It was certainly odd that a man who was within five minutes'
walk of his own house should send a telegram there, when he had nothing to
do but walk down one street and turn the corner of another to give his
message in person.
"Sent off, do you see, sir, twenty minutes ago," observed the butler,
pointing to some figures in the telegram form. "So--Mr. Levendale must
have been close by--then!"
"Not necessarily," remarked Purdie. "He may have sent a messenger with
that wire--perhaps he himself was catching a train at Paddington."
Grayson shook his head knowingly.
"There's a telegraph office on the platform there, sir," he answered.
"However--there it is, and I suppose there's no more to be done."
He left the room again, and Purdie looked at the governess. She, too,
looked at him: there was a question in the eyes of both.
"What do you make of that?" asked Purdie after a pause.
"What do you make of it?" she asked in her turn.
"It looks odd--but there may be a reason for it," he answered. "Look
here!--I'm going to ask you a question. What do you know of Mr. Levendale?
You've been governess to his children for some time, haven't you?"
"For six months before he left Cape Town, and ever since we all came to
England, three years ago," she answered.
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