Part 20 (1/2)

”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 Levendale 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 valuable metal known, and on every stud he had a device of his own invention carefully engraved. Here's my set!--and what Mr. Rubinstein's got there is part of another. Now, then, who's the man who's been dropping his cuff-links about?”

Purdie, who had listened with deep attention to the American's statement, immediately put a question.

”That's but answered by asking you something,” he said. ”You no doubt 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 circ.u.mstances--this was a queer sort of a secret deal, in which the a.s.sistance of various men of different nationality was wanted, and none of us knew any of the rest. However, I did come across the Englishman who was in it--afterwards. Recognized him, as a matter of fact, by his being in possession of those studs.”

”And who was he?” asked Purdie.

”A man named Purvis--Stephen Purvis,” answered Guyler. ”Sort of man 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.”

”Mister!” exclaimed Melky, eagerly. ”Could you describe this here Purvis, now? Just a bit of a description, like?”

”Sure!” answered the American. ”That is--as I remember him. Biggish, raw-boned, hard-bitten sort of a man--about my age--clean-shaven--looked 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 affair 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 Levendale affair in hand,” said Purdie. ”We've been in and out there, with Mr. Multenius's solicitor, all the afternoon and evening. But, of course, we couldn't tell 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 located at this hotel for a week or two. I struck it when I came here from the North, a few days back, and it suits me very well, and I guess I'll just stop here while I'm in London this journey. No, I've no objection to take a hand.

But--it seems to me--there's still a lot of difficulty about this young gentleman here--Mr. Lauriston. I read all the papers carefully, and sized up his predicament. 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 police have had an expert examining those rings, and the rings in the tray. He says there are marks--private, jewellers' marks in the two rings which correspond with marks in our rings. In fact, there's no doubt of it. And now, the police are certain that the two 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 exclaimed. ”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 Peebles 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 train. I remembered that if there was one person living in Peebles who would be likely to know about my mother and those rings, it would be an old friend of hers, Mrs. Taggart--you know her, John.”