there not gas lamps?—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, desirous 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 question," 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 Purdie. "You took a good look at him, I suppose?"
"And a good one," answered Mrs. Goldmark. "He
