saw it in my life until my attention was drawn to it after
he was dead. That book was brought in here during my
absence, and it was neither bought nor pawned—that’s
absolutely certain! Of course, you know who’s book
it is?”
“Mr. Spencer Levendale’s,” answered Purdie- “Yes
-—I know all those particulars—and about his advertise-
ments for it, and a little more. And I want to discuss


CONFERENCE 125
all that with you and your cousin. This Mrs. Goldmark
—she’s to be fully trusted?”
Zillah replied that Mrs. Goldmark was worthy of en-
tire confidence, and an old friend, and Melky presently
returning with her, Purdie suggested they should all
sit down and talk—informally and in strict privacy.
“You know why I’m concerning myself in this?” he
said, looking round at his three companions. “I’m
anxious that Andie Lauriston should be fully and entirely
cleared! I’ve great faith in him—he’s beginning what I
believe will be a successful career, and it would be a ter-
rible thing if any suspicion rested on him. So I want, for
his sake, to thoroughly clear up this mystery about your
relative ’s death.”
“Mister!” said Melky, in his most solemn tones.
“Speaking for my cousin there, 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
the first, knowing the young fellow as we do. So we’re
with you in that matter, ain’t we, Zillah?”
“Mr. Purdie feels sure of that,” agreed Zillah, with a
glance at Lauriston’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 consider the question of approaching the
police when we’ve talked amongst ourselves. Now--
I want to ask you some very private questions. They
spring out 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 business relations with
the late Mr. Rubinstein?’ ’


126 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Zillah shook her head.
“None !—that I know of,” she answered. “I’ve
helped my grandfather in this business for some time.
I never heard him mention Mr. Levendale. Mr. Lev-
endale 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 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. We—it’s no use denying it-—
we don ’t know all about it. His solicitor ’s maldng some
enquiries—I expect him here, any time, today.”
“It comes to this,” observed Purdie. “Your grand-
father met his death by violence, the man who attacked
him came in here during your absence. The question I
want to get solved is—was the man who undoubtedly
left that book 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 no-
body—as yet!” he said. “Not even to Zillah. After
this here parlour had been cleared, I took a look round.
I’ve very sharp eyes, Mr. Purdie. I found this here—-
half-hidden under the rug there, where the poor old man


CONFERENCE 127
had been lying.” He pulled out the platinum solitaire,
laid it on the palm of one hand, and extended the hand
to Mrs. Goldmark. “You’ve seen the like of that be-
fore, ain’t you?” asked Melky.
“Mercy be upon us!” gasped Mrs. Goldmark, start-
ing in her seat. “ I ’ve the fellow to it lying in my desk!”
“And it was left on a table in your restaurant,” eon-
tinued Melky, “by a man what looked like a Colonial
party—I know !—I saw it by accident in your place the
other night, and one 0’ your girls told me. Now then,
Mr. Purdie, here’s a bit more of puzzlement-and per-
haps a clue. These here platinum solitaire cuff-links are
valuable-—they’re worth—well, I’d give a good few
pounds for the pair. Now who ’s the man who lost one
in this here parlour—right there !—and the other in Mrs.
Goldmark’s restaurant? F‘or—it’s a pair! There’s no
doubt about that, mister !—there ’s that same curious and
unusual device on each. Mister !—them studs has at
some time or 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, fer-
vently, “is in my desk! It was dropped on one of our
tables a few afternoons ago by a man who, as Mr. Rubin-
stein says, looked like one of those Colonials. Leastways,
my waitress, Rosa, she picked it up exactly where he’d


CHAPTER SIXTEEN
-rnn nmncnvn cams
Mr. Penniket, to whom the two cousins and Mrs. Gold-
mark were evidently very well known, looked a polite
enquiry at the stranger as he took the chair which Melky
drew forward for him.
“As Mr. Purdie is presumably discussing this affair
with you,” he observed, “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 to speak—you can tell us any-
thing you like, before him. We were going into details
when you come-—there’s some strange business on, Mr.
Penniket! And we want to get a bit clear about it be-
fore we tell the police what we know.”
“You know something that they don’t know?” asked
Mr. Penniket.
“More than a bit!” replied Melky, laconically.
“This here afl'air’s revolving itself into a network,
nister, out of which somebody ’s going to find it hard work
to break through!”
The solicitor, who had been quietly inspecting Purdie,
gave him a sly smile.
“Then before I tell you what I have just found out,”
he said, turning to Melky, “I think you had better tell
me all you know, and what you have been discussing.
129


THE DETECTIVE CALLS 131
“Not that Daniel Multenius revealed any of them to
me!” he continued. “I have acted for him in legal
matters 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 property owner—I did all his
work of that sort. But as regards his secrets, I know
nothing—except that since yesterday, I have discovered
that he certainly had them. I have, as Miss Wildrose
knows—and by her instructions—been making some en-
quiries at the bank where Mr. Multenius kept his ac-
count—the Empire and Universal, in Lombard Street-
and I have made some curious unearthings in the course
of them. Now then, between ourselves—Mr. Purdie be-
ing represented to me as in your entire confidenee—I
may as well tell you that Daniel Multenius most cer-
tainly had dealings of a business nature completely out-
side his business as jeweller and pawnbroker in this shop.
That ’s positively certain. And what is also certain is
that in some of those dealings he was, in some way or an-
other, intimately associated with the 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, say that he didn’t know the poor
old fellow !”
“Very likely,” said Mr. Penniket, drily. “It was not
convenient to him—we will assume—to admit that he did,
just then. But I have discovered—from the bankers-—
that precisely two years ago, Mr. Spencer Levendale paid
to Daniel Multenius a sum of ten thousand pounds.
That ’s a fact!”


182 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“For wilt, mister?” demanded Melky.
“Can’t say—nobody can say,” answered the solicitor.
"All the same, he did—paid it in, himself, to Daniel"
Multenius’s credit, at the Empire and Universal. It
went into the ordinary account, in the ordinary way, and
was used by Mr. Multenius as part of his own et.fects—
as no doubt it was. Now,” continued Mr. Penniket.
turning to Zillah, “I want to ask you a particular ques-
tion. I know you had assisted your grandfather a great
deal of late years. Had you anything to do with his
banking account?”
“No !” replied Zillah, promptly. “That’s the one
thing I never had anything to do with. I never saw his
pass-book, nor his deposit-book, nor even his cheque-book.
He kept all that to himself.”
“Just so,” said Mr. Penniket. “Then, of course, you
don ’t know that he dealt with considerable sums—evi-
dently quite outside this business. He made large—
sometimes very heavy—payments. And—this, I am con-
vinced, is of great importance to the question we are
trying to solve—most of these payments were sent to
South Africa.”
The solicitor glanced round his audience as if anxious
to see that its various members grasped the significance
of this announcement. And Melky at once voiced the
first impression of, at any rate, three of them.
“Levendale comes from those parts!” he muttered.
“Came here some two or three years ago—by all I can
gather.”
“Just so,” said Mr. Penniket. “Therefore, possibly
this South African business, in which my late client was


THE DETECTIVE CALLS 133
undoubtedly engaged, is connected with Mr. Levendale.
That can be found out. But I have still more to tell
you—perhaps, considering everything, the most impor-
tant matter of the whole lot. On Monday morning last
—that would be a few hours before his dea.th—Mr. Mul-
tenius called at the bank and took from it a small packet
which he had entrusted to his banker’s keeping only a
fortnight previously. The bankers do not know what was
in that packet—he had more than once got them to take
care of similar packets at one time or another. But
they described it to me just now. A packet, evi-
dently enclosing a small, hard box, some four or five
inches square in all directions, wrapped in strong cart-
ridge paper, and heavily sealed with red wax. It bore
Mr. Multenius’s name and address—written by himself.
Now, then, Miss Wildrose—he took that packet away
from the bank at about twelve-thirty on Monday 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, since my grandfather
died, and I’ve not found anything that I didn’t know of.
I remember that he went out last Monday morning—he
was away two hours, and came in again about a quarter
past one, but I never saw such a packet in his possession
as that you describe. I know nothing of it.”
“Well,” said the solicitor, after a pause, “there are
the facts. And the question now is—ought we not to tell
all this to the police, at once? This connection of Leven-
dale with my late client—as undoubted as it seems to
have been secret—needs investigation. According to Mr.


THE DETECTIVE CALLS 135
the authorities there everything that is known. Why
not'!”
“Very good,” said Mr. Penniket. “Then it will be
well if you two come with me. The more information we
can give to the heads of the Criminal Investigation De-
partment, 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 your restaurant?”
“Did I see him?” exclaimed Mrs. Goldmark. “Do I
see you, Zillah? See him I did !—though never before,
and never since! And ain’t I the good memory for faces
—and won’t I know him again if he comes my way? Do
you know what ?—I ain’t never forgotten a face what
I’ve once looked at! Comes from keeping an eye on cus-
tomers who looks as if they might have forgot to bring
their moneys with ’em ! ”
“Well, I hope you’ll see this man again,” remarked
Zillah. “I’d give a lot to get all the mystery cleared
up]:
Mrs. Goldmark observed that mysteries were not
cleared up in a day, and presently 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 restau-
rant every hour or two to keep an eye on things. And
during one of her absences, later in the early evening of
that day, Zillah, alone in the house, answered a knock
at the door, and opening it' found Ayscough outside.


136 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
His look betokened news, and Zillah led him into the par-
lour.
“Alone?” asked Ayscough. “Aye, well, I’ve some-
thing to tell you that I want you to keep to yourself—
for a bit, anyway. Those rings, you know, that the young
fellow, Lauriston, says are his, and had been his
mother’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 comparing them with the
rings that are in your tray. And in that tray there
are several rings which have a private mark inside them.
Now, then !—those two rings 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 efl'ect of his news, saw her turn very pale.
She stood staring at him during a moment’s silence;
then she let a sharp exclamation escape her lips, and in
the same instant her colour came back—heightened from
surprise and indignation.
“Impossible!” she said. “I can’t believe it; There
may be marks inside our rings—that’s likely enough.
But how could those marks correspond with the marks 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 have all the rings care-
fully examined by an expert—he got a man from one of
the jeweller’s shops in Edgware Road. This chap very
soon pointed out that inside the two rings which young
Lauriston says are his, and come to him from his mother,
are certain private marks—jewellers’ marks, this man
called ’em—which are absolutely identical with similar
marks which are inside some of the rings in the tray
which was found on this table. That ’s a fact !—I tell you
I’ve seen ’em—all! And—you see the significance of
it! Of course, our people are now dead certain that
young Lauriston’s story is false, and that he grabbed
those two rings out of that tray. See?”
137


138 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“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 the first, that the lad’s innocent
enough. But it’s a queer thing—and it’s terribly
against him. And—what possible explanation can there
be?”
“You say you’ve seen those marks,” said Zillah.
“Would you know them again—on other goods?”
“I should!” replied Ayscough. “I can tell you what
they are. There ’s the letter M. and then two crosses-
one on each side of the letter. Very small, you know,
and worn, too—this man I’m talking of used some sort
of a 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 a metallic tinkling; presently
the girl came back, carrying a velvet-lined tray in one
hand, and a jeweller’s magnifying glass in the other.
“The rings in that tray you’re talking ab0ut—the one
you took away—are all very old stock,” she remarked.
“I’ve heard my grandfather say he’d had some of them
thirty years or more. Here are some similar ones—we’ll
see if they ’re marked in the same fashion.”
Five minutes later, Zillah had laid aside several rings
marked in the way Ayscough had indicated, and she
turned from them to him with a look of alarm.
“I can’t understand it!” she exclaimed. “I know
that these rings, and those in that tray at the police’
station, are part of old stock that my grandfather had
when he came here. He used to have a shop, years ago,


140 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
warmly. “I won’t forget your kindness. And I’m cer-
tain this about the marks can be cleared up—but I don ’t
know how!”
“Well—do as I say,” said the detective. “Just give
the tip to your cousin Melky, and to that young Scotch
gentleman—let ’em keep Lauriston out of the way for
a few days. In the meantime—this is a very queer case!
—something may happen that ’ll fix the guilt on some-
body else—conclusively. I’ve my own ideas and opin-
ions—but we shall see. Maybe we shall see a lot—and
everybody’ll be more astonished than they’re thinking
for.”
With this dark and sinister hint, Ayscough went away,
and Zillah took the rings back to the shop, and locked
them up again. And then she sat down to wait for Mrs.
Goldmark—and to think. She had never doubted
Lauriston’s story for one moment, and she did not doubt
it now. But she was quick to see the serious significance
of what the detective had just told her~ and she realized
that action must be taken on the lines he had suggested.
And so, having made herself ready for going out, she
excused herself to Mrs. Golclmark when that good lady
returned, and without saying anything to her as to the
nature of her errand, hurried round to Star Street, to
find Melky Rubinstein and tell him of the new develop-
mcnt.
Mrs. Flitwick herself opened the door to Zillah and
led her into the narrow passage. But at the mention of
Melky she shook her head.
“I ain’t set eyes on Mr. Rubinstein not since this


WHAT THE LAMPS SHONE ON 141
morning, miss,” said she. “He went out with that young
Scotch gentleman what come here yesterday asking for
Mr. Lauriston, and he’s never been in again—not even
to put his nose inside the door. And at twelve o’clock
there come a telegram for him—which it was the second
that come this morning. The first, of course, he got be-
fore he went out; the one that come at noon’s awaiting
him. No—I ain’t seen him all day!”
Zillah’s quick wits were instantly at work as soon as
she heard of the telegram.
“Oh, I know all about that wire, Mrs. Flitwick!” she
exclaimed. “It’s as much for me as for my cousin.
Give it to me—and if Mr. Rubinstein comes in soon—or
when he comes—tell him I’ve got it, and ask him to
come round to me immediately—it’s important.”
Mrs. Flitwick produced the telegram at once, and Zil-
lah, repeating her commands about Melky, hurried away
with it. But at the first street lamp she paused, and tore
open the envelope, and pulled out the message. As she
supposed, it was from Lauriston, and had been handed
in at Peebles at eleven o’clock that morning.
\
“Got necessary information returning at once
meet me at King’s Cross at nine-twenty this
evening. L.”
Zillah looked at her watch. It was then ten minutes
to nine. There was just half an hour before Lauriston’s
train was due. Without a moment’s hesitation, she
turned back along Star Street, hurried into Edgware
Road' and hailing the first ‘taxi-cab she saw, bade its


142 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
driver to get to the Great Northern as fast as possible.
Whatever else happened, Lauriston must be met and
warned.
The taxi-cab made good headway along the l\Iaryle-
bone and Euston Roads, and the hands of the clock over
the entrance to King ’s Cross had not yet indicated a
quarter past nine when Zillah was set down close by.
She hurried into the station, and to the arrival platform.
All the way along in the cab she had been wondering
what to do when she met Lauriston—not as to what she
should tell him, for that was already settled, but as to
what to advise him to do about following Ayscough’s
suggestion and keeping out of the way, for awhile. She
had already seen enough of him to know that he was
naturally of high spirit and courage, and that he would
hate the very idea of hiding, or of seeming to run away.
Yet, what other course was open if he wished to avoid
arrest? Zillah, during her short business experience-
had been brought in contact with the police authorities
and their methods more than once, and she knew that
there is nothing the professional detective likes so much
as to follow the obvious—as the easiest and safest. She
had been quick to appreciate all that Ayscough told her
—she knew how the police mind would reason about it:
it would be quite enough for it to know that on the
rings which Andy Lauriston said were his there were
marks which were certainly identical with those on her
grandfather’s property: now that the police authorities
were in possession of that fact, they would go for Lauris-
ton without'demur or hesitation, leaving all the other
mysteries and ramification of the Multenius affair to be


WHAT THE LAMPS SHONE ON 143
sorted, or to sort themselves, at leisure. One thing was
certain—-—Andie Lauriston was in greater danger now
than at any moment since Ayscough found him leaving!
the shop, and she must save him—against his own in-
clinations if need be.
But before the train from the North was due, Zillah
was fated to have yet another experience. She had taken
up a position directly beneath a powerful lamp at the end
of the arrival platform, so that Lauriston, who would be
obliged to pass that way, could not fail to see her. Sud-
denly turning, to glance at the clock in the roof behind
her, she was aware of a man, young, tall, athletic, deeply
bronzed, as from long contact with the Southern sun,
who stood just behind a knot of loungers, his heavy over-
coat and the jacket beneath it thrown open, feeling in
his waistcoat pockets as if for his match-box—an un-
lighted cigar protruded from the corner of his rather
grim, determined lips. But it was not at lips, nor at the
cigar, nor at the searching fingers that Zillah looked,
after that first comprehensive glance—her eyes went
straight to an object which shone in the 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 of his shirt-front. And in that space, be-
neath his bird’s-eye blue tie, loosely knotted in a bow,
Zillah saw a stud, which her experienced eyes knew to be
of platinum, and on it was engraved the same curious
device which she had seen once before that day—on the
solitaire exhibited by Melky.
The girl was instantly certain that here was the man
who had visited Mrs. Goldmark’s eating-house. Her first


144: THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
instinct was to challenge him with the fact—but as she
half moved towards him, he found his match-box, struck
a match, and began to light his cigar. And just then
came the great engine of the express, panting its way to
a halt beside them, and with it the folk on the platform
began to stir, and Zillah was elbowed aside. Her situa-
tion was perplexing—was she to watch the man and per-
haps lose Lauriston in the crowd already passing from
the train, or—
The man was still leisurely busy with his cigar, and
Zillah turned and went 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 in that moment of indecision, the man had vanished.


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ms. STUYVESANT curnaa
Lauriston, surprised beyond a little at seeing Zillah,
found his surprise turned into amazement as she seized
his arm and forced him along the platform, careless of
the groups of passengers and the porters, crowding about
the baggage vans.
“What is it?” he demanded. “Has something hap-
pened? 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’s gone—while I looked for you.
.We must find him! He must have gone this way.
Andie!—look for him! A tall, clean-shaven man in a
slouched hat and a heavy travelling coat—a foreigner of
some sort. Oh, look!”
It was the first time she had called Lauriston by his
name, and he gave her arm an involuntary pressure as
they hastened along.
“But why?” he asked. “Who is he—what do you
want with him? What ’s it all about?”
“Oh, find him!” she exclaimed. “You don’t know
how important it is! If I lose sight of him now, I’ll
very likely never see him again. And he must be found
—and stopped—for your sake!”
They had come to the end of the platform, by that
14.5


MR. STUYVESANT GUYLER 1417
“I beg your pardon,” said Lauriston, as politely as
possible, “but—this lady is very anxious to speak to
you.”
The man turned, glanced at Zillah, who had hurried
up, and lifted his slouched hat with a touch of old-fash-
ioned courtesy. There was a strong light burning just
above them: in its glare all three looked at each other.
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 her quarry to earth, and so easily, she
scarcely knew what to do with it.
“You’ll think this very strange,” she said, stammer-
ingly, “but if you don ’t mind telling me something ?—
you see, I saw you just now in the station, when you
were feeling for your match-box, and I noticed that you
wore a platinum stud—with an unusual device on it.”
The American laughed—a good-natured, genial laugh
—and threw open his coat. At the same moment he
thrust his wrists forward.
“This stud!” he said. “That’s so!—it is platinum,
and the device is curious. 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 cufl-T-studs, and who was obviously so
astonished as to have lost her tongue.
“You seemed mighty amazed at my studs!” said the
stranger, with another laugh. “Now, you’ll just ex-
cuse me if I ask—why 1"


148 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Zillah regained her wits with an efiort, and became
as business-like as usual-
“Don ’t, please, think I’m asking idle and purposeless
questions,’ ’ she said. “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 the papers?” continued Zillah.
‘ ‘Yes—I read that, ’ ’ the stranger said, his face growing
serious. “The affair of the old man—the pawnbroker
with the odd name. Yes!”
“I’m the old man’s granddaughter,” said Zillah,
brusquely. “Now, I’ll tell you why I was upset by see-
ing your platinum stud. A solitaire stud, made of plati-
num, and ornamented with exactly the same device as
yours, was found in our parlour after my grandfather’s
death—and another, evidently t.he fellow to it, was found
in an eating-house, close by. Now, do you understand
why I wished to speak to you?”
While Zillah spoke, the American’s face had been
growing graver and graver, and when she made an end,
he glanced at Lauriston and shook his head.
“Say!” he said. “That’s a very serious matter!
You’re sure the device was the same, and the material
platinum ?’ ’
“I’ve been reared in the jewellery trade,” replied Zil-
lah. “The things I’m talking of are of platinum—and
the device is precisely the same as that on your stud.”
“Well !—that ’s mighty queer!” remarked the Ameri-
can. “I can’t tell you why it ’s queer, all in a minute,
but I do assure you it ’s just about the queerest thing I


MR. STUYVESANT GUYLER 149‘
ever heard of in my life—and I’ve known a lot of queer-
ness. Look here l—I’m stopping at this hotel-—will you
come in with me, 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 from which several reception rooms
opened. Looking into one, a smlall smoking lounge, and
finding it empty, he ushered them aside. But on the
threshold Zillah paused. Her business instincts were by
this time fully aroused. She felt certain that whoever-
this stranger might be, he had nothing to do with the
affair in Praed Street, and yet might be able to throw
extraordinary light on it, and she wanted to take a great
step towards clearing it up. She turned to the American.
“Look here!” she said. “I’ve told you what I’m
after, and who I am. This gentleman is Mr. Andrew
Lauriston. Did you read his name in the paper’s ac-
count of that inquest?”
The American glanced at Lauriston with some curios-
ity.
“Sure!” he answered. “The man that found the old
gentleman dead.’ ’
“Just so,” said Zillah. “There are two friends of
ours maldng enquiries on Mr. 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’ve an idea where’ll they’ll be, just now—do you mind
if I telephone them to come 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 help in any way I can—I’m interested.


150 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Here!—there’s a telephone box right there—you go in
now, and call those fellows up and tell ’em to come right
.along, quick!”
He and Lauriston waited while Zillah went into the
telephone box: she felt sure that Melky and Purdie would
have returned to Praed Street by that time, and she
rang up Mrs. Goldmark at the Pawnshop to enquire.
Within a minute or two she had rejoined Lauriston and
the American—during her absence the stranger had been
speaking to a waiter, and he now led his two guests to
a private sitting-room.
“We’ll be more private in this apartment,” he ob.
served. “No fear of interruption or being overheard.
I’ve told the waiter man there ’s two gentlemen coming
along, and they ’re to be brought in here as soon as they
land. Will they be long?”
“They’ll be here within twenty minutes,’ answered
Zillah. “ It ’s very kind of 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 take too much trouble! I’m interested
in this case——and a good deal more than interested now
that you tell me about these platinum studs. I reckon
I can throw some light on that, anyway! But we’ll keep
it till your friends come. And I haven’t introduced
myself—my name’s Stuyvesant Guyler. Pm, a New
York man—but I’ve knocked around some—pretty con-
siderable, in fact. Say !—have you got any idea that this
mystery of yours is at all connected with South Africa?
And—incidentally—with diamonds ? ’ ’
7


MR. STUYVESANT GUYLER.‘ 151‘
Zillah started and glanced at Lauriston.
“What makes you think of South Africa—and of
diamonds?” she asked.
“Oh, well—but that comes into my tale,” answered
Guyler. “You’ll see in due course. But—had it?”
“I hadn’t thought of diamonds, but I certainly had
of South Africa,” admitted Zillah.
‘ ‘Seems to be working in both directions, ’ ’ said Guyler,
meditatively. “But you ’11 see that when I tell you what
I know. ”
Purdie and Melky Rubinstein entered the room within
the twenty minutes which Zillah had predicted—full of
wonder to find her and Lauriston in company with a
‘total stranger. But Zillah explained matters in a few
words, and forbade any questioning until Mr. Stuyvesant
Guyler had told his story.
“And before I get on to that,” said Guyler, who had
been quietly scrutinizing his two new visitors while Zil-
lah explained the situation, “I’d just like to see that
platinum solitaire that Mr. Rubinstein picked up—ii
he’s got it about him?”
Melky thrust a hand into a pocket.
“It ain’t never been off me, mister, since I found it!”
he said, producing a little packet wrapped in tissue
paper. “There you are 1”
Guyler took the stud which Melky handed to him
and laid it on the table around which they were all
sitting. After glancing at it for a moment, he withdrew
the studs from his own wrist-bands and laid them by its
side.
“Yes, that’s sure one of the lot!” he observed mus-


152 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
ingly. “I guess there’s no possible doubt at all on that
point. Well !—this is indeed mighty queer! Now, I’ll
tell you straight out. These studs—all of ’em—are parts
of six sets of similar things, all made of that very expen-
sive metal, platinum, in precisely the same fashion, and
ornamented with the same specially invented device, and
given to six men who had been of assistance to him in a
big deal, as a little mark of his appreciation, by a man
that some few years ago made a fortune in South Africa.
That ’s so!”
Zillah turned on the American with a sharp look of
enquiry.
“Who was he?” she demanded. “Tell us his name!”
“His name,” replied Guyler, “was Spencer Levendale
-dealer in diamonds.”


CHAPTER NINETEEN
PUB-DIE STANDS FIRM
The effect produced by this announcement was evi-
dently exactly that which the American expected, and
he smiled, a little grimly, as he looked from one face to
another. As for his hearers, they first looked at each
other and then at him, and Guyler laughed and went on.
“That makes you jump!” he said. “Well, now, at
the end of that inquest business in the papers the other
day I noticed Spencer Levendale’s name mentioned in
connection with some old book that was left, or found.
in Mr. Daniel Multenius’s back-parlour. Of course, I
concluded that he was the same Spencer Levendale I’d
known out there in South Africa, five years ago. And to‘
tell you the truth, I’ve been watching your papers, morn-
ing and evening, since, to see if there was any more news.
of him. But so far I haven’t seen any.”
Purdie and Melky exchanged glances, and in response
to an obvious hint from Melky, Purdie spoke.
“We can give you some news, then,” he said. “It’ll
be common property tomorrow morning. Levendale has
mysteriously disappeared from his house, and from his
usual haunts !—and nobody lmows where he is. And it ’s
considered that this disappearance has something to do
with the Praed Street affair.”
“Sure!” assented Guyler. “That’s just about a dead
certainty. And in the Praed Street afiair, these platinum-
153


154 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
stud things are going to play a good part, and when you
and your police have got to the bottom of it, you’ll sure
find that something else has a big part, too!”
“What?” asked Purdie.
“Why, diamonds!” answered the American, with a
quiet smile. “Just diamonds! Diamonds’ll be at the
bottom of the bag—sure !”
There was a moment of surprised silence, and then
Melky turned eagerly to the American.
“Mister!” he said. “Let’s be getting at something!
What do you know, now, about this here Levendale?”
“Not much,” replied Guyler. “But I’m open to tell
what I do know. I’ve been a bit of a rolling stone, do
you see—knocked about the world, pretty considerable,
doing one thing and another, and I’ve falsified the old
saying, for I’ve contrived to gather a good bit of moss
in my rollings. Well, now, I was located in Cape Town
for a while, some five years ago, and I met Spencer Lev-
endale there. He was then a dealer in diamonds-can’t
say in what way exactly—for I never exactly knew—
but it was well known that he’d made a big pile, buying
and selling these goods, and he was a very rich man.
Now I and five other men—all of different nationalities
—were very useful to Levendale in a big deal that he was
anxious to carry through—never mind what it was-—
and he felt pretty grateful to us, I reckon. And as
we were all warmish men so far as money was concerned,
it.wasn’t the sort of thing that he could hand out cheques
for, so he hit on the notion of having sets of studs made
of platinum—-which is, as you’re aware, the most val-
uable metal known, and on every stud he had a device


PURDIE STANDS FIRM 155
of his own invention carefully engraved. Here’s my
set !—and what Mr. Rubinstein ’s got there is part of an-
other. Now, then, who ’s the man who’s been dropping
his cufI"-links about?”
Purdie, who had listened with deep attention to the
American’s statement, immediately put a question.
“That’s but answered by asking you something,” he
said. “You no doubt know the names of the men to
whom those sets of studs were given?”
But to Purdie’s disappointment, the American shook
his head.
“Well, now, I just don’t!” he replied. “The fact is
—as you would understand if you knew the circum-
stances—this was a queer sort of a secret deal, in which
the assistance of various men of difierent nationality was
wanted, and none of us knew any of the rest. However,
I did come across the Englishman who was in it-—after-
wards. Recognized him, as a matter of fact, by his be-
ing in possession of those studs. ”
“And who was he?” asked Purdie.
“A man named Purvis—Stephen Purvis,” answered
Guyler. “Sort of man like myself—knocked around,
taking up this and that, as long as there was money in it.
I came across him in Johannesburg, maybe a year after
that deal I was telling of. He didn’t know who the
other fellows were, neither.”
“You’ve never seen him since?” suggested Purdie.
“You don ’t know where he is?”
“Not a ghost of a notion!” said Guyler. “Didn’t
talk with him more than once, and then only for an hour
or so.” .


156 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Mister!” exclaimed Melky, eagerly. “Could you
describe this here Purvis, now? Just a bit of a de-
scription, like?”
“Sure!” answered the American. “That is—as I re-
member him. Biggish, raw-boned, hard-bitten sort of
a man—about my age—clean-shaven—looked more of a
Colonial than an Englishman—he’d been out in South
Africa, doing one thing and another, since he was a boy.”
“S’elp me if that doesn’t sound like the man who was
in Mrs. Goldmark’s restaurant!” said Melky. “Just
what she describes, anyhow!”
“Why, certainly—I reckon that is the man,” remarked
Guyler. “That’s what I’ve been figuring on, all through.
I tell you all this mystery is around some diamond af-
fair in which this lady’s grandfather, and Mr. Spencer
Levendale, and this man Purvis have been mixed up-
sure! And the thing—in my humble opinion—is to find
both of them! Now, then, what ’s been done, and what ‘s
being done, in that way?”
Melky nodded at Purdie, as much as to invite him to
speak.
“The authorities at New Scotland Yard have the Lev-
endale affair in hand,” said Purdie. “We’ve been in
and out there, with Mr. Multenius’s solicitor, all the
afternoon and evening. But, of course, we couldn’t tell
anything about this other man because we didn’t know
anything, till now. You’ll have no objection to going
there tomorrow?”
“Not at all!” replied Guyler, cheerfully. “I’m lo-
cated at this hotel for a week or two. I struck it when
I came here from the North, a few days back, and it uits


PURDIE STANDS FIRM 157
me very well, and I guess I’ll just stop here while I’m
in London this journey. No, I’ve no objection to take
a hand. But— it seems to me—there’s still a lot of dif-
ficulty about this young gentleman here—Mr. Lauriston.
I read all the papers carefully, and sized up his predic-
ament. Those rings, now?”
Zillah suddenly remembered all that Ayscough had told
her that evening. She had forgotten the real motive of
her visit to King’s Cross in her excitement in listening
to the American ’s story. She now turned to Purdie and
the other two.
“I’d forgotten!” she exclaimed. “The danger’s still
there. Ayscough’s been at the shop tonight. The po-
lice have had an expert examining those rings, and the
rings in the tray. He says there are marks—private,
jewellers’ marks in the two rings which correspond with
marks in our rings. In fact, there’s no doubt of it.
And now, the police are certain that the two rings did
belong to our tray—and—and they ’re bent on arresting
—Andie !”
Lauriston flushed hotly with sheer indignation.
“That’s all nonsense—what the police say!” he ex-
claimed. “I’ve found out who gave those two rings to
my mother! I can prove it! I don ’t care a hang- for
the police and their marks—those rings are mine!”
Purdie laid a quiet hand on Lauriston’s arm.
“None of us know yet what you’ve done or found out
at Pecbles about the rings,” he said- “Tell us! Just
give us the brief facts.”
“I’m going to,” answered Lauriston, still indignant.
“I thought the whole thing over as I went down in the


160 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
no running away, no hiding! Andie Lauriston’s not
going to show the least fear of the police, or of any of
their theories. He’s just going to follow my orders-
and I’m going to take him to my hotel for the night-
leave him to me! I’m going to see this thing right
through to the finish—however it ends. Now, let’s sep-
arate. Mr. Guyler!”
“Sir?” answered the American. “At your service.”
“ Then meet me at my hotel tomorrow morning at ten,”
said Purdie. “There’s a new chapter to open.”


CHAPTER TWENTY}
THE PARSLETT AFFAIR
At a quarter past ten o’clock on the morning following
Ayscough’s revelation to Zillah, the detective was closeted
with a man from the Criminal Investigation Department
at New Scotland Yard in a private room at the local po-
lice station, and with them was the superior ofiicial who
had been fetched to the pawnshop in Praed Street im-
mediately after the discovery of Daniel Multenius’s body
by Andie Lauriston. And this ofiicial was stating his
view of the case to the two detectives—conscious that
neither agreed with him.
“You can’t get over the similarity of the markings
of those rings!” he said confidently. “To my mind the
whole thing’s as plain as a pikestaff—the young fellow
was hard up—he confessed he hadn’t a penny on him !—-
he went in there, found the shop empty, saw those rings,
grabbed a couple, was interrupted by the old man—
and finished him off by scragging him! That’s my opin-
ion! And I advise getting a warrant for him and getting
on with the work—all the rest of this business belongs to
something else.”
Ayscough silently glanced at the man from New Scot-
land Yard—who shook his head in a decided negative.
“That’s not my opinion!” he said with decision.
“And it ’s not the opinion of the people at headquarters.
161


162 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
We were at this affair nearly all yesterday afternoon
with that little Jew fellow, Rubinstein, and the young
Scotch gentleman, Mr. Purdie, and our conclusion is that
there’s something of a big sort behind old Multenius’s
death. There’s a regular web of mystery! The old
man ’s death—that book, which Levendale did not leave in
the ’bus, in spite of all he says, and of his advertisements!
—Levendale’s unexplained disappearance—the strange
death of this man Parslett—the mystery of those plati-
num studs dropped in the pawnbroker’s parlour and in
Mrs. Goldmark’s eating house—no!—the whole aEair’s
a highly complicated one. That ’s my view of it.”
“And mine,” said Ayscough. He looked at the un-
believing ofiicial, and turned away from him to glance
out of the window into the street. “May I never!” he
suddenly exclaimed. “There’s young Lauriston coming
here, and Purdie with him—and a fellow who looks like
an American. I should say Lauriston’s got proof about
his title to those rings—anyway, he seems to have no fear
about showing himself here-—case of walking straight into
the lions’ den, eh?”
“Bring ’em all in ordered the superior ofiicial, a
little surlily. “Let ’s hear what it’s all about!”
Purdie presently appeared in Ayscough’s rear, pre-
ceding his two companions. He and the detective from
New Scotland Yard exchanged nods; they had seen a
good deal of each other the previous day. He nodded
also to the superior ofiicial—but the superior ofiicial
looked at Lauriston.
“Got that proof about those rings?” he enquired.
“Of course, if you havc—”
!7’


THE PARSLETT AFFAIR 163
“Before Mr. Lauriston says anything about that,” in-
terrupted Purdie, “I want you to hear a story which this
gentleman, Mr. Stuyvesant Guyler, of New York, can
tell you. It’s important—it bears right on this afiair.
If you just listen to what he can tell—”
The two detective listened to Guyler’s story about the
platinum studs with eager, if silent interest: in the end
they glanced at each other and then at the local ofiicial,
who seemed to be going through a process of being con-
vinced against his will.”
“Just what I said a few minutes ago,” muttered the
New Scotland Yard man. “A highly complicated af-
fair! Not going to be got at in five minutes.”
“Nor in ten!” said Ayscough laconically. He glanced
at Guyler. “You could identify this man Purvis if you
saw him?” he asked.
“Why, certainly !” answered the American. “I guess
if he’s the man who was seen in that eating-house the
ather day he ’s not altered any-—or not much.‘ ’
The man at the desk turned to Purdie, glancing at
Lauriston.
“About those rings?” he asked. “What ’s Mr.
Lauriston got to say?”
“Let me tell,” said Purdie, as Lauriston was about to
speak. “Mr. Lauriston,” he went on, “has been to
Peebles, where his father and mother lived. He has seen
an old friend of theirs, Mrs. Taggart, who remembers
the rings perfectly. Moreover, she knows that they were
given to the late Mrs. Lauriston by a Mr. Edward Kil-
lick, a London solicitor, who, of course, will be able to
identify them. As to the marks, I think you’ll find a


164- THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
trade explanation of that—those rings and the rings in
Multenius’s tray probably came from the same maker.
Now, I find, on looking through the directory, that this
Mr. Edward Killick has retired from practice, but I’ve
also found out where he now lives, and I propose to
bring him here. In the meantime—I want to know what
you’re going to do about Mr. Lauriston? Here he is!"
The superior ofiicial glanced at the New Scotland Yard
man.
“I suppose your people have taken this job entirely
in hand, now? ” he asked.
“Entirely!” answered the detective.
“Got any instructions about Mr. Lauriston?” asked
the ofiicial. “You haven ’t? Mr. Lauriston’s free to go
where he likes, then, as far as we ’re concerned, here,” he
added, turning to Purdie. “ But—he’d far better stay at
hand till all this is cleared up.”
“That ’s our intention,” said Purdie. “Whenever
you want Mr. Lauriston, come to me at my hotel—he’s
my guest there, and I’ll produce him. Now we’re going
to find Mr. Killick.”
He and Lauriston and Guyler walked out together;
on the steps of the police-station Ayscough called him
back.
“I say!” he said, confidentially. “Leave that Mr.
Killick business alone for an hour or two. I can tell
you of something much more interesting than that, and
possibly of more importance. Go round to the Cor-
oner’s Court—Mr. Lauriston knows where it is.”
“What ’s on?” asked Lauriston.
“Inquest on that man Parslett,” replied Ayscough


THE PARSLETT AFFAIR. 165
with a meaning nod. “You’ll hear some queer evidence
if I’m not mistaken. I’m going there myself, presently. ”
He turned in again, and the three young men looked at
each other.
“Say!” remarked Guyler, “I reckon that’s good ad-
vice. Let ’s go to this court.”
Lauriston led them to the scene of his own recent ex-
amination by Mr. Parminter. But on this occasion the
court was crowded; it was with great difficulty that they
contrived to squeeze themselves into a corner of it. In
another corner, but far away from their own, Lauriston
saw Melky Rubinstein; Melky, wedged in, and finding it
impossible to move, made a grimace at Lauriston and
jerked his thumb in the direction of the door, as a signal
that he would meet him there when the proceedings were
over.
The inquest had already begun when Purdie and his
companions forced their way into the court. In the
witness-box was the dead man ’s widow—a pathetic figure
in heavy mourning, who was telling the Coroner that on
the night of her husband’s death he went out late in the
evening—just to take a walk round, as he expressed it.
No-—she had no idea whatever of where he was going,
nor if he had any particular object in going out at all.
He had not said one word to her about going out to get
money from any one. After he went out she never saw
him again until she was fetched to St. Mary’s Hospital,
where she found him in the hands of the doctors. He
lied, without having regained consciousness, just after
she reached the hospital.
Nothing very startling so far, thought Purdie, at the


166 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
end of the widow’s evidence, and he wondered why
Ayscough had sent them round. But more interest came
with the next witness—a smart, bustling, middle-aged
man, evidently a well-to-do business man, who entered the
box pretty much as if he had been sitting down in his
own office, to ring his bell and ask for the day ’s letters.
A whisper running round the court informed the on-
lookers that this was the gentleman who picked Parslett
up in the street. Purdie and his two companions pricked
their ears.
Martin James Gardiner—turf commission agent—resi-
dent in Portsdown Road, Maida Vale. Had lived there
several years—knew the district well—did not know the
dead man by sight at all—had never seen him, that he
knew of, until the evening in question.
“Tell us exactly what happened, Mr. Gardiner—in
your own way,” said the Coroner.
Mr. Gardiner leaned over the front of the witness-box,
and took the court and the public into his confidence—
genially.
“I was writing letters until pretty late that night,"
he said. “A little after eleven o’cl0ek I went out to
post them at the nearest pillar-box. As I went down
the steps of my house, the deceased passed by. He was
walking down Portsdown Road in the direction of Clif-
ton Road. As he passed me, he was chuckling—laughing
in a low tone. I thought he was—well, a bit intoxicated
when I heard that, but as I was following him pretty
closely, I soon saw that he walked straight enough. He
kept perhaps six or eight yards in front of me until we
had come to within twenty yards or so of the corner of


THE PARSLETT AFFAIR 167
Clifton Road- Then, all of a sudden—so suddenly that
it ’s difiicult for me to describe it !—he seemed to—well,
there’s no other word for it than—collapse. He seemed
to give, you understand—shrank up, like—like a con-
certina being suddenly shut up! His knees gave—his
whole body seemed to shrink—and he fell in a heap on the
pavement!”
“Did he cry out—scream, as if in sudden pain—any-
thing of that sort?” asked the Coroner.
“There was a sort of gurgling sound—I’m not sure
that he didn’t say a word or two, as he collapsed,”
answered the witness. “But it was so sudden that I
couldn’t catch anything definite. He certainly never
made the slightest sound, except a queer sort of moaning,
very low, from the time he fell. Of course, I thought
the man had fallen in a fit. I rushed to him; he was
lying, sort of crumpled up, where he had fallen. There
was a street-lamp close by—I saw that his face had turned
a queer colour, and his eyes were already closed—tightly.
I noticed, too, that his teeth were clenched, and his
fingers twisted into the palms of his hands.”
“Was he writhing at all—making any movement?”
enquired the Coroner.
“Not a movement! He was as still as the stones he
was lying on!” said the witness. “I’m dead certain he
never moved after he fell. There was nobody about, just
then, and I was just going to ring the bell of the nearest
house when a policeman came round the corner. I
shouted to him—he came up. We examined the man for
a minute; then I ran to fetch Dr. Mirandolet, whose
surgery is close by there. I found him in; he came at


168 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
once, and immediately ordered the man ’s removal to the
hospital. The policeman got help, and the man was
taken ofi. Dr. Mirandolet went with him. I returned
home.”
No questions of any importance were asked of Mr.
Gardiner, and the Coroner, after a short interchange of
whispers with his ofiicer, glanced at a group of profes-
sional-looking men behind the witness-box.
“Call Dr. Mirandolet !” he directed.
Purdie at that moment caught Ayscough’s eye. And
the detective winked at him significantly as a strange
and curious figure came out from the crowd and stepped
into the witness-box-


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WHAT MANNER or DEATH?
One of the three companions who stood curiously
gazing at the new witness as he came into full view of
the court had seen him before. Lauriston, who, during
his residence in Paddington, had wandered a good deal
about Maida Vale and St. John’s Wood, instantly rec-
ognized Dr. Mirandolet as a man whom he had often
met or passed in those excursions and about whom he
had just as often wondered. He was a. notable and
somewhat queer figure—a tall, spare man, of striking
presence and distinctive personality—the sort of man
who would inevitably attract attention wherever he was,
and at whom people would turn to look in the most
crowded street. His aquiline features, almost cadaver-
ous complexion, and flashing, deep-set eyes, were framed
in a mass of raven-black hair which fell in masses over
a loosely fitting, unstarched collar, kept in its place by
a voluminous black silk cravat; his thin figure, all the
sparer in appearance because of his broad shoulders 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 a
foreigner, and for a foreigner who knew next to nothing
of England and the English, and John Purdie, whose in-
169


WHAT MANNER OF DEATH? 171
takes me to tell it—that here was something 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 my understanding! I am a quick
observer—I saw within a few seconds that here was a
man who had literally been struck down in the very
flush of life as if—well, to put it plainly, as if some
extraordinary power had laid a blasting 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 was dying then—and I knew very well that nothing
known to medical science could save him. By that time
he had become perfectly quiet; his body had relaxed into
a normal position; his face, curiously coloured when I
first saw it, had become placid and pale; he breathed
regularly, though very faintly—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 the Coroner.
“Yes—within twenty-five minutes of my first seeing
him,” said the witness. “I went with the ambulance.
The man died very soon after admission, just as I knew


l72 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
he would. No medical power on earth could have saved
him!!!
The Coroner glanced at the little knot of professional
men in the rear of the witness-box and seemed to be
debating within himself as to whether he wanted to ask
Dr. Mirandolet any more questions. Eventually he
turned again to him.
“What your evidence amounts to, Dr. Mirandolet,
is this,” he said. “You were called to the man and
you saw at once that you yourself could do nothing for
him, so you got him away to the hospital as quickly as
you possibly could. Just so !—now, why did you think
you could do nothing for him?”
“I will tell you—in plain words,” answered Dr.
Mirandolet. “Because I did not recognize or under-
stand one single symptom that I saw! Because, frankly,
I knew very well that I did not know what was the mat-
ter! And so—I hurried him to people who ought to
know more than I do and are reputedly cleverer than I
am. In short—I recognized that I was in the presence of
something—something!—ntterly beyond my skill and
comprehension ! ’ ’
“Let me ask you one or two further questions,” said
the Coroner. “Have you formed 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 have been 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
be intensely surprised if that opinion is not corrob-
orated. But—I shall be ten thousand times more sur-


WHAT MANNER or DEATH? 1’19
prised if there is any expert in Europe who can say‘
what that poison was!”
“You think it was a secret poison?” suggested the
Coroner.
“Secret!” exclaimed Dr. Mirandolet. “Aye—secret
is the word- Secret—yesl 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 I bent over this man as he lay
there on the pavement I detected a certain curious aro-
matic odour about his clothes. It was strong at first;
it gradually wore off. But I directed the attention of
the policeman and Mr. Gardiner to it; it was still hang-
ing about him, very faintly, when we got him to the hos-
pital: I drew attention to it there.”
“It evidently struck you—that curious odour?” said
the Coroner.
“Yes,” answered Dr. Mirandolet. “It did. It re-
minded me of the East—I have lived in the East—India,
Burmah, China. It seemed to me that this man had
got hold of some Eastern scent, and possibly spilt some
on his clothes. The matter is worth noting. Because
—I have heard—I cannot say I have known—of men
being poisoned in inhalation.”
The Coroner made no remark—it was very evident
from his manner that he considered Dr. Mirandolet’s
evidence somewhat mystifying. And Dr. Mirandolet
stepped down—and in response to the ofiicial invitation
Dr. John Sperling-Lawson walked into the vacated wit-
ness-box.


174: THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“One of the greatest authorities on poisons living,”
whispered Lauriston to Purdie, while Dr. Sperling-
Lawson was taking the oath and answering the formal
questions. “He ’s principal pathologist at that hospital
they ’re talking about, and he constantly figures in cases
of this sort. He’s employed by the Home Ofiice too—
it was he who gave such important evidence in that
Barnsbury murder case not so long since—don’t you re-
member it?”
Purdie did remember, and he looked at the famous
expert with great interest. There was, however, nothing
at all remarkable about Dr. Sperling-Lawson’s appear-
ance—he was a quiet, self-possessed, plain-faced gentle-
man who might have been a barrister or a banker for
all that any one could tell to the contrary. He gave his
evidence in a matter-of-fact tone—strongly in contrast
to Dr. Mirandolet’s somewhat excited answers—but
Purdie noticed that the people in court listened eagerly
for every word.
He happened to be at the hospital, said Dr. Sperling-
Lawson, when the man Parslett 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 life
when he was brought to the hospital, and he was quite
prepared to say that the impossibility had existed from
the moment in which Gardiner had seen Parslett col-
lapse. In other words, when Parslett did collapse, death
was on him.
“And—the cause of death?” asked the Coroner.
“Heart failure,” replied the witness.
“Resulting from—what1” continued the Coroner.


WHAT MANNER OF DEATH? 1’75
Dr. Sperling-Lawson hesitated a moment—amidst a
deep silence.
“I cannot answer that question,” he said at last.
“I can only offer an opinion. I believe-—in fact, I am
sure !—the man was poisoned. I am convinced he was
poisoned. But I am forced to admit that I do not
know what poison was used, and that after a most care-
ful search I have not yet been able to come across any
trace or sign of any poison known to me. All the 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 deceased was a thoroughly healthy, well-
nourished man. There was not a trace of disease in any
of the organs—he was evidently a temperate man, and
likely to live to over the seventy years’ period. And,
"as I have said, there was not a trace of poison. That is,
not a trace of any poison known to me.”
“I want to ask you a particularly important ques-
tion,” said the Coroner. “Are there poisons, the nature
of which you are unacquainted with?”
“Yes!” answered the specialist frankly. “There are.
But—I should not expect 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—Pro-
fessor Gagnard, of Paris. As a matter of fact, I have
already sent certain portions of certain organs to him——
by a special messenger. If he cannot trace this poison,


178 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Do you think that this Parslett afiair has anything
to do with the Multenius affair?” asked Purdie.
“Yes—undoubtedly!” answered the detective.
“There’s no doubt whatever in my own mind that the
man who poisoned Parslett is the man who caused the
old 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
heard of what had happened in Multenius’s back-parlour,
he kept his knowledge to himself, and went and black-
mailed the man. The man gave him that fifty pounds in
gold to keep his tongue quiet—no doubt arranging to
give him more, later on—and at the same time he cleverly
poisoned him. That’s my theory, 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 quite certain—if my theory’s correct.
He ’s a clever man—and an expert in the use of poisons.”
Purdie walked on a minute or two in silence, think-
mg.
“It ’s no use beating about the bush,” he said at last.
“Do you suspect Mr. Levendale—after all you’ve col-
lected in information—and after what I told you about
what his butler saw—that bottle and phial?”
“I think that Levendale’s in it,” replied the detec-
tive, cautiously. “I’m sure he ’s in it--in some fashion.
Our people are making no end of enquiries 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. KILLICK GOES BACK 179
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 some light on tha ,” 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 the side-entrance. Old Daniel Multenius,
unconscious of all the fuss and bother which his death
had caused, was to be quietly interred that afternoon,
and Zillah and Melky were already in their mourning
garments. But Zillah had lost none of her business
habits and instincts, and while the faithful Mrs. Gold-
mark attended to the funeral guests in the upstairs
regions, she herself was waiting in the back-parlour for
these other visitors. 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 grandfather was wearing at the
time of his death. As a matter of fact he ’d been wear-
ing the same clothes for months. I’ve been through all
his pockets. There was nothing of importa.nce—except
these letters. I found those in a pocket in the inside of
that waistcoat—there! Read them.”
The men bent over the unfolded letters, and Ayscough
read them aloud-


180 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
"MACPHEBSON’S Horns, Carr: Town,
“September 17th, 1912.
“DEAR Sm,—I have sent the little article about which
I have already written 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
date of my arrival. Faithfully yours,
“srsrnsn Puavrs.”
“That,” remarked Ayscough, glancing at the rest,
“clearly refers to whatever it was that Mr. Multenius
took from his bank on the morning of his 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.
“Dmn Sm,—Just a line to say I leave here by s.s.
Golconda in a day or two—this precedes me by today ’s
mail. I hope to be in England November 15th—due
then, anyway—and shall call on you immediately on
arrival. Better arrange to have Mr. S. L. to meet
you and me at once. Faithfully,
“STEPHEN Pusvis.”
“November 15th?” remarked Ayscough. “Mr. Mul-
tenius died on November 19th. So—if Purvis did reach
here on the 15th he’d probably been about this quarter
before the 19th. We know he was at Mrs. Goldmark’s
restaurant on the 18th, anyway!
rose—we’ll take these letters with us.”
All right, Miss Wild-
Lauriston stopped behind when the rest of the men


MR. KILLICK GOES BACK 181
-went out—to exchange a few words alone with Zillah.
When he went into the street, all had gone except
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 that done—clear that up. Mr. Lauris-
ton,” he went on, “you do what your friend says—
-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. Kil-
lick can prove,” he said. “Best thing to do, too, Andie,
for us. Now that these detectives are fairly on the hunt,
and are in possession of a whole multitude of queer de-
tails and facts, we ’ll just do our bit of business—which
is to clear you entirely. There ’s more reasons than one
Why we should do that, my man !”
“What’re you talking about, J ohn?” demanded Laur-
iston. “You’ve some idea in that head of yours!”
“The idea that you and that girl are in love with each
other!” said Purdie wth a sly look.
“I’ll not deny that!” asserted Lauriston, with an in-
genuous blush. “We are!”
“Well, you can’t ask any girl to marry you, man,
while there’s the least bit of suspicion hanging over
you that you’d a hand in her grandfather’s death!” re-
marked Purdie sapiently. “So we ’ll just eat a bit of
lunch together, and then get a taxi-cab and drive out to
find this old gentleman that gave your mother the rings.
Come on to the hote .”
“You ’re spending a fine lot of money over me, John!”
exclaimed Lauriston.


182 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Put it down that I’m a selfish chap that ’s got inter-
ested, and is following his own pleasure!” said Purdie.
“Man alive !—I was never mixed up in a detective case
before—it beats hunting for animals, this hunting for
men !”
By a diligent search in directories and reference books
early that morning, Purdie and Lauriston had managed
to trace Mr. Edward Killick, who, having been at one
time a well-known solicitor in the City, had followed the
practice of successful men and retired to enjoy the fruit
of his labours in a nice little retreat in the country.
Mr. Killick had selected the delightful old-world vllage
of Stanmore as the scene of his retirement, and there,
in a picturesque old house, set in the midst of fine trees
and carefully trimmed lawns, Purdie and Lauriston
found him—a hale and hearty old gentleman, still on the
right side of seventy, who rose from his easy chair in
a well-stocked library to look in astonishment from
the two cards which his servant had carried to him at
the persons and faces of their presenters.
“God bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “Are you two
young fellows the sons of old friends of mine at Peebles?”
“We are, sir,” answered Purdie. “This is Andrew
Lauriston, and I am John Purdie. And we ’re very glad
to find that you remember something about our people,
Mr. Killick.”
Mr. Killick again blessed himself, and after warmly
shaking hands with his visitors, bade them sit down.
He adjusted his spectacles, and looked both young men
carefully over.
“I remember your people very well indeed!” he said.


MR. KILLICK GOES BACK 183
“I used to do a bit of fishing in the Tweed and in Ed-
dleston Water with your father, Mr. Purdi%and I
stopped some time with your father and mother, at their
house, Mr. Lauriston. In fact- your mother was remark-
ably kind to me-—she nursed me through an illness with
which I was seized when I was in Peebles.”
Lauriston and Purdie exchanged glances—by common
consent Purdie became spokesman for the two.
“Mr. Killick,” he said, “it’s precisely about a matter
arising out of that illness 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 a lit-
erary gift, and he hopes to make a name, and perhaps a
fortune. I’ve succeeded 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, be-
fore I go further—have you read in the newspapers
about what ’s called the Praed Street Mystery?”
The old gentleman shook his head.
“My dear young sir!” he answered, waving his hand
towards his books. “I’m not a great newspaper reader
—except for a bit of politics. I never read about mys-
teries--I’ve wrapped myself up in antiquarian pursuits
since I retired. No!—-I haven’t read about the Praed
Street Mystery—nor even heard of it! I hope neither
of you are mixed up in it?”
“Considerably!” answered Purdie. “In more ways
than one. And you can be of great help. Mr. Killick
—when you left Peebles after your illness, you sent Mrs.
Lauriston a present of two valuable rings. Do you
remember?”


184: THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Perfectly—of course!” replied the old gentleman-
“To be sure!"
“Can you remember, too, from whom you bought
those rings?” enquired Purdie eagerly.
“Yes !—as if it were yesterday!” said Mr. Killick.
“I bought them from a City jeweller whom I knew very
well at that time—a man named Daniel Moltenol"


186 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
narrator to pause while he considered a point: in the end
he drew out his watch—after which he glanced out of his
window.
“Do I gather that the taxi-cab which I see outside
there is being kept by you two young men?” he asked.
“It is,” answered Purdie. “It’s important that we
should lose no time in getting back to town, Mr. Killick.”
Just so!” agreed Mr. Killick, moving towards his li-
brary door. “But I’m going with you—as soon as I’ve
got myself into an overcoat. Now!” he added, a few
minutes later, when all three went out to the cab. “Tell
the man to drive us straight to that police-station you’ve
been visiting of late—and till we get there, just let me
think quietly—I can probably say more about this case
than I’m yet aware of. But—if it will give you any
relief, 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 they
were closeted with the chief men there—amongst whom
were Ayscough and the detective from New Scotland
Yard.
“You know me—or of me—some of you?” observed
the old solicitor, as he laid a card on the desk by which
he had been given a chair. “I was very well known in
the City police-courts, you know, until I retired three
years ago. Now, these young gentlemen have just told
me all the facts of this very strange case, and I think I


MR. KILLICK’S OPINION 187
can throw some light on it—on part of it, anyway.
First of all, let me see those two rings about which there
has been so much enquiry.”
Ayscough produced the rings from a locked drawer;
the rest of those present looked on curiously as they were
examined and handled by Mr. Killick. It was imme-
diately evident that he had no doubt about his recog-
nition and identification of them—after a moment ’s
inspection of each he pushed them back towards the de-
tective.
“Certainly!” he said with a confidence that carried
conviction. “Those are the rings which I gave to Mrs.
Lauriston, this young man’s mother. I knew them at
once. If it ’s necessary, I can show you the receipt which
I got with 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 ofiicial present glanced at the man from
New Scotland Yard, and receiving a nod from him,
smiled at the old solicitor.
“I think we can rely on your evidence, Mr. Killick,”
he said. “We had to make 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’s precisely what I’ve come all the
way from my own comfortable fireside at Stanmore to
do! There ’s no coincidence at all. I ’ve heard the whole
story of this Praed Street affair now from these two lads.
And I’ve no more doubt than I have that I see you, that
the old pawnbroker whom you knew hereabouts as Daniel


188 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Multenius was the same man Daniel Molteno—from
whom I bought those rings, years ago! Not the lightest
doubt!”
None of those present made any remark on this sur-
prising announcement, and Mr. Killick went on.
“I was, as some of you may know, in practice in the
City—in Moorgate Street, as a matter of fact,” he said.
“Daniel Molteno was a jeweller in Houndsditch. I oc-
casionally acted for him—professionally. And occasion-
ally when I wanted anything in the way of jewellery,
I went to his shop. He was then a man of about fifty,
a tall, characteristically Hebraic sort of man, already
patriarchal in appearance, though he hadn’t a grey hair
in his big black beard. He was an interesting man, pro-
foundly learned in the history of precious stones. I re-
member buying those rings from him very well indeed-
I remember, too, what I gave him for them—seventy-five
pounds 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 rings in the tray. But
that ’s not what I came here to tell you—that’s merely
preliminary. ’ ’
“Deeply interesting, anyway, sir,” observed Ays-
cough. “And, maybe, very valuable.”
“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’s account, you’re
all greatly excited at present over the undoubted connec-
tion 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 of this district, and a Member of


MR. KILLICK’S OPINION 189
Parliament. It would appear from all you’ve discovered,
amongst you, up to now, that Spencer Levendale has been
privately mixed up with old Daniel Multenius in some
business which seems to be connected with South Africa.
Now, attend to what I say :—About the time that I knew
Daniel Molteno in Houndsditch, Daniel Molteno had a
partner—a junior partner, whose name, however, didn’t
appear over the shop. He was a much younger man than
Daniel—in fact, he was quite a young man—I should say
he was then about twenty-three or four_-not more. He
was of 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—was Sam Levin.”
The other men in the room glanced at each other—and
one of them softly murmured what all was thinking.
“ The same initials!”
“Just so!” agreed Mr. Killick. “That ’s what struck
me-—Sam Levin: Spencer Levendale. Very well !—I con-
tinue. One day I went to Daniel Molteno’s shop to get
something repaired, and it struck me that I hadn’t seen
Sam Levin the last two or three times I had been in.
‘Where’s your partner?’ I asked of Daniel Molteno. ‘I
haven’t seen him lately.’ ‘Partner no longer, Mr. Kil-
lick,’ said he. ‘We’ve dissolved. He’s gone to South
Africa.’ ‘What to do there?’ I asked. ‘Oh,’ answered
Daniel Molteno, ‘he’s touched with this fever to get at
close quarters with the diamond fields! He’s gone out
there 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.’ No more was said—and, as far
as I can remember, I never saw Daniel Molteno again. It


MR. KILLICK’S OPINION 191
three o’clock, making some further enquiries. I got two
pieces of news. To start with—that bottle out of which
Levendale filled a small phial, which he put in his waist-
coat pocket when he went out for the last time——you re-
member, Mr. Purdie, that his butler told you of that in-
cident—well, that bottle contains chloroform—I took a
chemist there to examine it and some other things.
That ’s item one. The other’s a bit of information vol-
unteered by Levendale’s chauffeur. The morning after
Mr. Multenius’s death, and after you, Mr. Lauriston, Mr.
Rubinstein, and myself called on Levendale, Levendale
went off to the City in his car. He ordered the chauffeur
to go through Hyde Park, by the Victoria Gate, and to
stop by the Powder Magazinc. At the Powder Magazine
he got out of the car and Walked down towards the bridge
on the Serpentine. 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 re-
mained 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. And that seems
to have been the last time any one we’ve come across saw
him. That night, after his visit to his house, and his tak-
ing the phial of chloroform away with him, Levendale
utterly disappeared, too—and yet sent a wire to his but-
ler, from close by, next morning, saying he would be away
for a few days! Why didn’t he call with that message
himself?”


192 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Mr. Killick, who had listened to Ayscough with close
attention, laughed, and turned to the ofiicials with a
sharp look.
“Shall I give you people a bit of my opinion after
hearing all this?” he said. “Very well, then-—Leven-
dale never did send that wire! It was sent in Leven-
dale’s name—to keep things quiet. I believe that Lev-
endale’s been tmpped—and Purvis with him!”


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE ORANGE-YEIiI1)W DIAMOND
His various listeners had heard all that the old solicitor
had said, with evident interest and attention—now, one
of them voiced what all the rest was thinking.
“What makes you think that, Mr. Killick?” asked
the man from New Scotland Yard. “Why should Lev-
endale 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 distinguished part, as a solicitor
with an extensive police-court practice-—twisted round
on his questioner with a sly, knowing glance.
“You’re a man of experience!” he answered “Now
come !—hasn’t it struck you that something went before
the death of old Daniel Multenius—whether that death
arose from premeditated murder, or from sudden assault?
Eh ‘.1—hasn’t it?’ ’
“What, then?” asked the detective dubiously. “For
I can’t say that it has—definitely. What do you con-
jecture did go before that?”
Mr. Killick thumped his stout stick on the floor.
“Robbery!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “Robbery!
The old man was robbed of something! Probably—and
there ’s nothing in these cases like considering possibili-
ties—he caught the thief in the act of robbing him, and
193


196 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
The caller took the chair which Ayscough drew for-
ward and sat down, throwing open his heavy overcoat,
and revealing a whipcord riding-suit of light fawn be-
neath it.
“You’ll see I came here in a hurry, gentlemen,” he
said, with a smile. “I’d no thoughts of coming to Lon-
don when I left my farm this morning, or I’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 daily papers except when I drive into
Exeter twice a week. Now when I got in there this
morning, I saw one or two London papers—last night ’s
they were—and read about this affair. And I read
enough to know that I’d best get here as quick as pos-
sible!—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 the papers? I’ve
seen today ’s, on the way up.”
“Nothing!” answered the chief ofiicial. “Nothing at
all! We’ve purposely kept the newspapers informed,
and what there is in the morning’s papers is the very
latest. So—can you tell us anything?”
“I can tell you all I know myself,” replied John Pur-
vis, with a solemn shake of his head. “And I should
say it’s a good deal to do with Stephen ’s disappearance—
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


THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND 197
little murmur of comprehension, and nodded his head
two or three times.
“Murdered, poor fellow, in my opinion,” continued
John Purvis. “And I’ll tell you why I think so. About
November 8th or 9th—I can’t be sure to a day—I got a
telegram from Stephen, sent olf from Las Palmas, in the
Canary Islands, saying he’d be at Plymouth on the 15th,
and asking me to meet him there. So I went to Plymouth
on the morning of the 15th. His boat, the Golconda,
came in at night, and we went to an hotel together and
stopped the night there. We hadn’t met for some years,
and of course he ’d a great deal to tell—but he ’d one thing
in particular—he’d struck such a piece of luck as he’d
never had in his life before !—and he hadn’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 gen-
eral attention.
“He’d come into possession, through a fortunate bit
of trading, up country in South Africa, of one of the
finest diamonds ever discovered!” he answered. “I
know nothing about such things, but he said it was an
orange-yellow diamond that would weigh at least a hun-
dred and twenty carats when cut, and was worth, as far
as he could reckon, some eighty to ninety thousand
pounds. Anyway, that was what he’d calculated he was
going to get for it here in London—and what he wanted
to see me about, in addition to telling me of his luck, was
that he wanted to buy a real nice bit of property in


198 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Devonshire, and settle down in the old country. But—-
I’m afraid his luck ’s turned to a poor end! Gentlemen !—-
I’m certain my brother’s been murdered for that dia-
mond!”
The police ofiicials, as with one consent, glanced
at Mr. Killick, and by their looks seemed to invite his
assistance. The old gentleman nodded and turned to the
caller.
“Now, Mr. Purvis,” he said, “just let me ask you a
few questions. Did your brother tell you that this dia-
mond 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 such things with two men here in Lon-
don—Multenius and Levendale—he knew both of them.
He’d sent the diamond on in advance to Multenius, by
ordinary registered post, rather than 1‘1111 the risk of
carrying it himself.”
“I gather from that last remark that your brother
had let some other person or persons know that he pos-
sessed 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
he wasn’t such a fool as to carry a thing like that on
him.”


THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND 199
“Did he say if he knew for a fact that the diamond
was delivered to Multenius?” asked Mr. Killick.
“Yes, he did. He found a telegram from Multenius
at Las Palmas, acknowledging the receipt. He men-
tioned to me that Multenius would put the diamond 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 a good deal about this matter—did
your brother tell you what was to be done with the dia-
mond? Had he a purchaser in view?”
“Yes, he said something about that,” replied John
Purvis. “He said that Multenius and Levendale would
make—or were making—what he called a syndicate to
buy it from him. They ’d have it cut—over in Amster-
dam, I think it was. He reckoned he’d get quite eighty
thousand from the syndicate.”
“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 as far as Exeter. He came on to Pad-
dington—I went home to my farm. And I’ve never
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 the police.
“Now you know what we wanted to know!” he said.
“That diamond is at the bottom of everything! Daniel


200 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Multenius was throttled for that diamond—Parslett’s
death arose out of that diamond—everything’s arisen
from that diamond! And, now that you police folks
know all this—you know what to do. You want the
man, or men, who were in Daniel Multenius’s shop about
five 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 be-
come of my brother!” he said.
“Then come with me,” said Mr. Killick. He said a
word or two to the police, and then, beckoning Lauriston
and Purdie to follow with Purvis, led the way out into
the street. There he drew Purdie towards him. “Get
a taxi-cab,” he whispered, “and we’ll all go to see that
American man you’ve told me of—Guyler. And when
we ’ve seen him, you can take me to see Daniel Multenius’s
granddaughter. ’ ’


202 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“This is the will,” said Mr. Penniket, selecting and
unfolding one of the documents. “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 precise in-
structions given me by my late client, your grandfather.
I may as well tell you in a few words what it amounts to.
Everything that he left is to be sold—this business as a
going concern; all his shares; all his house property.
The whole estate is to be realized by the executors—your
two selves. And when that ’s done, you ’re to divide the
lot-—equally. One half is yours, Miss Wildrose; Mr. Ru-
binstein, the other half is yours. And,” concluded Mr.
Penniket, rubbing his hands, “you’ll find you’re very
fortunate—not to say wealthy—young people, and I con-
gratulate you on your good fortune! Now, perhaps,
you ’d like to read the will?”
Mr. Penniket laid the will on the table before the two
cousins, and they bent forward and read its legal phrase-
ology. Zillah was the first to look up and to speak.
“I never knew my grandfather had any house prop-
erty,” she said. “Did you, Melky?”
“S’elp me, Zillah, if I ever knew what he had in that
way!” answered Melky. “He had his secrets and he
could be close. No—I never knew of his having anything
but his business. But then, I might have known that
he ’d invest his profits in some way or other.”
The solicitor unfolded the other document.
“Here’s a schedule, prepared by Mr. Multenius him-
self, and handed by him to me not many weeks ago, of his
property outside this business,” he remarked. “I’ll
go through the items. Shares in the Great Western Rail-


THE DEAD MAN’S PROPERTY 203
way. Shares in the London, Brighton, and South Coast
Railway. Government Stock. Certain American Rail-
way Stock. It’s all particularized—and all gilt-edged
security. Now then, about his house property. There’s
a block of flats at Hampstead. There are six houses at
Highgate. There are three villas in the Finchley Road.
The rents of all these have been collected by Messrs.
Holder and Keeper, estate agents, and evidently paid by
them direct to your esteemed relative’s account at his
bank. And then—to wind up-—there is a small villa in
Maida Vale, which he let furnished—you never 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, belong-
ings in this are mine—I have let it as a furnished resi-
dence at £12 a month, all clear, for some years past.
Let at present, on same terms, rent paid quarterly, in
advance, to two Chinese gentlemen, Mr. Chang Li and
Mr. Chen Li—g0od tenants.”
Zillah uttered anoth‘er sharp exclamation and sprang
to her feet. She walked across to an old-fashioned stand-
up desk which stood in a corner of the parlour, drew a
bunch of keys from her pocket, and raised the lid.
“That explains something!” she said. “I looked into
this desk the other day—grandfather used to throw let-
ters and papers in there sometimes, during the day, and
then put them away at night. Here ’s a cheque here that


206 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Ayscough. “They did think he might be likely—hav~
ing experience of these South African matters—to know
something how Stephen Purvis may have been followed.
You see—you’re bound to have some theory! It looks as
if Stephen Purvis had been tracked—for the sake
of that diamond. The thieves probably tracked it to this
shop—most likely attacked Mr. Multenius for it. They ’d
most likely 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, mur-
dered. It ’s getting a nicer tangle than ever l ’ ’
“What’s going to be done?” enquired the solicitor.
“Why!” said Ayscough. “At present, there’s little
more to be done than what is being done! There’s no
end of publicity in the newspapers about both Levendale
and Purvis. Every newspaper reporter in London’s
on the stretch for a thread of news of ’em! And we’re
getting posters and bills out, all over, advertising for
them—those bills’ll be outside every police-station in
London—and over a good part of England—by tomorrow
noon. 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 it was theft first, and the
rest afterwards.’ ’
Mr. Penniket rose and gathered his papers together.
“I suppose,” he remarked, “that neither of you ever
!
w


THE DEAD MAN’S PROPERTY 207
heard of this diamond, nor of Mr. Multenius having
charge of it? No—just so. An atmosphere of secrecy
all over the transaction. Well—all I can say, Ayscough,
is this—you find Levendale. He ’s the man who knows.”
Whm the solicitor had gone, Ayscough turned to Zillah.
“You never saw anything of any small box, packet,
or anything of that sort, lying about after your grand-
father ’s death?” he asked. “I’m thinking of what that
diamond had been enclosed in, when he brought it from
the bank. My notion is that he was examining that
diamond when he was attacked, and in that case the box
he’d taken it from would be lying about, 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 seized that diamond would have the
sense to snatch up anything connected with it! I believe
in what Mr. Penniket said just now—you find Levendale.
If there ’s a man living who knows who killed my grand-
father, Levendale’s that man. You get him.”
Mrs. Goldmark came in just then, to resume her task
of keeping Zillah company, and the detective left.
Melky snatched up his overcoat and followed him out,
and in the side-passage laid a hand on his arm.
“Look here, Mr. Ayscough!” he whispered confiden-
tially. “I want you! There ’s something turned up
in there, just now, that I ain’t said a word about to either
Penniket or my cousin—but I will to you. Do you know
what, Mr. Ayscough—listen here;”—and he went on to


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE RAT
Ayscough and Melky kept silence, until they had ex-
changed the busy streets for the quieter by-roads which
lie behind the Paddington Canal—then, as they turned up
Portsdown Road, the detective tapped his companion’s
arm?”
“What do you know about these two Chinese chaps
that have this furnished house 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 knew the
old man had furnished house to let in Maida Vale! He
was close, the old 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 Col-
lege. That ’s in Gower Street, ain’t it? The old man—
he put in a note about there here Molteno Lodge that
these Chinks were good tenants. I know what he’d mean
by that !—paid their rent regular, in advance.”
“Oh, I know they’ve always plenty of money, these
chaps!” observed Ayscough. “I’ve been wondering if
I’d ever seen these two. But Lor’ bless you !-—there’s
209


210 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
such a lot o’ foreigners in this quarter, especially Jap-
anese and Siamese—law students and medical students
and such like—that you ’d never notice a couple of East-
erns particularly—and I’ve no doubt they wear English
clothes. Now, what do you want to see this doctor for?”
he asked as they halted by Dr. Mirandolet ’s door. “Any-
thing to do with the matter in hand?”
“You’ll see in a minute,” replied Melky as he rang-
the bell. “Just a notion 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 the evidences and implements
of his profession. He was wearing a white linen operat-
ing jacket, and his dark face and black hair looked all
the darker and blacker because of it. Melky gazed at
him with some awe as he dropped into the chair which
Mirandolet indicated and found the doctor’s piercing
eyes on him.
“Just a question or two, mister!” he said, apologeti-
cally. “Me and Mr. Ayscough there is doing a bit of
looking into this mystery about Mr. Multenius, and know-
ing as you was a big man in your way, it struck me you ’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 knee in a confidential fashion. “I
hear you say at that inquest as how you ’d lived in the
East?”


THE RAT 2111
“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 professional information, you
know, if it ain’t etiquette !—but would it be too much to
ask you if them folks is pretty good hands at poisoning?’ ’
Mirandolet. laughed, showing a set of very white teeth,
and glared at Ayscough with a suggestion of invitation
to join in his amusement. He clapped 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 I ”
“Bit cunning and artful about it, mister?” suggested
Melky.
“Beyond your conception, my friend,” replied Miran-
dolet. “Unless I very much mistake your physiognomy,
you yourself come of an ancient race which is 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, sol-
emnly. “.And—which of ’em, now, do you consider the
cleverest of the lot—them as you say you ’ve lived
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,”
answered Mirandolet, “you can ’t beat a Chinaman.
Does that satisfy you?’ ’


212 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Melky rose and glanced at the detective before turn-
ing 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! Much obliged
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 cost price—”
Mirandolet laughed and clapping Melky’s shoulder
again, looked at Ayscough.
“What’s our young friend after?” he asked, good-
humouredly. “What ’s his game?”
“Hanged if I know, doctor!” said Ayscough, shaking
his head. “H'e’s got some 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, taking the de-
tective’s arm when they had left the house. “We’re
going to take a look at them Chinks. I’ve got it into my
head that they ’ve something to do with this afiair—and
I’m going to see ’em, and to ask ’em a question or two.
And—you’re coming with me!”
“I say, you know!” remarked Ayscough. “They’re
respectable gentlemen—even if 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 good excuse, Mr. Ayscough? Just
to ask a civil question- Begging their pardons for in-


THE RAT 2131
trusion, but since the lamented death of Mr. Daniel
Multenius, me and Miss Zillah Wildrose has come into
his bit of property, and does the two gentlemen desire
to continue their tenancy, and is there anything we can
do to make ’em comfortablefisee? Oh, I’ll talk to ’em
all right!”
“What ’re you getting at, all the same?” asked the de-
tective. “Give it a title !”
Melky squeezed his companion’s arm.
“I want to see ’em,” he whispered. “That’s one
thing. And I want to find out how that last cheque
of theirs got into our back-parlour! Was it sent by 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 at something else,” said Melky,
cheerfully. “Do you know that my good old relative-
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 bit o’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 the
money in the family, what '2”
Melky laid his finger on the side of his nose.
“ Then you think wrong!” he said. “There ’ll be mar-
riages before long—for both of us—but it ’ll not be as you.
suggest! There ’s Molteno Lodge, across the road there.


214' THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
—s’elp me, I’ve often seen that bit of a retreat from the
top 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 detached houses stand in walled-in gardens,
isolated and detached from each other—Melky pointed
to one of the smaller ones-—a stucco villa, whose white
walls shone in the November moonlight. Its garden,
surrounded by high walls, was somewhat larger than
those of the neighbouring houses, and was filled with
elms rising to a considerable height and with tall bushes
growing beneath them.
“Nice, truly rural sort of spot,” said Melky, as they
crossed the road and approached the gate in the wall.
“And—once inside—uncommon private, no doubt!
What do you say, Mr. Ayscough?”
The detective was examining the gate. It was a curi-
ous sort of gate, set between two stout pillars, and fash-
ioned of wrought ironwork, the meshes of which were
closely intertwined. Ayscough peered through the upper
part and saw a trim lawn, a bit of statuary, a garden seat,
and all the rest of the appurtenances common to a Lon-
don garden whose owners wish to remind themselves of
rusticity—also, he saw no signs of life in the house at the
end of the garden.
“There ’s no light in this house,” he remarked, trying
the gate. “Looks to me 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


THE RAT 215
house and the next,” he said. “Come round—sure to
be a tradesman’s entrance—a side-door~—up there.”
“Plenty of spikes and glass-bottle stufi on those walls,
anyhow!” remarked Ayscough, as they went round a
narrow alley to the rear of the villa. “Your grand-
father evidently didn’t intend anybody to get into these
premises very easily, Mr. Rubinstein. Six-foot walls
and what you might call 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 door on which, plainly seen in the
moonlight, were the words Tmdesman’s Entrance. He
turned the handle—and uttered an exclamation.
“Open!” he said. “Come on, Mr. Ayscough-—we’re
a-going in! If there is anybody at home, all right-
if there ain’t, well, still all right. I’m going 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 win-
dows were dark.
“No lights, back or front,” remarked Ayscough.
“Can’t be anybody in. And I say—if either of those
Chinese gents was to let himself in with his key at 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 bit o’ property? And didn’t we find
that door open? Come round to the front.”
He set ofi along a gravelled path which ran round the


"216 THE ORANGE—YELLOW DIAMOND
side of the house, and ascended the steps to the porticoed
front door. And there he rang the bell—and he and
his companion heard its loud ringing inside the house.
But no answer came-—and the whole place seemed darker
and stiller than before.
“Of course there ’s nobody in!” muttered Ayscough.
“Come on—let’s get out of it.”
Melky made no answer. He walked down the steps,
and across the lawn beneath the iron-work gate in the
street wall. A thick shrubbery of holly and laurel
bushes stood on his right—and as he passed it something
darted out—something alive and alert and sinuous—and
‘went scudding away across the 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 it had emerged. And suddenly he
stepped towards the shrubbery and drew aside the thick
cluster of laurel branches. Just as suddenly he started
back on the detective, and his face went white in the
moonbeams.
“Mr. Ayscough!” he gasped. “S’elp me!—there’s a
dead man here! Look for yourself!”


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE EMPTY HOUSE
Ayscough had manifested a certain restiveness and
dislike to the proceedings ever since his companion had
induced him to enter the back door of Molteno Lodge—
these doings appeared to him informal and irregular.
But at Melky’s sudden exclamation his professional in-‘
sincts were aroused, and he started forward, staring‘
through the opening in the bushes made by Melky’s fin-
gers.
“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 fell full on a yellow face—and on a dark
gash that showed itself in the yellow neck below. Who-
ever this man was, he had been killed by a savage knife-
thrust that had gone straight and unerringly through
the jugular vein. Ayscough pointed to a dark wide
stain which showed on the earth at the foot of the
bushes-
“Stabbed!” he muttered. “Stabbed to death! And
dragged in here—look at that—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 the outer wall. And then
he drew a box of matches from his pocket, and striking:
217


218 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
.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 Ays-
cough, as the match flickered and died out. “ Or, at any
rate, a Chinaman. And—he’s been dead some 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 man could lie in that garden, close to
a busy thoroughfare, along which a regular stream of
trafiic of all descriptions was constantly passing, for
several days, undetected. But a quick inspection of the
surroundings explained matters. The house itself filled
up one end of the garden; the other three sides were ob-
scured from the adjacent houses and from the street by
high walls, high trees, thick bushes. The front gate was
locked or latched—no one had entered—no one, save the
owner of the knife that had dealt that blow, had known
a murdered man lay there behind the laurels. 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 somewhere about.”
He walked down to the iron-work gate, Melky follow-
ing close at his heels, found and unfastened the patent
latch, and slipped out into the road. In two minutes
he was back again with a policeman. He motioned the
man inside and once more fastened the door.
‘ ‘As you know this beat,’ ’ he said quietly, as if continu-
ing a conversation already begun, “you’ll know the two
Chinese gentlemen who have this house?”


THE EMPTY HOUSE 219
“Seen ’em—yes,” replied the policeman. “Two
quiet little fellows—seen ’em often—generally of an eve-
Ding.”
“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 in the front windows?” enquired
the detective.
“Why, as a matter of fact, Mr. Ayscough,” said the
policeman, “ you never do see any lights here—the win-
dows are shuttered. I know that, because I used 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 I saw, you know—they
used the house for little more than sleeping in. I’ve
see'n’em go out of a morning, with books and papers
under their arms, and come home at night—similar. But
there’s no servants there. Anything wrong, Mr. Ays-
cough?”
Ayscough moved toward the bushes.
“There ’s this much wrong,” he answered. “There’s
one of ’em lying dead behind those laurels with a knife-
thrust through his throat! And I should say, from the
look of things, that he’s been lying there several days.
Look here ! ”
The policeman looked—and beyond a sharp exclama-
tion, remained stolid. He glanced at his companions,


220 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
glanced round the garden—and suddenly pointed to 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 then dragged
up the path and thrust in here. Now then !—off you go
to the station, and tell ’em what we’ve found. Get help
—he’ll have to be taken to the mortuary. And you’ll
want men to keep a watch on this house—tell the inspec-
tor all about it and say I’m here. And here—leave me
that lamp of yours.”
The policeman took ofi his bull’s eye lantern and
handed it over. Ayscough let him out of the door, and
going back to Melky, beckoned him towards the house.
“Let’s see if there’s any way of getting in here,” he
said. “My conscience, Mr. Rubinstein !—you must have
had some instinct about coming here tonight! We ’ve
hit on something—but Lord bless me if I know what it
is!”
“Mr. Ayscough!” said Melky. “I hadn’t a notion of
aught like that—it’s give 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—-
bloody murder! All on account of that orange-yellow
diamond we’ve heard of—at last. Ah !—if I’d known
there was that at the bottom of this afiair, I ’d ha’ been a
bit sharper in coming to conclusions, I would so! Dia-
mond worth eighty thousand pounds—”
Ayscough, who had been busy at the front door of the
house, suddenly interrupted his companion ’s reflections.


THE EMPTY HOUSE 221
“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 a horror in the garden, in that bright moon-
ight—what might there not be in that black, silent house?
“Well, turn that there bull’s eye on!” he said- “I
don’t half fancy this sort of exploration. We’d ought
to have had revolvers, you know.”
Ayscough turned on the light and advanced into the
hall. There was nothing there beyond what one would
expect to see in the hall of .a well-furnished house, nor
was there anything but good furniture, soft carpets, and
old pictures to look at in the first room into which he and
Melky glanced. But in the room behind there were evi-
dencos of recent occupation—a supper-table was laid:
there was food on it, a cold fowl, a tongue—one plate had
portions of both these viands laid on it, with a knife and
fork crossed above them; on another plate close by, a slice
of bread lay, broken and crumbled—all the evidences
showed that supper had been laid for two, that only one
had sat down to it: that he had been interrupted at the
very beginning of his meal—a glass half-full of a light
‘French wine stood near the pushed-aside plate.
“Looks as if one of ’em had been having a meal, had
had to leave it, and had 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 a dressing-table and left open,
lay a quantity of silver and copper, with here and there


222 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
a gold coin shining amongst it. Ayscough made a sig-
nificant motion of his head at the sight.
“Another proof of—hurry!” he said. “Somebody’s
cleared out of this place about as quick as he could!
Money left lying about—unfinished meal—door open—
all sure indications. Well, we’ve seen enough for the
present. Our people’ll make a thorough search later.
Come downstairs again.”
Neither Ayscough nor Melky were greatly inclined for
conversation or speculation, and they waited in silence
near the gate, both thinking of the still figure lying be-
hind the laurel bushes until the police came. Then fol-
lowed whispered consultations between Ayscough and the
inspector, and arrangements for the remvoal of the dead
man to the mortuary and the guardianship and thorough
search of the house—and that done, Ayscough beckoned
Melky out into the road.
“Glad to be out of that—for this time, anyway!” he
said, with an air of relief. “There’s too much atmo-
sphere of murder and mystery—what they call Oriental
mystery—for me in there, Mr. Rubinstein! Now then,
there ’s something we can do, at once. Did I understand
you to say these two were medical students at University
College?”
“So Mr. Penniket said,” replied Melky. “S’elp me!
I never heard of ’em till this afternoon!’ ’
“You’re going to hear a fine lot about ’em before
long, anyway!” remarked Ayscough.
“Well—we’ll just drive on to Gower Street—some-
body’ll know something about ’em there, I reckon.”
He walked forward until he came to the cab-rank at


THE EMPTY HOUSE 223
the foot of St. John ’s Wood Road, where he bundled
Melky into a taxi-cab, and bade the driver get away to
University College Hospital at his best pace. There was
little delay in carrying out that order, but it was not such
an easy task on arrival at their destination to find any one
who could give Ayscough the information he wanted. At
last, after they had waited some time in a reception room
a young member of the housestaff came in and looked an
enquiry.
“What is it you want to know about these two Chinese
students?” he asked a little 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 '2 ”
“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 a
surname. 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. “Several days. I was remarking on that
g today—I missed them from a class.”
“You say they ’re very much alike,” remarked the de-
tective. “I suppose you can tell one from the other?”
“Of course! But—what is this? I see you’re a de-
tective sergeant. Are they in any bother—trouble?”
“The fact of the case,” answered Ayscough, “is just
this—one of them ’s lying dead at our mortuary, and I


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
run £500 BANK NOTE
Ayscough drew the sheet over the dead man’s face
and signed to his companion to follow him outside, to a
room where Melky Rubinstein, still gravely meditating
over the events of the evening, was awaiting their re-
appearance.
“So that,” said Ayscough, jerking his thumb in the
direction of the mortuary,“that’s Chen Li! You ’re cer-
tain?”
“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
difiicult to tell which of two Chinese, of about the same
age, was the older. But that ’s Chen. He and the other,
Chang Li, are very much alike, but Chen was a somewhat
smaller and shorter man.”
“What do you know of them?” inquired Ayscough.
“Can you say what ’s known at your hospital?”
“Very little,” replied the house-surgeon. “They
entered, as students there—we have several foreigners
—about last Christmas-perhaps at the New Year. All
that I know of them is that they were like most East-
erns—very quiet, unassuming, inoffensive fellows, very
225


THE £500 BANK NOTE 227
“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—par-
ticularly—except a young Japanwe who was in some of
their classes,” replied the house-surgeon. “I have 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 Gower Street—I don ’t know the
precise number of the house. Yes, that’s the way to
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 fac ,” said the house-
surgeon.
He waited a moment in evident expectation of
other questions; as the detective asked none—“ I gather,”
he remarked, “that Chang Li has disappeared?”
“The house these two occupied is empty,” replied
Ayscough.
“I am going to suggest something,” said the house-
surgeon. “I know—from personal observation—that
there is a tea-shop in Tottenham Court Road—a sort of
quiet, privately-owned place-—Pilmansay’s—which these
two used to frequent. I don’t know if that’s of any
use to you?”
“Any detail is of use, Sir,” answered Ayscough, mak-
ing another note. “Now, I’ll tell this taxi-man to drive
you back to the hospital. I shall call there tomorrow


228 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
morning, and I shall want to see this young Japanese
gentleman, too. I daresay you see that this is a case of
murder-—and there ’s more behind it!’ ’
“You suspect Chang Li ? ” suggested the house-surgeon
as they went out to the cab.
“Couldn’t say that—yet,” replied Ayscough, grimly.
“For anything I know, Chang Li may have been mur-
dered, too. But I’ve a pretty good notion what Chen 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 if they ’ve found anything of im-
portance.”
The house which had been as lifeless and deserted
when Melky and the detective visited it earlier in the
evening was full enough of energy and animation when
they went back. One policeman kept guard at the front
gate; another at the door of the yard; within the house
itself, behind closed doors and drawn shutters and cur-
tains, every room was lighted and the lynx-eyed men
were turning the place upside down. One feature of
the search struck the newcomers immediately—the patch
of ground whereon Melky had found the dead man had
been carefully roped off. Ayscough made a significant
motion of his hand towards it.
“Good!” he said, “that shows they’ve found foot-
prints. That may be useful. Let ’s hear what else
they’ve found.”
The man in charge of these operations was standing
within the dining-rom when Ayscough and Melky walked


THE £500 BANK NOTE 229
in, and he at once beckoned them into the room and closed
the door.
“We ’ve made two or three discoveries,” he said,
glancing at Ayscough. “To start with, there were foot-
prints of a rather unusual sort round these bushes where
the man was lying—so I’ve had it carefully fenced in
around there—we’ll have a better look at ’em, in day-
light. Very small prints, you understand—more like a
woman’s than a man ’s.”
A~yscough’s sharp eyes turned to the hearth—there
were two or three pairs of slippers lying near the fender
and he pointed to them.
“These Chinamen have very small feet, I believe,” he
said. “The footprints are probably theirs. Well—-
what else?”
“This,” answered the man in charge, producing a
small parcel from the side-pocket of his coat, and pro-
ceeding to divest it of a temporary wrapping. “Perhaps
Mr. Rubinstein will recognize it. We found it thrown
away in a fire-grate in one of the bedrooms upstairs—
you see, it ’s half burnt.”
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 on the lid remained intactP-
but it was not difiicult to make out what the full wording
had been.
_‘ . . . mius,
. . .nd jeweller,
- .‘ ed Street.


230 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“That’s one of the late Mr. Multenius’s boxes,” af-
firmed Melky at once. “Daniel Multenius, Pawnbroker
and Jeweller, Praed Street—that’s the full wording.
Found in a fireplace, d’ye say, mister? Ah—and what
had he taken out of it before he threw the box away,
now, Mr. Ayscough—whoever it was that 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 a couple of fingers into his
waistcoat pocket and drew out what looked like a bit of
crumpled paper.
“Aye!” he answered. “This! Found it-—-just there!
Lying on the floor, at the end of this table. ”
He opened out the bit of crumpled paper as he spoke
and held it towards the other two. Ayscough stared,
almost incredulously, and Melky let out a sharp ex-
.clamation.
“S’elp us!” he said. “A five-hundred-pound bank.
note!”
“That ’s about it,” remarked the exhibitor. “Bank of
England note for five hundred of the best! And—a
good ’un, too. Lying on the fioor.”
“Take care of it,” said Ayscough laconically. “Well
—you haven ’t found any papers, documents, or anything
of that sort, that give any clue?”
“There’s a lot of stuff there,” answered the man in
charge, pointing to a pile of books and papers on the
‘I


THE £500 BANK NOTE 231
table, “but it seems to be chiefly exercises and that sort
of thing. I ’ll look through it myself, later.”
“See if you can find any letters, addresses, and so on,”
counselled Ayscough. He turned over some of the books,
all of them medical works and text-books, opening some
of them at random. And suddenly he caught sight of
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 into his mind. He bade
the man in charge keep his eyes open and leave nothing‘
unexamined, and tapping Melky’s arm, led him outside.
“Look here!” he said, drawing out his watch, as they
crossed the hall. “it’s scarcely ten o’clock, and I’ve got
the address of that young J ap. Come on—we’ll go and
ask him a question or two.”
So for the second time that evening, Melky, who was
beginning to feel as if he were on a chase which pursued
anything but a straight course, found himself in Gower
Street again, and followed Ayscough along, wondering
what was going to happen next, until the detective paused
at the door of a tall house in the middle of the long thor-
oughfare and rang the bell. A smart maid answered that
ring and looked dubiously at Ayscough as he profiered a
request to see Mr. Mori Yada. Yes—Mr. Yada was at
home, but he didn’t like to see any one, of an evening
when he was at his studies, and—in fact 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 of his professional cards. “Just give
him that, will you, and tell him my business is very im-
portant.” 


232 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
He turned to Melky when the girl, still looking unwill-
ing, had gone away upstairs, and gave him a nudge of
the elbow.
“When we get up there—as we shall,” whispered
Ayscough, “you watch this Jap chap while I talk to
him. Study his face—and see if anything surprises
him.”
“Biggest order, mister—with a J ap !” muttered Melky.
“Might as well tell me 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 detec-
tive’s heels, found himself ushered into a brilliantly-
lighted, rather over-heated room, somewhat luxuriously
furnished, wherein, in the easiest of chairs, a cigar in
his lips, a yellow-backed novel in his hand, sat a slimly-
built, elegant young gentleman whose face was melting
to a smile.


MR. MORI YADA 235
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 turned over its pages,
Ayscough, helping himself and Melky to a drink, winked
at his companion with a meaning expression.
“I have not seen either Mr. Chang Li or Mr. Chen Li
since the morning of the 18th November,” suddenly said
Yada. He threw the book back on the desk, and coming
to the hearthrug, took up a position with his back to the
fire and his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He
nodded politely as his 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 direct answer to this question-
“The fact of the case is, Mr. Yada,” he said, “one of
these two young men has been murdered! murdered, sir!”
Yada’s well-defined eyebrows elevated themselves-—but
the rest of his face was immobile. He looked fixedly at
Ayscough for a second or two—then he let out one word-
“Which?”
“According to Dr. Pittery—Chen Li,” answered Ays-
cough. “Dr. Pittery identified him. Murdered, Mr.
Yada, murdered! Knifed !—in the throa .”
The reiteration of the word murdered appeared to yield
the detective some sort of satisfaction—but it apparently
made no particular impression on the 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. “Mo1teno


MR. MORI YADA 237'
of folly to tell a stranger, and an Eastern stranger at
that, all about the fact that there was a diamond worth
eighty thousand pounds at the bottom of these gnysteries .
and murders. But he discharged his own duties, and
watched Yada intently—and failed to see one single sign
of anything beyond ordinary interest in his impassive
face.
“So there it is, sir,” concluded Ayscough. “I’ve no
doubt whatever that Chen Li called at Multenius’s shop
to pay the rent; that he saw the diamond in the old man ’s
possession and swagged him for it; that Parslett saw
Chen Li slip away from that side-door and, hearing of
Multenius’s death, suspected Chen Li of it and tried to
blackmail him; that Chen Li poisoned Parslett—and that
Chen Li himself was knifed for that diamond. Now—by
whom? Chang Li has—d~isappeared!”
“You suspect Chang Li?” asked Yada.
“I do,” exclaimed Ayscough. “A Chinaman—a
diamond worth every penny of eighty thousand pounds
—Ah!” He suddenly lifted his eyes to Yada with a
quick enquiry. “How much do you know of these two? ’ ’
he asked.
“Little—beyond the fact that they were fellow-stu-
dents of mine,” answered Yada. “I occasionally visited
them—-occasionally they visited me—that is all.”
“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 usually did with themselves when they
weren’t at the hospital?” asked the detective.


MR. MORI YADA 239
mond loose somewhere in London—and as to telling that
slant-eyed fellow 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 J ap comes out
—as I’ve an idea he will—we’re going to follow. And as
you’re younger, 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 him as 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 he should 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—tl1ere, now, what did
I tell you? He ’s coming out, now! Be handy—more
depends on it than you ’re aware 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 smart suit of grey
tweed had disappeared under a heavy fur-collared over-
coat; a black bowler hat surmounted his somewhat pallid
face. He looked neither to right nor left, but walked
swiftly up the street in the direction of the Euston Road.
And when he had gone some thirty yards, Ayscough
pushed Melky before him out of their retreat.
“You go first,” he whispered, “I’ll come after you.
Keep an eye on him as far 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


242 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
a west-bound train. “We’ve had such an evening as
I never expected! Mr. Ayscough! when on earth is this
going to come to something like a clearing-up ? ’ ’
Ayscough settled himself in a corner of a smoking-
carriage and leaned back.
“My own opinion,” he said, “is that it ’s coming to an
end. Tomorrow, the news of the Chinaman’s murder’ll
be the talk of the town. And if that doesn’t fetch Leven-
dale out of whatever cranny he’s crept into, hanged if
I know what will!”
“Ah! you think that, do you?” said Melky. “But
—why should that news fetch him out?"
“Don’t know!” replied Ayscough, almost unconcern-
edly. “But I’m almost certain 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 mor-
tuary—what? See?”
Melky murmured that Mr. Ayscough was a cute ’un,
and relapsed into thought until the train pulled up at
Praed Street. He followed the detective up the streets
and across the road to the hotel, dumbly wondering how
many times that day he had been in and about that quar-
ter on this apparently interminable chase. He was get-
ting dazed—but Ayscough who was still smoking the
cigar which Yada had given him, strode along into the
hotel entrance apparently as fresh as paint.
Purdie had a private sitting-room in connection with
his bedroom, and there they found him and Lauriston,
both smoking pipes and each evidently full of thought
and speculation. They jumped to their feet as the de-
tective entered-


THE MORTUARY 2&3-
“I say!” exclaimed Lauriston. “Is this true !—this
about the Chinese chap? Is it what they think at your
police-station ?—connected with the other affairs?
We’ve been waiting, hoping you ’d come in!”
‘ ‘Ah ! ” said Ayscough, dropping into a chair. “We ’ve
been pretty busy, me and Mr. Rubinstein there-we’ve
had what you might call a pretty full evening ’s work of
it. Yes—it’s true enough, gentlemen-—another step in
the ladder—another brick in the building! We ’re get-
ting 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. I suppose you’ve heard nothing
of the other Chinaman?”
“Not a circumstance-—as yet,” said Ayscough. “But
I’m in hopes—I’ve done a bit, I think, towards it—with
Mr. Rubinstein’s help, though he doesn’t quite under-
stand my methods. But you, gentlemen—I came in to
hear if you’d anything to tell about Guyler. What did
he think about what John Purvis had to tell us this
afternoon?”
“He wasn’t surprised,” answered Purdie. “Don ’t
you remember that he assured us from the very start
that diamonds would be found to be at the bottom of this.
But he surprised us!”
“Aye? How?” asked Ayscough. “Some news?”
“Guyler swears that he saw Stephen Purvis this very
morning,” replied Purdie. “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


THE MORTUARY 24-5
“No—and what might Mr. Guyler’s theory be, now
Mr. Lauriston?” enquired the detective. “There ’s such
a lot of ingenious theories about that one may as well
try to take in another. Mr. Rubinstein there is about
weary of theories.”
But Melky was pricking his ears at the mere mention
of anything relating to the diamond.
“That’s his chafi, Mr. Lauriston,” he said. “Never
mind him! What does Guyler 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—a clever lot
of diamond thieves who knew about Stephen Purvis’s
find of the orange-yellow thing and put in a lot of big
Work about getting it when it reached England. And he
believes that that gang has kidnapped Levendale, and
that Stephen Purvis is working in secret to get at them.
That ’s Guyler’s notion, anyhow.”
“Well!” said Ayscough. “And there may be"some-
thing in it! For this search—how do we know that at
any rate one of these Chinamen mayn’t have had some
connection with this gang? You never know—and to
get a dead straight line at a thing’s almost impossible.
However, we’ve taken steps to have the news about the
diamond and about this Chen Li appear in tomorrow
moming’s papers, and if that doesn’t rouse the whole
town—”
A tap at the door prefaced the entrance of a waiter,
who looked apologetically at its inmates.
“Beg pardon, gentlemen,” he said, “Mr. Ayscough!


24:6 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
Gentleman outside would like a word with you, if you
please, sir.”
Ayscough picked up his hat and walked out—there,
waiting a little way down the corridor, an impressive
figure in his big black cloak and wide-brimmed hat, stood
Dr. Mirandolet. He strode forward as the detective ad-
vanced.
“I heard you were here, so I came up,” he said, lead-
ing Ayscough away. “Look here, my friend—one of
your people has told me of this affair at Molteno Lodge
—the discovery of the China.man’s dead body.”
“That young fellow, Rubinstein, who called on you
early this evening, and got me to accompany him discov-
ered it,” said Ayscough, who was wondering what 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 dia-
mond which came out this afternoon, from the owner’s
brother. Now—I’ll tell you why a.fter—I want to see
that dead Chinaman! I’ve a particular reason. Will
you come with me to the mortuary?”
Ayscough’s curiosity was aroused by Mirandolet’s
manner, and without going back to Purdie’s room, he
set out with him. Mirandolet remained strangely silent
. until they came to the street in which the mortuary
stood.
“A strange and mysterious matter this, my friend!”
he said. “That little Rubinstein man might have had
some curious premonition when he came to me tonight
with his odd question about Chinese!”
“Just what I said myself, doctor!” agreed Ayscough.


THE MORTUARY 2447
“It did look as if he ’d a sort of foreboding, eh? But—-
Hullo!”
He stopped short as a taxi-cab driven at a consider-
able speed, came rushing down the street and passing
them swiftly turned into the wider road beyond. And
the sudden exclamation was forced from his lips because
it seemed to him that as the cab sped by he saw a yellow-
hued face within it—for the fraction of a second. Quick
as that glimpse was, Ayscough was still quicker as he
glanced at the number on the back of the car—and mem-
orized it.
“Odd!” he muttered, “odd! Now, I could have sworn
—” He broke off, and hurried after Mirandolet who
had stridden ahead. “Here we are, doctor,” he said,
as they came to the door of the mortuary. “There ’s a
man on night duty here, so there’s no difiiculty about
getting in. ’ ’
There was a drawing of bolts, a turning of keys; the
door opened, and a man looked out and seeing Ayscough
and Dr. Mirandolet, admitted them into an ante-room and
turned up the gas.
“We want to see that Chinaman, George,” said the
detective. “Shan’t keep you long.”
“There’s a young foreign doctor just been to see him,
Mr. Ayscough,” said the man. “You ’d pass his car
down the street—he hasn’t been gone three minutes.
Yopng J apanese—brought your card with him.”
Ayscough turned on the man as if he had given him
the most startling news in the world.
“What?” he exclaimed,‘ “J apanese? Brought my
card?” .


24-8 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“Showed me it as soon as he got here,” answered the
attendant, surprised at Ayscough’s amazement. “Said
you’d given it to him, so that he could call 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 out a word, Mirandolet spoke, seizing
the mortuary-keeper by the arm in his eagerness.
“You let that man—a J apanese—see the dead China-
man—alone?” he demanded.
“Why, of course!” the attendant answered surlily.
“He’d Mr. Ayscough’s card, and—”
Mirandolet dropped the man ’s arm and threw up his
own long white hands.
“Merciful Powers!” he vociferated. “He has stolen
the diamond!”


THE MIRANDOLET THEORY 251‘
wound round and round the back of the head. And
into it he slipped his own long, thin fingers—to draw
them out again with an exclamation which indicated sat-
isfaction with his own convictions. .
“Just as I said,” he remarked. “Gone! Mr. Detec-
tive—that’s where Chen Li hid the diamond—and that
Japanese man has got it. And now—you’d better be
after him—half-an-hour’s start to him is as good as a
wcek’s would be to you.”
He drew the sheet over the dead face and strode out,
and Ayscough followed, angry, mystified, and by no
means convinced.
“Look here!” he said, as they reached the ante-room;
“that ’s all very well, Dr. Mirandolet, but it’s only sup-
position 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 afiair tonight, I came to you to put you up to
the Chinese trick of secreting things of value in their
pigtails»-it did not occur to me that the diamond might
be there in this case, but I thought you would probably
find something. But when we reached this mortuary,
and I heard that a Japanese had been here, presenting
your card when he had no business to present it, I guessed
immediately what had happened—and now that you tell
me that you told him all about this affair, well—I am cer-
tain of my assertion. Mr. Detective—go after the dia-
mond!”
He turned as if to leave the place, and Ayscough fol-
lowed-


252 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND


“He mayn’t been after the diamond at all!” he said,
still resentful and incredulous. “Is it very likely he ’d
think it to be in that dead chap ’s pigtail 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 to mine, no doubt. So—I wish you
good-night l’ ’
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 J ap in there?” he asked, nodding
at the death chamber.
“Not a minute, Mr. Ayscough!” replied the man.
“In and out again, as you might say.”
“Did he say anything when he came out?” enquired
the detective.
“He did—two words,” answered the keeper. “He
said, ‘That ’s he!’ and walked straight out, and into his
car.”
“And when he came he told you I’d sent him?” de-
manded Ayscough.
“Just that—and showed me your card,” assented the
man. “Of course, I’d no reason to doubt his word.”
“Look here, George!” said Ayscough, “you keep this
to yourself ! Don’t say anything to any of our folks
if they come in. I don’t half believe what that doctor
said just now—but I’ll make an enquiry or two. Mum ’s
the word, meanwhile. You understand, George?”
George answered that he understood very well, and
Ayscough presently left him. Outside, in the light of


254 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
make for escape. He would be ofl? to the Conti-
nent, hot foot. Now, Ayscough had a good acquaint-
ance 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 other ports such as Harwich or
Southampton, by a longer route. Obviously, the first
thing to do was to have the stations at Victoria, and
Charing Cross, and Holborn Viaduct, and London Bridge
carefully watched for Yada. And for two weary hours
in the middle of the night he was continuously at work
on the telephone, giving instructions and descriptions,
and making arrangements to spread a net out of which
the supposed fugitive could not escape.
And when all that was at last satisfactorily arranged,
Ayscough was conscious that it might be for nothing.
He might be on a wrong track altogether—due to the sus-
picions and assertions of that queer man, Mirandolet.
There might be some mystery—in Ayscough’s opinion
‘there always 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. This
extraordinary conduct might be explained. But mean-
while Ayscough could not afford to neglect a chance, and
tired as he was, he set out to find the driver of the taxi-
cab whose number he had carefully set down in his note-
book.
There was little difiiculty in this stage of the proceed-
ings; it was merely a question of time, of visiting a cen-
tral ofice and finding the man’s name and address. By


THE MIRANDOLET THEORY 255
six o’clock in the morning Ayscough was at a small house
in a shabby street in Kentish Town, interviewing a
woman who had just risen to light her fire, and was
surlily averse to calling up a husband, who, she said,
had not been in bed until nearly four. She was not any
more pleased when Ayscough informed her of his pro-
fessional status—but the man was fetched down.
“You drove a foreigner—a J apanese—to the mortu-
ary in Paddington last night?” said Ayscough, plung-
ing straight into business, after telling the man who he
was. “I saw him—just a glimpse of him—in your cab,
and I took your number. Now, where did you first pick
him up '4" ’
“Outside the Underground, at King’s Cross,” replied
the driver promptly.
This was precisely what Ayscough had expected; so
far, so good; his own prescience was proving sure.
“Anything wrong, mister?” asked the driver.
“There may be,” said Ayscough. “Well—you picked
him up there, and drove him straight to the mortu-
ary?!!
‘ ‘No—I didn’t,” said the man. “We made a call first.
Euston. He went in there, and, I should say, went to
the left luggage office, ’cause he came back again with a
small suit-case—just a little’un. Then we went on to
that 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 you go then?”
“Oxford Circus,” answered the driver, “set him down


256 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
—his orders—right opposite 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 the driver, “carrying his suit-
case—which it was, as I say, on ’y a little ’un—and walk-
ing very fast. Last I see of him was that, guv’nor.”
Ayscough went away and got back to more pretentious
regions. He was dead tired 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 boy
came in with the first editions of the newspapers. Ays-
cough picked one up—and immediately saw staring head-
lines :—-
THE PADDLNGTON MYSTERIES.
NEW AND STARTLING Fmruans.
Drmonn woarn £80,000 BEING Looxno roa
MURDER IN Mama VALE
Ayscough laid down the paper and smiled. Levendale
~—if not dead—could scarcely fail to see that!


ONE O’CLOCK MIDNIGHT 259
there not gas lamps 7—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, de-
sirous of getting at facts. “Did he come out of a house,
or go into one, or—what?”
“I tell you,” replied Mrs. Goldmark, “everything I
tell you—all in good time. It is like this. A taxi-cab
comes up—approaching me. It stops—by the pavement.
Two men—they get out. Him first. Then another.
They pay the driver—then they walk on a little—just a
few steps. They go into a house. The other man—he
lets them into that house. With a latch-key. The door
opens—shuts. They are inside. Then I go to Zillah
and tell her what I see. So!”
The three young men exchanged glances, and Purdie
turned to the informant.
“Mrs. Goldmark,” he said, “did you know the man
who opened the door?”
“Not from another!” replied Mrs. Goldmark. “A
stranger to me!”
“Do you know Mr. Levendale—by sight?” asked
Purdie.
"Often, since all this begins, I ask myself that ques-
tion,” 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 Pur-
die. “You took a good look at him, I suppose?”
“And a good one,” answered Mrs. Goldmark- “He


260 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
was one of our people--I saw his nose and his eyes. And
I was astonished to see so poor-looking a man have a
latch-key to so grand a mansion as that !—he was dressed
in poor clothes, and looked dirty and mean.”
“A bearded dark man ? ’ ’ suggested Purdie.
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Goldmark. “A clean-shaved
man—though dark he might be. ”
Purdie looked at Melky and shook his head.
“That’s not Levendale !” he said. “Clean-shaven!
Levendale’s bearded and mustached—and I should say
a bit vain of his beard. Um! you’re dead certain, Mrs.
Goldmark, about the other man?”
“As that I tell you this,” insisted Mrs. Goldmark.
“I see him as plain as what I see him when he calls at
my establishment and leaves his jewellery on my table.
Oh, yes—I don ’t make no mistake, Mr. Purdie.”
Purdie looked again at Melky—this time with an en-
quiry in his glance.
“Don’t ask me, Mr. Purdie!” said Melky. “I don’t
know what to say. Sounds like as if these two went into
Levendale’s house. But what man would have a latch-
key to that but Levendale himself ? More mystery !—-
ain’t I full of it already? Now if Mr. Ayscough hadn’t
gone away—”
“Look here!” said Purdie, coming to a sudden decision,
“I’m going round there. I want to know what this
means—I’m going to know. You ladies had better go
home. If you others like to come as far as the corner
of Sussex Square, come. But I’m going to Levendale’s
house alone. I’ll find something out.”
He said no more until, Zillah and Mrs. Goldmark hav-


ONE O’CLOCK MIDNIGHT 261
ing gone homeward, and he and his two companions hav-
ing reached a side street leading into Sussex Square, he
suddenly paused and demanded their attention!
“I’ve particular reasons for wanting to go into that
house alone,” he said. “There’s no danger—trust me.
But—if I’m not out again in a quarter of an hour or so,
you can come there and ask for me. My own impression
is that I shall find Levendale there. And—as you’re
aware, Andie—I know Levendale.’ ’ He left them stand-
ing in the shadow of a projecting portico and going up
to Levendale’s front door, rang the bell. There was no
light in any of the windows; all appeared to be in dead
stillness in the house; somewhere, far off in the interior,
he heard the bell tinkle. And suddenly, as he stood wait-
ing and listening, he heard a voice that sounded close
by him and became aware that there was a small trap
or grille in the door, behind which he made out a face.
“Who is that?” whispered the voice.
“John Purdie—wanting to see Mr. Levendale,” he
answered promptly.
The door was just as promptly opened, and as Purdie
stepped within was as quickly closed behind him. At
the same instant the click of a switch heralded a flood of
electric light, and he started to see a man standing at
his side—a man who gave him a queer, deprecating smile,
a man who was not and yet who was Levendale.
“Gracious me !” exclaimed Purdie, “it isn’t—"
“Yes!” said Levendale, quietly. “But it is, though!
All right, Purdie—come this way.”
Purdie followed Levendale into a small room on the
right of the hall—a room in which the remains of a cold,


262 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
evidently impromptu supper lay on a table lighted by a
shaded lamp. Two men had been partaking of that sup-
per, but Levendale was alone. He gave his visitor an-
other queer smile, and pointed, first to a chair and then
to a decanter.
“Sit down—take a drink,” he said. “This is a queer
meeting! We haven’t seen each other since-—”
“Good God, man!” broke in Purdie, staring at his
host. “What ’s it all mean? Are you—disguised?”
Levendale laughed—ruefully—and glanced at the mean
garments which Mrs. Goldmark had spoken of.
“Necessity!” he said. “Had to! Ah l—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 lmow—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—the!-e
was a weariness in his gesture which showed his visitor
that he was dead beat.
“Aye, just so!” he said. “But—tell me! has John
Purvis come looking for his brother?”
“He has!” answered Purdie. “He ’s in London just
now.”
“Has he told about that diamond '!—told the police?”
. demanded Levendale.
“He has!” repeated Purdie. “That’s all known.
Stephen Purvis—where is he?”
“Upstairs—asleep—dead tired out,” said Levendale.
“We both are! Night and day—day and night—I could
fall on this floor and sleep—”


ONE O’CLOCK MIDNIGHT 263
“You’ve been after that diamond?” suggested Purdie.
“That—and something else,” said Levendale.
“Something else?” asked Purdie. “What then?”
“Eighty thousand pounds,” answered Levendale.
“Just that!”
Purdie stood staring at him. Then he suddenly put
a question.
“Do you know who murdered that old man in Praed
Street?” he demanded. “That’s what I’m after.”
“No !” said Levendale, promptly. “I don ’t even
know that he was murdered!” He, too, stared at his
visitor for a moment; then “But I know more than a lit-
tle about his being robbed,” he added significantly.
Purdie shook his head. He was puzzled and mysti-
fied beyond measure.
“This is getting too deep for me!” he said. “You’re
the biggest mystery of all, Levendale. Look here!”
he went on. “What are you going to do? This queer
disappearance of yours-—this being away—coming back
without your beard and dressed like that !—aren’t you
going to explain? The police—”
“Yes!” said Levendale. “Ten o’clock this morning
—the police-station. Be there—all of you—anybody—
anybody who likes—I’m going to tell the police all I
know. Purvis and I, we can ’t do any more-—baFfled, you
understand! But now—go away, Purdie, and let me
sleep—I’m dead done for!”
Within ten minutes of leaving them, Purdie was back
with Lauriston and Melky Rubinstein, and motioning
them away from Sussex Square.
“That’s more extraordinary than the rest!” he said,


264 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
as they all moved off. “Levendale’s there, in his own
house, right enough! And he ’s shaved off his beard and
mustache, and he’s wearing tramp ’s clothes and he and
Stephen Purvis have been looking night and day, for
that confounded diamond, and for eighty thousand
pounds! And—what’s more, Levendale does not know
who killed Daniel Multenius or that he was murdered!
But, by George, sirs!” he added, as high above their
heads the clock of St. James’s Church struck one, “he
knows something big l—and we ’ve got to wait nine hours
to hear it!”


CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
sscmrr WORK
The inner room of the police-station, at ten o’clock that
morning, was full of men. Purdie, coming there with
Lauriston at five minutes before the hour, found Melky
Rubinstein hanging about the outer door, and had only
just time to warn his companion to keep silence as to
their midnight discovery before Guyler and John Purvis
drove up in one cab and Mr. Killick in another. Inside,
Ayscough, refreshed by his breakfast and an hour’s rest,
was talking to the inspector and the man from New
Scotland Yard—all these looked enquiringly at the
group which presently crowded in on them.
“Any of you gentlemen got any fresh news?” de-
manded the inspector, as he ran his eye over the expect-
ant faces “No ?—well, I suppose you’re all wanting to
know if we have?” He glanced at Ayscough, who was
pointing out certain paragraphs in one of the morning
newspapers to the Scotland Yard man. “The fact is,”
he continued, “there have been queer developments since
last night—and I don’t exactly know where we are! My
own opinion is that we’d better wait a few hours before
saying anything more definite—to my mind, these news-
papers are getting hold of too much news—giving infor-
mation to the enemy, as it were. I think you ’d all better
leave things to us, gentlemen—for a while.” There was
265


266 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
rather more than a polite intimation in this that the pres-
ence of so many visitors was not wanted—but John Pur-
vis 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 en-
titled to that! That ’s the job I came about—myself—
as for the rest—”
“Your brother’s here!” said Purdie, who was stand-
ing by the window and keeping an eye on the street out-
side. “And Mr. Levendale with him—hadn’t you better
have them straight in?” he went on, turning to the in-
spector. “They both look as if they ’d things to tell.”
But Ayscough had already made for the door and
within a moment was ushering in the new arrivals. And
Purdie was quick to note that the Levendale who entered,
a sheaf of morning papers in his hand, was a vastly dif-
ferent Levendale to the man he had seen nine hours be-
fore, dirty, unkempt, and worn out with weariness. The
trim beard and mustache were hopelessly lost, and there
were lines on Levendale’s face which they concealed, but
Levendale himself was now smartly groomed and care-
fully dressed, and business-like, and it was with the air
of a man who means business that he strode into the room
and threw a calm nod to the ofiicials.
“Now, Inspector,” he said, going straight to the desk,
while Stephen Purvis turned to his brother. “I see
from the papers that you’ve all been much exercised
_ about Mr. Purvis and myself—it just shows how a couple
of men can disappear and give some trouble before they ’re
found. But here we are !—and why we’re here is be-
cause we ’re beaten—we took our own course in trying to


268 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
free from interruption, if you please, while I tell you my:
story.”
Ayscough answered this request by going to the door
and leaning against it, and Levendale took a chair by
the side of the desk and looked round at an expectant
audience.
‘ ‘It ’s a queer and, in some respects, an involved story, ”
he said, “but I shall contrive to make matters plain to
you before I’ve finished. I shall have to go back a good
many years—to a time when, as Mr. Killick there knows,
I was a partner with Daniel Molteno in a jewellery
business in the City. I left him, and went out to South
Africa, where I engaged in diamond trading. I did un-
usually well in my various enterprises, and some years
later I came back to London a very well-to-do man. Not
long after my return, I met my former partner again.
He had changed his name to Multenius, and was trading
in Praed Street as a jeweller and pawnbroker. Now, I
had no objection to carrying on a trade with certain busi-
ness connections of mine at the Cape—and after some
conversation with Multenius he and I arranged to buy
and sell diamonds together here in London, and I at once
paid over a sum of money to him as working capital.
The transactions were carried out in his name. It was
he, chiefly, who conducted them—he was as good and keen
a judge of diamonds as any man I ever knew—and no
one here was aware that I was concerned in them. I
never went to his shop in Praed Street but twice—if it
was absolutely necessary for him to see me, we met in the
City, at a private office which I have there. Now you


SECRET WORK 269
understand the exact relations between Daniel Multenius
and myself. We were partners—in secret.
“We come, then, to recent events. Early in this pres-
ent autumn, we heard from Mr. Stephen Purvis, with
whom I had had some transactions in South Africa, that
he had become possessed of a rare and fine orange-yellow
diamond and that he was sending it to us. It arrived
at Multenius’s—Multenius brought it to me at my city
ofiice and we examined it, after which Multenius depos-
ited it in his bank. We decided to buy it ourselves—I
finding the money. We knew, from our messages from
Stepheh Purvis, that he would be in town on the 18th
November, and we arranged everything for that date.
That date, then, becomes of special importance—what
happened at Multenius’s shop in Praed Street on the aft-
ernoon of November 18th, between half-past four and
half-past five is, of course, the thing that really is of im-
portance. Now, what did happen? I can tell you-
same as regards one detail which is, perhaps, of more im-
portance than the other details. Of that detail I can’t
tell anything—but I can offer a good suggestion about it.
“Stephen Purvis was to call at Daniel Multenius’s
shop in Praed Street between five o’clock and half-past
on the afternoon of November 18th—to complete the sale
of his diamond. About noon on that day, Daniel Mul-
tenius went to the City. He went to his bank and took
the diamond away. He then proceeded to my ofiice,
where I handed him eighty thousand pounds in bank
notes—notes of large amounts. With the diamond and
these notes in his possession, Daniel Multenius went back


SECRET WORK 271
ter, and went on. In another minute I was at the pawn-
shop. I opened the door, walked in, and went straight
to the little parlour—I had been there just twice before
when Daniel Multenius was alone, and so I knew my way.
I went, I say, straight through—and in the parlour door-
way ran into Stephen Purvis.
“Purvis was excited—trembling, big fellow though
he is, do you see? He will bear me out as to what was
said—and done. Without a word, he turned and pointed
to where Daniel Multenius was lying across the floor-
dead. ‘I haven’t been here a minute!’ said Purvis. ‘I
came in—found him, like that! There’s nobody here.
For God’s sake, where’s my diamond?’
“Now, I was quick to think. I formed an impression
within five seconds. That Chinaman had called—found
the old man lying in a fit, or possibly dead—had seen,
as was likely, the diamond on the table in the parlour,
the wad of bank-notes lying near, had grabbed the lot—
and gone away. It was a theory—and I am confident
yet that it was the correct one. And I tell you plainly
that my concern from that instant was not with Daniel
Multenius, but with the Chinaman! I thought and
acted like lightning. First, I hastily examined Mul-
tenius, felt in his pockets, found that there was nothing
there that I wanted and that he was dead. Then I re-
membered that on a previous visit of mine he had let me
out of his house by a door at the rear which communicated
with a narrow passage running into Market Street, and
without a second’s delay, I seized Purvis by the arm and
hurried him out. It was dark enough in that passage—
there was not a soul about-—we crossed Market Street,


272 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
turned to the right, and were in Oxford and Cambridge
Terrace before we paused. My instinct told me that the
right thing to do was to get away from that parlour. And
it was not until we were quite away from it that I realized
that I had left my book behind me 1”


CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
BAFFLED
Levendale paused at this point of his story, and
looked round the circle of attentive faces. He was quick
to notice that two men were watching him with particu-
larly close attention.—one was Ayscough, the other, the
old solicitor. And as he resumed his account he glanced
meaningly at Mr. Killick.
“I daresay some of you would like to question me-
and Stephen Purvis, too—on what I’ve already told
you?” he said. “You’re welcome to ask any question:
you like—any of you—when I’ve done. But—let me
finish—for then perhaps you ’ll fully understand what we
were at.
“Purvis and I walked up and down in Oxford and
Cambridge Terrace for some time——discussing the situa-
tion. The more I considered the matter, the more I was
certain that my first theory was right—the Chiaaman
had got the diamond and the banknotes. I was aware
of these two Chinamen as tenants of Multenius’s fur-
nished house—as a matter of fact, I had been present, at
the shop in Praed Street, on one of my two visits there
when they concluded their arrangements with him.
What I now thought was this—one of them had called on
the old man to do some business, or to pay the rent, and
had found him in a fit, or dead, as the result of one, had
273


276 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
grounds of that house without any one being the wiser.
It did not take long to convince us that the house was
empty. It remained empty that night—Purvis kept
guard over it, in an outhouse in the garden. No one
either entered or left it between our going to it and Pur-
vis coming away from it next morning—he stayed there,
watching until it was time to keep an appointment with
me in Hyde Park. Before I met him, I had been called
upon by Detective Ayscough, Mr. Rubinstein, and Mr.
Lauriston—they know what I said to them. I could not
at that time say anything else—I had my own concerns
to think of.
“When Purvis and I met we had another consultation,
and we determined, in view of all the revelations which
had come out and had been published in the papers, that
the suspicion cast on young Mr. Lauriston was the very
best thing that could happen for us; it would reassure
our Chinaman. And we made up our minds that the
house in Maida Vale would not be found untenanted
that night, and we arranged to meet there at eleven
o’clock. We felt so sure that our man would have read
all the news in the papers, and would feel safe, and that
we should find him. But, mark you, we had no idea 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 the corner of Iron Gate Wharf
the previous day, whether it was Chang Li or Chen Li,
he would have kept his secret to himself! The thing was
—to get into that house; to get into conversation with
both; to decide which was the guilty man, and then—to


BAFFLED 277‘
take our own course. We knew what to do—and we went”
fully prepared.
“Now we come to this—our second visit to the house-
in Maida Vale. To be exact, it was between eleven and
twelve on the second night after the disappearance of
the diamond. As on the previous night, we gained access
to the garden by the door at the back—that, on each
occasion, was unfastened, while the gate giving access
to the road in Maida Vale was securely locked. And, as
on the previous night, we quickly found that up to then
at any rate, the house was empty. But not so the gar-
den! While I was looking round the further side of
the house, Purvis took a careful look round the garden.
And presently he came to me and drew away to the
asphalted path which runs from the front gate to the
front door. The moon had risen above the houses and
trees—and in its light he pointed to bloodstains. It
did not take a second look, gentlemen, to see that they
were recent—in fact, fresh. Somebody had been mur-
dered in that garden not many minutes—literally, min-
utes!—before our arrival. And within two minutes‘
more we found the murdered man lying behind some
shrubbery on the left of the path. I knew him for the
younger of the two Chinese-—the man called Chen Li.
“This discovery, of course, made us aware that we
were now face to face with a new development. We were
not long in arriving at a conclusion about that. Chang
Li had found out that his friend had become possessed
of these valuable—-he might have discovered the matter
of the diamond, or of the bank-notes or both—how was-


278 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
immaterial. But we were convinced, putting everything
together, that he had made this discovery, had probably
‘laid in wait for Chen Li as he returned home that night,
had run a knife into him as he went up the garden, had
dragged the body into the shrubbery, possessed himself
of the loot, and made ofi. And now we were face to
face with what was going, as we knew, to be the stiflI'eSt
part of our work—the finding 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 of Chinamen; we have both had
deep and intimate experience of them and their ways.
I, personally, know a good deal of the Chinese Colony
in London: I have done business with Chinamen, both in
London and South Africa, for years. I had a good idea
of what Chang Li’s procedure would be. He would hide
—if need be, for months, until the first heat of the hue
.and cry which he knew would be sure to be raised, would
have cooled down. There are several underground war-
rens—so to speak—in the East End, in which he could
go to earth, comfortably and safely, until there was a
chance of slipping out of the country unobserved. I
know already of some of them. I would get to know of
others.
“Purvis and I got on that track—such as it was, at
once. We went along to the East End there and then—-
before morning I had shaved ofi my beard and mustache,
disguised myself in old clothes, and was beginning my
work. First thing next inorning I did two things-
one was to cause a telegram to be sent from Spring Street
to my butler explaining my probable absence; the other to


BAFFLED 279
secretly warn the Bank of England about the bank-notes.
But I had no expectation that Chang Li would try to ne-
gotiate those—all his energies, I knew, would be concen-
trated on the diamond. Nevertheless, he might try—
and would, if he tried—succeed—in changing one note,
and it was as well to take that precaution.
“Now then, next day, Purvis and I being, in our dif-
ferent ways, at work in the East End, we heard the news
about the Praed Street tradesman, Parslett. That seemed
to me remarkable proof of my theory. As the successive
editions of the newspapers came out during that day,
and next day, we learnt all about the Parslett affair. I
saw through it at once. Parslett, being next-door neigh-
bour to Daniel Multenius, had probably seen Chen Li—
whom we now believed to have been the actual thief—
slip away from Multenius’s door, and, when the news
of Daniels death came out, had put two and two to-
gether, and, knowing where the Chinamen lived, had
gone to the house in Maida Vale to blackmail them. I
guessed what had happened then—Parslett, to quieten
him for the moment, had been put ofi with fifty pounds
in gold, and promised more—and he had also been skil-
fully poisoned in such a fashion that he would get safely
away from the premises but die before he got home. And
when he was safe away, Chang Li had murdered Chen
Li, and made off. So—as I still think—all our theories
were correct, and the only thing to do was to find Chang. ”
But here Levendale paused, glanced at Stephen Pur-
vis, and spread out his hands with a gesture which in-
dicated failure and disappointment. His glance moved
from Stephen Purvis to the police ofiicials


280 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“All no good!” he exclaimed. “It’s useless to deny
it. I have been in every Chinese den and haunt in East
London—I’m certain that Chang Li is nowhere down
there. I have spent money like water—employed Chi-
nese and Easterns on whom I could depend—there isn’t
a trace of him! And so—we gave up last night. Pur-
vis and I—baflled. We’ve come to you police people—”
“You should have done that before, Mr. Levendale,”
said the Inspector severely. “You haven ’t given us
much credit, I think, and if you ’d told all this at first—"
Before the Inspector could say more, a constable
"tapped at the door and put his head into the room. His
.eyes sought Ayscough.
“There’s a young gentleman—foreigner—asking for
you, Mr. Ayscough,’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘Wants to see you at once
—name of Mr. Yada.”


282 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
crossed the threshold and looked first at Ayscough and
then at the ring of attentive faces. “I want to speak to
you on that little affair of last night, you know. I sup-
pose you are discussing it with these gentlemen? Well,
perhaps I can now give you some information that will
be useful.”
“Glad to hear anything, Mr. Yada,” said Ayscough,
who was striving hard to conceal his surprise. “Any-
thing that you can tell us. You’ve heard something
during the night, then?”
Yada laughed pleasantly, showing his white teeth.
He dropped into the chair which Ayscough pushed for-
ward, and slowly drew efi 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 went to the mor-
tuary.”
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 easy attitude as he leaned
against the door, and looked speculatively at the new
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, to make 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 the listening men on either side of the desk.


YADA TAKES CHARGE 283
They were cool, bold, half-insolent eyes which received
face after face, showing no recognition of any until they
encountered Melky Rubinstein’s watchful countenance.
And to Melky, Yada accorded a slight nod—and turned
to Ayscough again.
“Which,” he asked calmly, “which of these gentlemen
is the owner of the diamond? 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 ob-
vious doubt about answering this direct question, Leven-
dale let out a sharp, half-irritable exclamation:
“In God’s name!” he said, “who is this young man?
What does he know about the diamond and the money?”
Yada turned and faced his questioner—and suddenly
smiling, thrust his hand in his breast Pocket and drew
out a card-case. With a polite bow he handed 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 on information received from Dr.
Pittery, one of the junior house-surgeons at University
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 on Mr. Yada last night to make enquiries.
And of course I had to tell him about the missing prop-
erty—though to be sure, that’s news that’s common to
everybody now—through the papers. And—what else
have you to tell, Mr. Yada'.I”
But Yada was watching Levendale—who, on his part,


YADA TAKES CHARGE 285
who prided himself on being a judge of expressions, it
was evident that the younger man was more than the
equal of the older. It was Levendale who gave way—
and when he took his eyes ofli 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 are beyond 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 know first 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 mar-
ket, eh?”
‘ ‘ They ’re all either police, or detectives, or concerned,”
retort.ed Levendale. “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 his fingers.
“Three items, then, Mr. Levendale,” he replied cheer-
fully. “First—the knowledge of who has got the dia-
mond and the money. Second—the knowledge of where
he is at this moment, and will be for some hours. Third


286 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
——the knowledge 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 the informer ’s wily countenance. To his sur-
prise, he saw none. Instead, Yada assumed an almost
sanctimonious air. He seemed to consider matters—
though his answer was speedy.
“I don’t want to profit—unduly—by this affair,” he
said- “At the same time, from all I’ve heard, I’m ren-
dering you and your friend a very important service, and
I think it only fair that I should be remunerated- Give
me something towards the expenses of my medical educa-
tion, Mr. Levendale: give me five hundred pounds.”
With the briefest exchange of glances with Stephen
Purvis, Levendale pulled out a cheque-book, dashed off
a cash cheque, and handed it over to the 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 the money. And he is at this mo-
ment where he has been for some days, in hiding. He is
in a secret room at a place called Pilmansey’s Tea Rooms,
in Tottenham Court Road—a place much frequented
by medical students from our college. The fact of the
case is, Mr. Policeman, and the rest of you generally,
there is a secret opium den at Pilmansey’s, though no-
body knows of 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


CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
1>11.M.ms1<:Y’s TEA ROOMS
Two hours later, it being then a quarter-to-one o’clock,
Purdie and Lauriston got out of a taxi-cab at the north-
end of Tottenham Court Road and walked down the
right-hand side of that busy thoroughfare, keeping ap-
parently careless but really vigilant eyes open for a first
glimpse of the appointed rendezvous. But Pilmansey’s
Tea Rooms required little searching out. In the midst
of the big modern warehouses, chiefly given up to furni-
ture and upholstery, there stood at that time a block of
old property which was ancient even for London. The
buildings were plainly early eighteenth century: old red-
brick erections with narrow windows in the fronts and
dormer windows in the high, sloping roofs. Some of
them were already doomed to immediate dismantlement;
the tenants had cleared out, there were hoardings raised
to protect passers-by from falling masonry, and bills and
posters on the threatened walls announced that during
the rebuilding, business would be carried on as usual at
some other specified address. But Pilmansey’s, so far,
remained untouched, and the two searchers saw that cus-
tomers were going in and out, all unaware that before
evening their favourite resort for a light mid-day meal
would attain a fame and notoriety not at all promised
by its very ordinary and commonplace exterior.
289


290 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“An excellent example of the truth of the old saying
that you should never judge by appearances, Andie, my
man 1” remarked Purdie, as they took a quick view of the
place. “Who’d imagine that crime, dark secrets, and
all the rest of it lies concealed behind this ‘£—behind the
promise of tea and mufiins, milk and buns! It’s a queer
world, this London !—you never know what lies behind
any single bit of the whole microcosm- But let ’s see
what’s to be seen inside.”
The first thing to be seen inside the ground floor room
into which they stepped was the man from New Scotland
Yard, who, in company with another very ordina1'y-look-
ing individual was seated at a little table just inside the
entrance, leisurely consuming cofi’ee and beef sandwiches.
He glanced at the two men as if he had never seen them
in his life, and they, preserving equally stolid expressions
with credit if not with the detective ’s ready and trained
ability, passed further on—only to recognize Levendale
and Stephen Purvis, who had found accommodation in a
quiet corner half-way down the room. 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 com-
monplace 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-counter at the rear, be-
yond which was a smaller room that was evidently given


PILMANSEY’S TEA ROOMS 293
not one. I don’t see the J ap, either. But—here’s the
Inspector—done up in plain clothes.”
The Inspector came in with a man whom neither
Purdie nor Lauriston had ever seen before—a quietly
but well-dressed man about whom there was a distinct
air of authority. They walked down the room to a table
near the counter, ordered coffee and lighted cigarettes——
and the two young Scotsmen, watching them closely,
saw that they took a careful look round as if to ascertain
the strength of their forces. And suddenly, as Lauris-
ton was eating his second sandwich, the Inspector rose,
quietly walked 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 Pilman-
seys, whom he recognized as important actors in the
drama about to be played. One of them slightly taller,
slightly greyer than the other, was leaning forward to
the Inspector, and was evidently amazed at what was
being said to him, for he started, glanced questioningly
at his visitor, exchanged a hurried word or two with him
and then turned to his brother. A second later, both
men laid down their great knives and forks, left their
counter, and beckoned the Inspector to follow them into
a room at the rear of the shop. And the Inspector in
his turn, beckoned Ayscough with a mere glance, and
Ayscough in his, made an inviting movement to the rest
of the party.
“Come on!” said Purdie. “Let’s hear what’s hap-
pening.”
The proprietors of the tea-rooms had led the 1nspec-


294 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
tor and the man who was with him into what was evi-
dently a private room—and when Lauriston and Purdie
reached the door they were standing on the hearth rug,
side by side, each in a very evident state of amazement,
staring at a document which the Inspector was display-
ing to them. They looked up from it to glance with an-
noyance, at the other men who came quietly and expec-
tantly crowding into the room.
“More of your people?” asked the elder man, quer-
ulously. “Look here, you know !—we don ’t see the need
for all this fuss, not for your interrupting our business
in this way! One or two of you, surely, would have been
enough without bringing a troop of people on to our
premises—all this is unnecessary!”
“You ’ll allow us to be the best judge of what ’s neces-
sary and what isn’t, Mr. Pilmansey,” retorted the In-
spector. “There’ll be no fuss, no bother—needn’t be,
anyway, if you tell us what we want to know, and don ’t
oppose us in what we’ve got power to do. Here’s a
warrant—granted on certain information—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. young Chinaman, one Chang Li, who, we
are informed, is concealed here, and has valuable stolen
property on him. Now, then, do you know anything
about him? Is he here?’ ’
The two men exchanged glances. For a moment they


296 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
own. So they can go in and out as they like—they never
bother us. But, as a matter of fact, there are only four
or five of them who are members now—the others have
all left. That’s the real truth—and I tell you I don’t
know if Mr. Chang Li might be up there or not. We
know nothing about what they do in their roon1s—they’re
only our tenants. ’ ’
“Let me ask you one question,” said the Inspector.
“Have either of you ever been in those rooms since you
let them to these people?”
“No!” answered the elder man. “Neither of us—at
any time!’ ’
“Then,” commanded the Inspector, “I’ll thank you
to come up with us to them—now!”


CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
cums 1.1
Not without some grumbling as to waste of time and
interference with business, the Pilmansey brothers led
the way to a side door which opened into a passage that
ran along the side of the shop and from whence a stair-
case 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 the rooms 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’ve nothing to do with them, and we don ’t know any-
thing about whatever they may do in their rooms—all
we ’re concerned with is that they pay their rent and be-
have themselves. And quiet enough they ’ve always been
—we’ve had -no reason to complain.”
“And, as they all have latch-keys, I suppose they
can get into the place at any hour of the day—or night ? ’ ’
suggested the Inspector. “There’s no bar against them
coming here at night?”
“They can come in—and go out/—whenever they
please,” answered the elder man. “I tell you we’ve
nothing to do with them—except as their landlords.”
“Where do you live—yourselves?” asked the Inspec-
tor. “On these premises?”
297


300 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
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 two
other young men, correctly attired in English clothes,
but obviously Chinese from their eyebrows to their toes,
playing chess.
The holder of the tea-pot cast a quick glance at the dis-
turbance of this peaceful scene, and set down his tea-pot;
the chess-players looked up for one second, showed not
the faintest sign of perturbation—and looked down
again. Then the man of the tea-pot spoke—one word.
“Yes?” he said.
“ The fact is, Mister, ” said the elder Pilmansey, ‘ ‘these
are police-ofiioers. They want one of your friends—Mr.
Chang Li.”
The three occupants of the room appeared to pay no
attention. The ches-players went on playing; the other
man reached for a canister, and mechanically emptied
tea out of it into his pot.
“ Shut and lock that door, Ayscough,” said the Inspec-
tor. “Let somebody stand by it. Now,” he continued,
turning to the three Chinese, “is one of you 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 by Oriental impassivity, he turned
to the Pilmanseys. “What other rooms are there here?’ ’
he asked.
“Two,” answered the elder brother, pointing to the


CHANG LI 301
curtains at the rear of the room. ‘ ‘ One there——the other
there. Behind those hangings—two smaller rooms.”
The Inspector strode forward and tore the curtains
aside. He flung open the 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 the rooms came afresh, out of the
newly-opened door, in a thick wave. And as the rest of
them crowded after the Inspector, they saw why. This
was a small room, hung like the first one with curiously-
figured curtains, and lighted only by a sky-light, over
which a square of blue stufi had been draped- In the
subdued life they saw that there was nothing in that
room but a lounge well fitted with soft cushions and pil-
lows-and on it, his spare figure wrapped in a loose gown,
lay a young Chinaman, who, as the foremost advanced
upon him, blinked in their wondering faces out of eyes
the 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-shop strode forward and seized
the recumbent figure by the shoulder, shaking him
gently.
“Now then!” he said, sharply, “wake up, my man!
Are you Chang Li?”
The glazed eyes lifted themselves a little wonderingly;
the dry lips moved-
“Yes,” he muttered. “Chang Li—yes. You want
me?”


302 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
“How long have you been here?” demanded the ques-
tioner.
“How long—yes? Oh—I don’t know. What do you
want?” asked Chang Li. “I don’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 you call on the break-out—with
opium—ever so many days. He has—attacks that way.
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——stupifying himself? 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 trying to do anything with him when he
takes the fit—the craving, you understand ?—into his
head. If you want any information out of him, you’d
better call again in a few hours.”
“Do you mean to tell me he ’s been here—like that—-
several days?” demanded the Inspector.
“The young man with the tea-pot grinned again.
“He ’s never been at a class at the medical school since
the 17th,” he announced. “I know that—he’s in some
classes with me. He’s been here—all the time since
then.”
The Inspector turned sharply on Ayscough.
“The 17th!” he exclaimed. “And that affair was on
the 18th! Then—”


CHANG LI 303
Chang Li was fumbling in a pocket of his gown. He
found something there, raised a hand to his lips, swal-
lowed something. And in a few seconds, as his eyes
grew brighter, he turned a suspicious and sullen glance
on the group which stood watching him.
“What do you want?” he growled. “Who are you?”
“We want some information from you,” said the In-
spector. “When did you last 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—perhaps not 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 evident that as his wits cleared his temper
was becoming ugly. He began to look round with more
intelligence, scanning one face after another with grow-
ing dislike, and presently he muttered certain observa-
tions to himself which, though not in English, sounded
anything but complimentary to those who watched him.
And Ayscough suddenly turned to the superior oliicials.
“If this man’s been here ever since the 17th,” he said,
“he can’t have had anything to do with the affairs in
Praed Street and Maida Vale! Supposing, now—I’m
only supposing—that young J ap ’s been lying all the
time?” He turned again—this time on the two chess-
players, who had now interrupted their game and were
leaning back in their chairs, evidently amused at the


304 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
bafied 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—a very smart fellow,
.Yada. You know him—too'I”
But before Ayscough could reply to this somewhat
vexatious question, a man who had been left in the tea-
rooms came hurrying up the staircase and burst in upon
them. He made straight for the Inspector.
“Man from the ofiice, Sir, outside in a taxi!” he ex-
claimed breathless-ly. “You’re on the wrong track-
you ’re to get to Multenius’s shop in Praed Street 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, he crossed the street, and taking up a posi-
tion just within a narrow alley on the 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, presently tripped down the steps of the police-
station and went leisurely off, swinging his neatly rolled
umbrella. As long as he was within sight of the police-
station windows he kept up the same gentle pace—but as
soon as he had turned the first corner his steps were
quickened, and he made for a spot to which Melky had
expected him to make—a cab-rank, on which two or three
taxi-cabs were drawn up. He had reached the first, and
was addressing 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 a second his white teeth showed them-
selves in an unmistakable snarl, and a savage gleam came
into his dark eyes. Both snarl and gleam passed as
quickly as they had come, and the next instant he was
smiling—as blandly as ever.
“Oh, yes!” he said. “It is you—how do you dot
aos


THE JEW AND THE JAP 307
“What are you after?” he demanded. “What is your
game eh? You think to alarm me !—what do you
want 1’ ’
“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 rail-
way station. That ’s it, ain’t it, now? No blooming
good, mister—they’re ready for you the minute you walk
into that bank! If they don ’t take you then, they ’ll only
wait to follow you to the station. Mister !—you ain’t a
cat’s chance !—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 by that time, and were in a main street,
which lay at the back of Praed Street. He glanced at
Melky’s face—which suggested just then nothing but cun-
ning 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 po-
lice in London won’t find you for the rest of today, and
get you out of it at night in such a fashion that you’ll
be as safe as if you was at home. You won’t never see
your home in J apan, again, mister, if you don’t depend
on yours truly! And a hundred ain’t nothing—con-
sidering what you ’ve got at stake.”
“I haven’t a hundred pounds to give you,” answered
Yada. “I have scarcely any money but this cheque.”
“In course you ain’t, mister !” agreed Melky. “I


308 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND‘
twigged your game straight ofi?—you only came there to
the police-station to put yourself in funds for your
journey! But that ’s all right !—you come along of me,
and let me put you in safety—then you give me that
cheque-—I’ll get it cashed in ten minutes without going
to any banks—see? Friend o’ mine hereabouts—he’ll
cash 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’m telling you about.’ ’
The bluff was going down—Melky felt, as much as saw,
that Yada was swallowing it in buckets. And he slipped
his hand within his companion ’s arm, piloted him along
the street, across Praed Street, round the back of the
houses into the narrow passage which communicated
with the rear of the late Daniel Multenius’s premises,
and in at the little door which opened on the parlour
wherein so many events had recently taken place.
‘ ‘Where are you taking me?” asked Yada, suspiciously,
as they crossed the threshold.
“All serene, mister!” answered Melky, re-assuringly.
“Friend o’ mine here—my cousin. All right—and all
secure. You ’re as safe here as you will be in your grave,
mister—s’elp me, you are! Zillah!”
Zillah walked into the parlour and justified Melky’s
supreme confidence in her by showing no surprise or
embarrassment. She gave Yada the merest glance, and
turned to Melky.
“Bit o’ business with this young gentleman, Zillah,”
said Melky. “That little room, upstairs, now—what'I”
“Oh, all right!” said Zillah, indifferently. “You
know your way—you’ll be quiet enough there.”


THE JEW AND THE JAP 309:
Melky signed to Yada to follow him, and led the way
up the stairs to the very top of the house. He conducted
the Japanese into the small room in which were some an-
cient moth-and-Iworm-eaten bits of furniture, an old
chest or two, and a plenitude of dust—and carefully
closed the door when he and his captive had got inside.
“Now, mister!” he said, “you’re as safe here as you
could be in any spot in 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
London tonight? All right—then hand over your check
and keep quiet till I come back. 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 ?—I don ’t pick up a hundred quid
every day, I assure you! So if there is anything—”
“A suit-case—at the luggage ofiice at Oxford Circus
Tube,” said Yada. “I must have it—papers, you un-
derstand. If you will get me that—”
“Give me the ticket—and that cheque,” said Melky..
He slipped the two bits of paper into his pocket, and
made for the door. “I’ll turn the key outside,” he said.
“You’ll be safer. Make yourself comfortable, mister-
I’l1 be back in an hour with the money and the goods.”
Two minutes later Melky confronted Zillah in the par-
lour and grinned at her. Zillah regarded him suspi-
ciously.
“What ’s this, Melky?” she demanded. “What’re you
up to 1 ”


THE JEW AND THE JAP 311
his chance of making a quiet penny, 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 the cheque, that he cashed it and made ofi with all
the money, never to return? .
On top of that thought, Melky did return—much
sooner than Yada had expected. He opened the door
and beckoned the prisoner out into the dark lobby 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 by two bulky policemen. The po-
licemen were very quiet—but Melky laughed gleefully
while Yada screamed and cursed him. And while he
laughed Melky went through his prisoner’s pockets in a
knowing and skilful fashion, and when he had found
what he expected to find, he made his helpers lock Yada
up again, and taking them downstairs to the parlour
laid his discoveries on the table before them and Zillah.
There was a great orange-yellow diamond 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 party from Pilmansey’s Tea Rooms came
tumbling into the shop and the parlour, an hour later.
Melky was calmly smoking a cigar—and he went on
smoking it as he led the Inspector and his men upstairs
to the prisoner. He could not deprive himself of the
pleasure of a dig at Ayscough.
“Went one better than you again, Mr. Ayscough,”


312 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
he said, as he laid his hand on the key of the locked room.
“Now if I hadn’t seen through my young gentleman—”
But there, as Melky threw open the door, his words of
assurance came to an end. His face dropped as he stared
into an empty room. Yada had risked his neck, and
gone down the water-pipe.


314 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
amounted, when all was heard, to this—Yada was willing
to confess that for a few days he had been a successful
thief, but he stoutly denied that he was a murderer.
This was his story :—On the 18th November, in the
evening, he was at the club which housed itself in Pil-
mansey’s attic. There he saw Chang Li, who, according
to the other members who were there, was beginning one
of his periodic fits of opium smoking, and had been in
the inner room, stupifying himself, since the previous
day. Yada knew that it was highly necessary that Chang
Li should be in attendance at certain classes at the medi-
cal school during the next few days, and tried to rouse
him out of his debauch, 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 until he had
had enough of them. For two days nobody at the club
nor at the school had seen Chen Li—and Chen Li was the
only person who could do anything with Chang. So, late
that night of the 19th November, Yada went up to Maida
Vale, taking Chang Li ’s keys with him. He admitted
himself to garden and house and found the house empty.
But just as he was entering the front door he heard the
voice of Chen Li at the garden gate; he also heard the
voice of an Englishman. Also he caught something of
what that Englishman said. He was telling Chen Li
that he’d better take him, the Englishman, inside, and
settle with him—or things would be all the worse. And
at that, he, Yada, had slipped into the house, quietly
closed the front door behind him, gone into the front
room, hidden himself behind a curtain and waited.
Into that front room, Chen Li had presently conducted


THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 315
a man. He was, said Yada, a low-class Englishman-
what is called a Cockney. He had begun to threaten
Chen Li at once. He told his tale. He was, said this
fellow, next door neighbour to Mr. Daniel Multenius, in
Praed Street, Chen Li ’s landlord: his name, if Chen Li
wanted to know it, was Parslett, fruiterer and green-
grocer, and it was there, bold as brass, over his shop-
door, for him or anybody to look at. He had a side-door
to his house: that side-door was exactly opposite a side-
door in Mr. Multenius’s house, opening into his back-
parlour. Now, the previous afternoon, he, Parslett, had
had a consignment of very fine mushrooms sent in—rare
things at that time of year—and knowing that the old
man had a great taste for them and didn’t mind what
price he paid, he stepped across with a dish of them to
tempt him. He found Mr. Multenius in his parlour—he
was counting a lot of bank-notes—they must, said Pars-
lett, have represented a large sum. The old man bade
him leave the mushrooms, said he’d send him the money
across presently, and motioned him out. Parslett put the
dish of mushrooms aside on a chiffonier and went away.
Somewhat later, chancing to be at his front door and
looking out into the street, he saw Chen Li open the door
of Multenius’s shop and go swiftly away. Half-an-hour
after that he heard that something had happened at Mul-
tenius’s-—later in the evening he heard definitely that
the old man had been assaulted under circumstances
which pointed to murder for the sake of robbery. And
then he, Parslett, now put two and two together—and
had fixed on Chen Li as the culprit. And now—how
much was Chen Li going to pay for silence?


320 THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND
hands, and stared at Melky 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 this here—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 platinum
solitaire on the table, and if Mrs. Goldmark hadn’t taken
care of that platinum solitaire, and if things hadn’t
sprung from it—eh, what then, I should like to know?
So Mrs. Goldmark is entitled to whatever little present
there is !—that’s how I put it, Mrs. Goldmark. And
Mr. Levendale and Mr. Purvis, they agreed with me—-
and oh, Mrs. Goldmark, ain’t you going to be nice and
let me put this round your beautiful neck?” ‘
Mrs. Goldmark screamed again as Melky produced a
diamond necklace, lying in a blue velvet bed in a fine
morocco case. The glitter of the diamonds turned both
beholders hoarse with emotion.
“Do you know what, Mrs. Goldmark!” whispered
Melky. “It cost a thousand guineas—and no error!
Now you bend your lovely head, and I puts it on you—-
oh, ain’t you more beautiful than the Queen of Sheba!
And ain’t you Melky’s queen, Mrs. Goldmark—say you
was!”
“Lor’, Mr. Rubinstein!” said Mrs. Goldmark, coyly.
“It’s as if you was proposing to me!”
“Why, ain’t I?” exclaimed Melky, gathering courage.
“Don’t you see I’m in all 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


THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 321
with Levendale’s governess, and—oh, Mrs. Goldmark,
ain’t I worshipped you every time I come to eat my
dinner in your eating house? Ain’t you the loveliest
woman in all Paddington. Say the word, Mrs. Gold-
mark—don’t you see I’m like as if I was that hungry
I could eat you?”
Then Mrs. Goldmark said the word—and presently
escaped from Melky’s embrace to look at herself and her
necklace in the mirror.
THEEID


"The Book: You Like to Read
at the Price You Like to Pay"

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—“~
THE ORAN GE-
YELLOW
DIAMOND
By J. s. FLETCHER
Lauriston came to pawn a
ring; he stayed to talk to Zil-
lah, the pawnbroker’s pretty
grand-daughter. That’s how
Lauriston came to be impli-
cated in the murder of the
old pawnbroker and the dar-
ing theft that accompanied it.
Only after a chase that led
all through London, follow-
ing clues that doubled back
from the mines of Kimber-
ley, was Lauriston cleared.
And did they get the real
criminal after all? The astute.
reader will puzzle his brains
a bit before he can answer
that. Anyway, here is a tale
which all of Mr. Flercher’s
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all others—will enjoy to
the end.
M