"The man who lost
the platinum solitaire!"
Mrs. Goldmark who had dropped into the chair which Purdie had drawn to the
side of the table for her, wagged her head thoughtfully.
"This way it was, then," she said, with a dramatic suggestion of personal
enjoyment in revealing a new feature of the mystery, "I have a friend who
lives in Stanhope Street--Mrs. Isenberg. She sends to me at half-past-ten
to tell me she is sick. I go to see her--immediate. I find her very
poorly--so! I stop with her till past eleven, doing what I can. Then her
sister, she comes--I can do no more--I come away. And I walk through
Sussex Square, as my road back to Praed Street and Zillah. But before I am
much across Sussex Square, I stop--sudden, like that! For what? Because--I
see a man! That man! Him what drops his cuff-link on my table. Oh, yes!"
"You're sure it was that man, Mrs. Goldmark?" enquired Melky, anxiously.
"You don't make no mistakes, so?"
"Do I mistake myself if I say I see you, Mr. Rubinstein?" exclaimed Mrs.
Goldmark, solemnly and with emphasis. "No, I don't make no mistakes at
all. Is there not gas lamps?--am I not blessed with good eyes? I see him--
like as I see you there young gentleman and Zillah.
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