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. Lauriston," 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. Killick 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 details 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, John?" demanded Lauriston. "You've some idea in that head of yours!"
"The idea that you and that girl are in love with each other!" said Purdie wth a sly look.
"I'll not deny that!" asserted Lauriston, with an ingenuous 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!" remarked 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 hotel."
"You're spending a fine lot of money over me, John!" exclaimed Lauriston.
