"Word for word,
in every morning newspaper in London! He must have sent that advertisement
round to all the offices last night. And you'll notice," he added, turning
to the other official, "that this Mr. Levendale only lost this book about
four o'clock yesterday afternoon: therefore, it must have been taken to
Multenius's shop between then and when we saw it there."
"The old man may have found it in the 'bus," suggested a third police
officer who had come up. "Looks as if he had."
"No, mister," said Melky firmly. "Mr. Multenius wasn't out of the shop at
all yesterday afternoon--I've made sure o' that fact from my cousin. He
didn't find no book, gentlemen. It was brought there."
Ayscough picked up one of the papers and turned to Melky and Lauriston.
"Here!" he said. "We'll soon get some light on this. You two come with me
--we'll step round to Mr. Levendale."
Ten minutes later, the three found themselves at the door of one of the
biggest houses in Sussex Square; a moment more and they were being ushered
within by a footman who looked at them with stolid curiosity. Lauriston
gained a general impression of great wealth and luxury, soft carpets, fine
pictures, all the belongings of a very rich man's house--then he and his
companions were ushered into a large room, half study, half library,
wherein, at a massive, handsomely carved desk, littered with books and
papers, sat a middle-aged, keen-eyed man, who looked quietly up from his
writing-pad at his visitors.
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