CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE CALL FOR HELP
Purdie, whose temperament inclined him to slowness and deliberation inface of any grave crisis, motioned the detective to take a seat in thequiet corner of the smoking-room, into which they had retreated, andsat down close by him.
"Now, to begin with," he said, "why do you think this affair isconnected with the affair of the old pawn-broker? There must be somelink."
"There is a link, sir," answered Ayscough. "The man was old DanielMultenius's next door neighbour: name of Parslett--James Parslett,fruit and vegetable dealer. Smallish way of business, but well knownenough in that quarter. Now, I'll explain something to you. I'm no handat drawing," continued the detective, "but I think I can do a bit of arough sketch on this scrap of paper which will make clear to you thelie of the land. These two lines represent Praed Street. Here, where Imake this cross, is Daniel Multenius's pawnshop. The front part ofit--the jeweller's shop--looks out on Praed Street. At the side is anarrow passage or entry: from that you get access to the pledge-office.Now then, Multenius's premises run down one side of this passage:Parslett's run down the other. Parslett's house has a side-door intoit, exactly opposite the door into Multenius's pledge office. Is thatclear, Mr. Purdie?"
"Quite!" answered Purdie. "I understand it exactly."
"Then my theory is, that Parslett saw the real murderer of DanielMultenius come out of Multenius's side-door, while he, Parslett, wasstanding at his own; that he recognized him, that he tried to blackmailhim yesterday, and that the man contrived to poison him, in such afashion that Parslett died shortly after leaving him," said Ayscough,confidently. "It's but a theory--but I'll lay anything I'm not far outin it!"
"What reason have you for thinking that Parslett blackmailed themurderer?" asked Purdie.
"This!" answered the detective, with something of triumph in his tone."I've been making some enquiries already this morning, early as it is.When Parslett was picked up and carried to the hospital--this St.Mary's Hospital, close by here--he was found to have fifty pounds ingold in his pocket. Now, according to Parslett's widow, whom I've seenthis morning, Parslett was considerably hard up yesterday. Trade hasn'tbeen very good with him of late, and she naturally knows hiscircumstances. He went out of the house last night about nine o'clock,saying he was going to have a stroll round, and the widow says she'scertain he'd no fifty pounds on him when he left her--it would be awonder, she says, if he'd as much as fifty shillings! Now then, Mr.Purdie, where did a man like that pick up fifty sovereigns between thetime 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 tothink of. But Mrs. Parslett says they haven't a friend from whom hecould have borrowed such an amount--not one! No, sir!--my belief isthat Parslett saw some man enter and leave Multenius's shop; that heknew the man; that he went and plumped him with the affair, and thatthe man gave him that gold to get rid of him at the moment--andcontrived 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 twofacts--first, that the murderer is some man who lives in thisneighbourhood, 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 toldour people that I, personally, was convinced of the young fellow'scomplete innocence from the very first--and it was I who found him inthe shop. It's a most unfortunate thing that he was there, and a sadcoincidence that those rings of his were much of a muchness with therings 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'sno common affair--old Daniel Multenius was attacked bysomebody--somebody!--for some special reason--and it's going to take alot of getting at. And I'm convinced this Parslett affair is adevelopment--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 turnedout to be one of a very subtle nature, that would prove that whoeveradministered 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, wemight get to know, now. There's one or two of their specialists beenmaking an examination. It's only a mere step along the street."
Purdie followed the detective out and along Praed Street. Before theyreached the doors of the hospital, a man came up to Ayscough: a solid,substantial-looking person, of cautious manner and watchful eye, whoseglance wandered speculatively from the detective to his companion.Evidently sizing Purdie up as some one in Ayscough's confidence, hespoke--in the fashion of one who has something as mysterious, asimportant, to communicate.
"Beg your pardon, Mr. Ayscough," he said. "A word with you sir. Youknow 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 passers-bymight not hear. "There's something I can tell you--I've heard all aboutthe matter from Parslett's wife. But I've not told her what I can tellyou, Mr. Ayscough."
"And--what's that?" enquired the detective.
"I'm Parslett's landlord, you know," continued Goodyer. "He's had thatshop and dwelling-house of me for some years. Now, Parslett's not beendoing very well of late, from one cause or another, and to put it in anutshell, he owed me half a year's rent. I saw him yesterday, and toldhim I must have the money at once: in fact, I pressed him pretty hardabout it.--I'd been at him for two or three weeks, and I could see itwas no good going on. He'd been down in the mouth about it, the lastweek or so, but yesterday afternoon he was confident enough. 'Now, youneedn't alarm yourself, Mr. Goodyer,' he said. 'There's a nice bit ofmoney going to be paid to me tonight, and I'll settle up with youbefore 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 aminute, but you can rely on me calling at your house in St. Mary'sTerrace before eleven o'clock--with the money.' And he was so certainabout it, Mr. Ayscough, that I said no more than that I should be muchobliged, and I'd wait up for him. And," concluded Goodyer, "I did waitup--till half-past twelve--but he never came. So this morning, ofcourse, I walked round here--and then I heard what happened--about himbeing picked up dying and since being dead--with fifty pounds in goldin his pocket. Of course, Mr. Ayscough, that was the money he referredto."
"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 comingfrom?"
"Not one syllable!" answered Goodyer. "But I could see he was dead sureof having it."
"Well--keep quiet about it," continued Ayscough. "There'll be aninquest, you know, and what you have to tell'll come in handy, then.There's some mystery about all this affair, Mr. Goodyer, and it's goingto take some unravelling."
"You're right!" said Goodyer. "I believe you!"
He went off along the street, and the detective turned to Purdie andmotioned him towards the hospital.
"Queer, all that, sir!" he muttered. "Very queer! But it all tends toshowing that my theory's the right one. Now if you'll just stop in thewaiting-room a few minutes, I'll find out if these doctors have come toany conclusion about the precise nature of the poison."<
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Purdie waited for ten minutes, speculating on the curiosities of themystery into which he had been so strangely plunged: at last thedetective came back, shaking his head.
"Can't get a definite word out of 'em, yet," he said, as they wentaway. "There's two or three of 'em--big experts in--what do you callit--oh, yes, toxology--putting their heads together over the analysingbusiness, and they won't say anything so far--they'll leave that to theinquest. But I gathered this much, Mr. Purdie, from the one I spoketo--this man Parslett was poisoned in some extremely clever fashion,and by some poison that's not generally known, which was administeredto him probably half-an-hour before it took effect. What's that argue,sir, but that whoever gave him that poison is something of an expert?Deep game, Mr. Purdie, a very deep game indeed!--and now I don't thinkthere's much need to be anxious about that young friend of yours. I'mcertain, anyway, that the man who poisoned Parslett is the man whokilled poor old Daniel Multenius. But--we shall see."
Purdie parted from Ayscough outside the hospital and walked along toMrs. Flitwick's house in Star Street. He met Melky Rubinstein emergingfrom the door; Melky immediately pulled out a telegram which he thrustinto Purdie's hand.
"Just come, mister!" exclaimed Melky. "There's a word for you in it--Iwas going to your hotel. Read what he says."
Purdie unfolded the pink paper and read.
"On the track all right understand Purdie is in town if he comes toStar Street explain all to him will wire again later in day."
"Good!" said Purdie. He handed back the telegram and lookedmeditatively at Melky. "Are you busy this morning?" he asked.
"Doing no business whatever, mister," lisped Melky, solemnly. "Notuntil this business is settled--not me!"
"Come to the hotel with me," continued Purdie. "I want to talk to youabout something."
But when they reached the hotel, all thought of conversation was drivenout of Purdie's mind for the moment. The hall-porter handed him a note,remarking that it had just come. Purdie's face flushed as he recognizedthe handwriting: he turned sharply away and tore open the envelope.Inside, on a half-sheet of notepaper, were a few lines--from the prettygoverness at Mr. Spencer Levendale's.
"Can you come here at once and ask for me? There is something seriouslywrong: I am much troubled and have no one in London I can consult."
With a hasty excuse to Melky, Purdie ran out of the hotel, and set offin quick response to the note.