"Grayson's told you about Mr. Levendale's going out last night, and never coming back, nor sending any message?" 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!"
Purdie started.
"The police!" he exclaimed. "What is it?"
Elsie Bennett turned to a table, and picked up a 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 schoolmate and friend of mine. I came here yesterday to see him, and found him plunged into this business. Of course, he's absolutely innocent."
"Has he been arrested?" asked Elsie, almost eagerly.
"No!" replied Purdie. "He's gone away—to get evidence 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 pawnbroker's parlour!" she went on. "The Spanish manuscript?"
"Said to have been lost by Mr. Levendale in an omnibus," answered Purdie. "Yes! What of it?"
The girl bent nearer to him.
"It seems a dreadful thing to say," she whispered,
