Part 13 (2/2)

Purdie, where did a man like that pick up fifty sovereigns between the time he went out, and the time he was picked up, dying?”

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

”I thought of that, sir,” said Ayscough. ”It seems the natural thing 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 silence.

”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 Ayscough 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 affair--old Daniel Multenius was attacked by somebody--somebody!--for some special reason--and it's 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 much.”

”You say you don't know what particular poison was used?” asked Purdie.

”It would be something of a clue to know that. Because, if it turned out to be one of a very subtle nature, that would prove that whoever administered 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 making 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 fas.h.i.+on of one who has something as mysterious, as important, to communicate.

”Beg your pardon, Mr. Ayscough,” he said. ”A word with you sir. You know me, Mr. Ayscough?”

Ayscough looked sharply at his questioner.

”Mr. Goodyer, isn't it?” he asked. ”Oh, yes, I remember. What is it?

You can speak before this gentleman--it's all right.”

”About this affair of last night--Parslett, you know,” said Goodyer, drawing the detective aside, and lowering his voice, so that pa.s.sers-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 Goodyer. ”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 nutsh.e.l.l, he owed me half a year's rent. I saw him yesterday, 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. Goodyer,' 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 certain?'

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'clock--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.”

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

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

”Don't!” said Ayscough. ”Keep it to yourself till I give you the word.

You didn't hear anything from Parslett as to where the money was coming from?”

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