"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, "but I must tell
somebody--I can't, I daren't keep it to myself any longer! Mr. Levendale
isn't telling the truth about that book!"
Purdie involuntarily glanced at the door--and drew his chair nearer to
Elsie's.
"You're sure of that?" he whispered. "Just so! Now--in what way?"
"It says here," answered Elsie, tapping the newspapers with her finger,
"that Mr.
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