"I know that he's very rich, and
a very busy man, and a member of Parliament, and that he goes to the City
a great deal--and that's all! He's a very reserved man, too--of course, he
never tells me anything. I've never had any conversation with him
excepting about the children."
"You're upset about this book affair?" suggested Purdie.
"Why should Mr. Levendale say that he left that book in the omnibus, when
I myself saw him leave the 'bus with it in his hand, and go down Praed
Street with it?" she asked. "Doesn't it look as if he were the person who
left it in that room--where the old man was found lying dead?"
"That, perhaps, is the very reason why he doesn't want people to know that
he did leave it there," remarked Purdie, quietly. "There's more in all
this than lies on the surface. You wanted my advice? Very well don't say
anything to anybody till you see me again. I must go now--there's a man
waiting for me at my hotel. I may call again, mayn't I?"
"Do!" she said, giving him her hand. "I am bothered about this--it's
useless to deny it--and I've no one to talk to about it. Come--any time."
Purdie repressed a strong desire to stay longer, and to turn the
conversation to more personal matters.
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