That's my
theory, Mr. Purdie."
"Then--the only question now is--who's the man?" suggested Purdie.
"That's it, sir--who's the man?" agreed the detective. "One thing's quite
certain--if my theory's correct. He's a clever man--and an expert in the
use of poisons."
Purdie walked on a minute or two in silence, thinking.
"It's no use beating about the bush," he said at last. "Do you suspect Mr.
Levendale--after all you've collected in information--and after what I
told you about what his butler saw--that bottle and phial?"
"I think that Levendale's in it," replied the detective, cautiously. "I'm
sure he's in it--in some fashion. Our people are making no end of
enquiries about him this morning, in various quarters--there's half-a-
dozen of our best men at work in the City and the West End, Mr. Purdie.
He's got to be found! So, too, has this man Stephen Purvis--whoever he is.
We must find him, too."
"Perhaps these letters that Melky Rubinstein speaks of may throw some
light on that," said Purdie. "There must be some way of tracing him,
somewhere."
They were at the pawnshop by that time, and all six trooped in at the
side-entrance.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210