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The Orange Yellow Diamond

J >> J. S. Fletcher >> The Orange Yellow Diamond





THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND

His various listeners had heard all that the old solicitor had said, with
evident interest and attention--now, one of them voiced what all the rest
was thinking.

"What makes you think that, Mr. Killick?" asked the man from New Scotland
Yard. "Why should Levendale and Purvis have been trapped?"

Mr. Killick--who was obviously enjoying this return to the arena in which,
as some of those present well knew, he had once played a distinguished
part, as a solicitor with an extensive police-court practice--twisted
round on his questioner with a sly, knowing glance.

"You're a man of experience!" he answered. "Now come!--hasn't it struck
you that something went before the death of old Daniel Multenius--whether
that death arose from premeditated murder, or from sudden assault? Eh?--
hasn't it?"

"What, then?" asked the detective dubiously. "For I can't say that it has
--definitely. What do you conjecture did go before that?"

Mr. Killick thumped his stout stick on the floor.

"Robbery!" he exclaimed, triumphantly. "Robbery! The old man was robbed of
something! Probably--and there's nothing in these cases like considering
possibilities--he caught the thief in the act of robbing him, and lost his
life in defending his property. Now, supposing Levendale and Purvis were
interested--financially--in that property, and set their wits to work to
recover it, and in their efforts got into the hands of--shall we suppose a
gang?--and got trapped? Or," concluded Mr. Killick with great emphasis and
meaning, "for anything we know--murdered? What about that theory?"

"Possible!" muttered Ayscough. "Quite possible!"

"Consider this," continued the old solicitor. "Levendale is a well-known
man--a Member of Parliament--a familiar figure in the City, where he's
director of more than one company--the sort of man whom, in ordinary
circumstances, you'd be able to trace in a few hours. Now, you tell me
that half-a-dozen of your best men have been trying to track Levendale for
two days and nights, and can't get a trace of him! What's the inference? A
well-known man can't disappear in that way unless for some very grave
reason! For anything we know, Levendale--and Purvis with him--may be
safely trapped within half-a-mile of Praed Street--or, as I say, they may
have been quietly murdered. Of one thing I'm dead certain, anyway--if you
want to get at the bottom of this affair, you've got to find those two
men!"

"It would make a big difference if we had any idea of what it was that
Daniel Multenius had in that packet which he fetched from his bank on the
day of the murder," remarked Ayscough. "If there's been robbery, that may
have been the thief's object."

"That pre-supposes that the thief knew what was in the packet," said
Purdie. "Who is there that could know? We may take it that Levendale and
Purvis knew--but who else would?"

"Aye!--and how are we to find that out?" asked the New Scotland Yard man.
"If I only knew that much--"

But even at that moment--and not from any coincidence, but from the law of
probability to which Mr. Killick had appealed--information on that very
point was close at hand. A constable tapped at the door, and entering,
whispered a few words to the chief official, who having whispered back,
turned to the rest as the man went out of the room.

"Here's something likely!" he said. "There's a Mr. John Purvis, from
Devonshire, outside. Says he's the brother of the Stephen Purvis who's
name's been in the papers as having mysteriously disappeared, and wants
to tell the police something. He's coming in."

The men in the room turned with undisguised interest as the door opened
again, and a big, fresh-coloured countryman, well wrapped up in a stout
travelling coat, stepped into the room and took a sharp glance at its
occupants. He was evidently a well-to-do farmer, this, and quite at his
ease--but there was a certain natural anxiety in his manner as he turned
to the official, who sat at the desk in the centre of the group.

"You're aware of my business, sir?" he asked quietly.

"I understand you're the brother of the Stephen Purvis we're wanting to
find in connection with this Praed Street mystery," answered the official.
"You've read of that in the newspaper, no doubt, Mr. Purvis? Take a seat--
you want to tell us something? As a matter of fact, we're all discussing
the affair!"

The caller took the chair which Ayscough drew forward and sat down,
throwing open his heavy overcoat, and revealing a whipcord riding-suit of
light fawn beneath it.

"You'll see I came here in a hurry, gentlemen," he said, with a smile.
"I'd no thoughts of coming to London when I left my farm this morning, or
I'd have put London clothes on! The fact is--I farm at a very out-of-the-
way place between Moretonhampstead and Exeter, and I never see the daily
papers except when I drive into Exeter twice a week. Now when I got in
there this morning, I saw one or two London papers--last night's they
were--and read about this affair. And I read enough to know that I'd best
get here as quick as possible!--so I left all my business there and then,
and caught the very next express to Paddington. And here I am! And now--
have you heard anything of my brother Stephen more than what's in the
papers? I've seen today's, on the way up."

"Nothing!" answered the chief official. "Nothing at all! We've purposely
kept the newspapers informed, and what there is in the morning's papers is
the very latest. So--can you tell us anything?"

"I can tell you all I know myself," replied John Purvis, with a solemn
shake of his head. "And I should say it's a good deal to do with Stephen's
disappearance--in which, of course, there's some foul play! My opinion,
gentlemen, is that my brother's been murdered! That's about it!"

No one made any remark--but Mr. Killick uttered a little murmur of
comprehension, and nodded his head two or three times.

"Murdered, poor fellow, in my opinion," continued John Purvis. "And I'll
tell you why I think so. About November 8th or 9th--I can't be sure to a
day--I got a telegram from Stephen, sent off from Las Palmas, in the
Canary Islands, saying he'd be at Plymouth on the 15th, and asking me to
meet him there. So I went to Plymouth on the morning of the 15th. His
boat, the _Golconda_, came in at night, and we went to an hotel
together and stopped the night there. We hadn't met for some years, and of
course he'd a great deal to tell--but he'd one thing in particular--he'd
struck such a piece of luck as he'd never had in his life before!--and he
hadn't been one of the unlucky ones, either!"

"What was this particular piece of luck?" asked Mr. Killick.

John Purvis looked round as if to make sure of general attention.

"He'd come into possession, through a fortunate bit of trading, up country
in South Africa, of one of the finest diamonds ever discovered!" he
answered. "I know nothing about such things, but he said it was an orange-
yellow diamond that would weigh at least a hundred and twenty carats when
cut, and was worth, as far as he could reckon, some eighty to ninety
thousand pounds. Anyway, that was what he'd calculated he was going to get
for it here in London--and what he wanted to see me about, in addition to
telling me of his luck, was that he wanted to buy a real nice bit of
property in Devonshire, and settle down in the old country. But--I'm
afraid his luck's turned to a poor end! Gentlemen!--I'm certain my
brother's been murdered for that diamond!"

The police officials, as with one consent, glanced at Mr. Killick, and by
their looks seemed to invite his assistance. The old gentleman nodded and
turned to the caller.

"Now, Mr. Purvis," he said, "just let me ask you a few questions. Did your
brother tell you that this diamond was his own, sole property?"

"He did, sir!" answered the farmer. "He said it was all his own."

"Did he tell you where it was--what he had done with it?"

"Yes! He said that for some years he'd traded in small parcels of such
things with two men here in London--Multenius and Levendale--he knew both
of them. He'd sent the diamond on in advance to Multenius, by ordinary
registered post, rather than run the risk of carrying it himself."

"I gather from that last remark that your brother had let some other
person or persons know that he possessed this stone?" said Mr. Killick.
"Did he mention that? It's of importance."

"He mentioned no names--but he did say that one or two knew of his luck,
and he'd an idea that he'd been watched in Cape Town, and followed on the
_Golconda_," replied John Purvis. "He laughed about that, and said he
wasn't such a fool as to carry a thing like that on him."

"Did he say if he knew for a fact that the diamond was delivered to
Multenius?" asked Mr. Killick.

"Yes, he did. He found a telegram from Multenius at Las Palmas,
acknowledging the receipt. He mentioned to me that Multenius would put the
diamond in his bank, till he got to London himself."

Mr. Killick glanced at the detective--the detectives nodded.

"Very good," continued Mr. Killick. "Now then--: you'd doubtless talk a
good deal about this matter--did your brother tell you what was to be done
with the diamond? Had he a purchaser in view?"

"Yes, he said something about that," replied John Purvis. "He said that
Multenius and Levendale would make--or were making--what he called a
syndicate to buy it from him. They'd have it cut--over in Amsterdam, I
think it was. He reckoned he'd get quite eighty thousand from the
syndicate."

"He didn't mention any other names than those of Multenius and Levendale?"

"No--none!"

"Now, one more question. Where did your brother leave you--at Plymouth?"

"First thing next morning," said John Purvis. "We travelled together as
far as Exeter. He came on to Paddington--I went home to my farm. And I've
never heard of him since--till I read all this in the papers."

Mr. Killick got up and began to button his overcoat. He turned to the
police.

"Now you know what we wanted to know!" he said. "That diamond is at the
bottom of everything! Daniel Multenius was throttled for that diamond--
Parslett's death arose out of that diamond--everything's arisen from that
diamond! And, now that you police folks know all this--you know what to
do. You want the man, or men, who were in Daniel Multenius's shop about
five o'clock on that particular day, and who carried off that diamond. Mr.
Purvis!--are you staying in town?"

The farmer shook his head--but not in the negative.

"I'm not going out of London, till I know what's become of my brother!" he
said.

"Then come with me," said Mr. Killick. He said a word or two to the
police, and then, beckoning Lauriston and Purdie to follow with Purvis,
led the way out into the street. There he drew Purdie towards him. "Get a
taxi-cab," he whispered, "and we'll all go to see that American man you've
told me of--Guyler. And when we've seen him, you can take me to see Daniel
Multenius's granddaughter."



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


THE DEAD MAN'S PROPERTY

Old Daniel Multenius had been quietly laid to rest that afternoon, and at
the very moment in which Mr. Killick and his companions were driving away
from the police station to seek Stuyvesant Guyler at his hotel, Mr.
Penniket was closeted with Zillah and her cousin Melky Rubinstein in the
back-parlour of the shop in Praed Street--behind closed and locked doors
which they had no intention of opening to anybody. Now that the old man
was dead and buried, it was necessary to know how things stood with
respect to his will and his property, and, as Mr. Penniket had remarked as
they drove back from the cemetery, there was no reason why they should not
go into matters there and then. Zillah and Melky were the only relations--
and the only people concerned, said Mr. Penniket. Five minutes would put
them in possession of the really pertinent facts as regards the provisions
of the will--but there would be details to go into. And now they were all
three sitting round the table, and Mr. Penniket had drawn two papers from
his inner pocket--and Zillah regarding him almost listlessly, and Melky
with one of his quietly solemn expression. Each had a pretty good idea of
what was coming and each regarded the present occasion as no more than a
formality.

"This is the will," said Mr. Penniket, selecting and unfolding one of the
documents. "It was made about a year ago--by me. That is, I drafted it.
It's a short, a very short and practical will, drafted from precise
instructions given to me by my late client, your grandfather. I may as
well tell you in a few words what it amounts to. Everything that he left
is to be sold--this business as a going concern; all his shares; all his
house property. The whole estate is to be realized by the executors--your
two selves. And when that's done, you're to divide the lot--equally. One
half is yours, Miss Wildrose; Mr. Rubinstein, the other half is yours.
And," concluded Mr. Penniket, rubbing his hands, "you'll find you're very
fortunate--not to say wealthy--young people, and I congratulate you on
your good fortune! Now, perhaps, you'd like to read the will?"

Mr. Penniket laid the will on the table before the two cousins, and they
bent forward and read its legal phraseology. Zillah was the first to look
up and to speak.

"I never knew my grandfather had any house property," she said. "Did you,
Melky?"

"S'elp me, Zillah, if I ever knew what he had in that way!" answered
Melky. "He had his secrets and he could be close. No--I never knew of his
having anything but his business. But then, I might have known that he'd
invest his profits in some way or other."

The solicitor unfolded the other document.

"Here's a schedule, prepared by Mr. Multenius himself, and handed by him
to me not many weeks ago, of his property outside this business," he
remarked. "I'll go through the items. Shares in the Great Western Railway.
Shares in the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway. Government Stock.
Certain American Railway Stock. It's all particularized--and all gilt-
edged security. Now then, about his house property. There's a block of
flats at Hampstead. There are six houses at Highgate. There are three
villas in the Finchley Road. The rents of all these have been collected by
Messrs. Holder and Keeper, estate agents, and evidently paid by them
direct to your esteemed relative's account at his bank. And then--to wind
up--there is a small villa in Maida Vale, which he let furnished--you
never heard of that?"

"Never!" exclaimed Zillah, while Melky shook his head.

"There's a special note about that at the end of this schedule," said Mr.
Penniket. "In his own hand--like all the rest. This is what he says. 'N.
B. Molteno Lodge, Maida Vale--all the furniture, pictures, belongings in
this are mine--I have let it as a furnished residence at £12 a month, all
clear, for some years past. Let at present, on same terms, rent paid
quarterly, in advance, to two Chinese gentlemen, Mr. Chang Li and Mr. Chen
Li--good tenants."

Zillah uttered another sharp exclamation and sprang to her feet. She
walked across to an old-fashioned standup desk which stood in a corner of
the parlour, drew a bunch of keys from her pocket, and raised the lid.

"That explains something!" she said. "I looked into this desk the other
day--grandfather used to throw letters and papers in there sometimes,
during the day, and then put them away at night. Here's a cheque here that
puzzled me--I don't know anything about it. But--it'll be a quarter's rent
for that house. Look at the signatures!"

She laid a cheque before Melky and Mr. Penniket and stood by while they
looked at it. There was nothing remarkable about the cheque--made out to
Mr. Daniel Multenius on order for £36--except the two odd looking names at
its foot--_Chang Li: Chen Li_. Otherwise, it was just like all other
cheques--and it was on a local bank, in Edgware Road, and duly crossed.
But Melky instantly observed the date, and put one of his long fingers to
it.

"November 18th," he remarked. "The day he died. Did you notice that,
Zillah?"

"Yes," answered Zillah. "It must have come in by post and he's thrown it,
as he often did throw things, into that desk. Well--that's explained!
That'll be the quarter's rent, then, for this furnished house, Mr.
Penniket?"

"Evidently!" agreed the solicitor. "Of course, there's no need to give
notice to these two foreigners--yet. It'll take a little time to settle
the estate, and you can let them stay on awhile. I know who they are--your
grandfather mentioned them--two medical students, of University College.
They're all right. Well, now, that completes the schedule. As regards
administering the estate--"

A sudden gentle but firm knock at the side-door brought Zillah to her feet
again.

"I know that knock," she remarked. "It's Ayscough, the detective. I
suppose he may come in, now?"

A moment later Ayscough, looking very grave and full of news, had joined
the circle round the table. He shook his head as he glanced at Mr.
Penniket.

"I came on here to give you a bit of information," he said. "There's been
an important development this afternoon. You know the name of this Stephen
Purvis that's been mentioned as having been about here? Well, this
afternoon his brother turned up from Devonshire. He wanted to see us--to
tell us something. He thinks Stephen's been murdered!"

"On what grounds?" asked the solicitor.

"It turns out Stephen had sent Mr. Multenius a rare fine diamond--uncut--
from South Africa," answered Ayscough. "Worth every penny of eighty
thousand pounds!"

He was closely watching Zillah and Melky as he gave this piece of news,
and he was quick to see their utter astonishment. Zillah turned to the
solicitor; Melky slapped the table.

"That's been what the old man fetched from his bank that day!" he
exclaimed. "S'elp me if I ain't beginning to see light! Robbery--before
murder!"

"That's about it," agreed Ayscough. "But I'll tell you all that's come
out."

He went on to narrate the events of the afternoon, from the arrival of Mr.
Killick and his companions at the police station to the coming of John
Purvis, and his three listeners drank in every word with rising interest.
Mr. Penniket became graver and graver.

"Where's Mr. Killick now--and the rest of them?" he asked in the end.

"Gone to find that American chap--Guyler," answered Ayscough. "They did
think he might be likely--having experience of these South African
matters--to know something how Stephen Purvis may have been followed. You
see--you're bound to have some theory! It looks as if Stephen Purvis had
been tracked--for the sake of that diamond. The thieves probably tracked
it to this shop--most likely attacked Mr. Multenius for it. They'd most
likely been in here just before young Lauriston came in."

"But where does Stephen Purvis come in--then?" asked Mr. Penniket.

"Can't say yet--," replied Ayscough, doubtfully. "But--it may be that he--
and Levendale--got an idea who the thieves were, and went off after them,
and have got--well, trapped, or, as John Purvis suggests, murdered. It's
getting a nicer tangle than ever!"

"What's going to be done?" enquired the solicitor.

"Why!" said Ayscough. "At present, there's little more to be done than
what is being done! There's no end of publicity in the newspapers about
both Levendale and Purvis. Every newspaper reporter in London's on the
stretch for a thread of news of 'em! And we're getting posters and bills
out, all over, advertising for them--those bills'll be outside every
police-station in London--and over a good part of England--by tomorrow
noon. And, of course, we're all at work. But you see, we haven't so far,
the slightest clue as to the thieves! For there's no doubt, now, that it
was theft first, and the rest afterwards."

Mr. Penniket rose and gathered his papers together.

"I suppose," he remarked, "that neither of you ever heard of this diamond,
nor of Mr. Multenius having charge of it? No--just so. An atmosphere of
secrecy all over the transaction. Well--all I can say, Ayscough, is this
--you find Levendale. He's the man who knows."

When the solicitor had gone, Ayscough turned to Zillah.

"You never saw anything of any small box, packet, or anything of that
sort, lying about after your grandfather's death?" he asked. "I'm thinking
of what that diamond had been enclosed in, when he brought it from the
bank. My notion is that he was examining that diamond when he was
attacked, and in that case the box he'd taken it from would be lying
about, or thrown aside."

"You were in here yourself, before me," said Zillah.

"Quite so--but I never noticed anything," remarked Ayscough.

"Neither have I," replied Zillah. "And don't you think that whoever seized
that diamond would have the sense to snatch up anything connected with it!
I believe in what Mr. Penniket said just now--you find Levendale. If
there's a man living who knows who killed my grandfather, Levendale's that
man. You get him."

Mrs. Goldmark came in just then, to resume her task of keeping Zillah
company, and the detective left. Melky snatched up his overcoat and
followed him out, and in the side-passage laid a hand on his arm.

"Look here, Mr. Ayscough!" he whispered confidentially. "I want you!
There's something turned up in there, just now, that I ain't said a word
about to either Penniket or my cousin--but I will to you. Do you know
what, Mr. Ayscough--listen here;"--and he went on to tell the detective
the story of the furnished house in Maida Vale, its Chinese occupants, and
their cheque. "Dated that very day the old man was scragged!" exclaimed
Melky. "Now, Mr. Ayscough, supposing that one o' those Chinks called here
with that cheque that afternoon when Zillah was out, and found the old man
alone, and that diamond in his hand--eh?"

Ayscough started and gave a low, sharp whistle.

"Whew!" he said. "By George, that's an idea! Where's this house, do you
say? Molteno Lodge, Maida Vale? I know it--small detached house in a
garden. I say!--let's go and take a look round there!"

"It's what I was going to propose--and at once," responded Melky. "Come
on--but on the way, we'll pay a bit of a call. I want to ask a question of
Dr. Mirandolet."



CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


THE RAT

Ayscough and Melky kept silence, until they had exchanged the busy streets
for the quieter by-roads which lie behind the Paddington Canal--then, as
they turned up Portsdown Road, the detective tapped his companion's arm.

"What do you know about these two Chinese chaps that have this furnished
house of yours?" he asked. "Much?--or little?"

"We don't know nothing at all, Mr. Ayscough--me and my cousin Zillah,"
replied Melky. "Never heard of 'em! Never knew they were there! Never knew
the old man had furnished house to let in Maida Vale! He was close, the
old man was, about some things. That was one of 'em. However, Mr.
Penniket, he knew of this--but only recently. He says they're all right--
medical students at one of the hospitals--yes, University College. That's
in Gower Street, ain't it? The old man--he put in a note about there here
Molteno Lodge that these Chinks were good tenants. I know what he'd mean
by that!--paid their rent regular, in advance."

"Oh, I know they've always plenty of money, these chaps!" observed
Ayscough. "I've been wondering if I'd ever seen these two. But Lor' bless
you!--there's such a lot o' foreigners in this quarter, especially
Japanese and Siamese--law students and medical students and such like--
that you'd never notice a couple of Easterns particularly--and I've no
doubt they wear English clothes. Now, what do you want to see this doctor
for?" he asked as they halted by Dr. Mirandolet's door. "Anything to do
with the matter in hand?"

"You'll see in a minute," replied Melky as he rang the bell. "Just a
notion that occurred to me. And it has got to do with it."

Dr. Mirandolet was in, and received his visitors in a room which was half-
surgery and half-laboratory, and filled to the last corner with the
evidences and implements of his profession. He was wearing a white linen
operating jacket, and his dark face and black hair looked all the darker
and blacker because of it. Melky gazed at him with some awe as he dropped
into the chair which Mirandolet indicated and found the doctor's piercing
eyes on him.

"Just a question or two, mister!" he said, apologetically. "Me and Mr.
Ayscough there is doing a bit of looking into this mystery about Mr.
Multenius, and knowing as you was a big man in your way, it struck me
you'd tell me something. I was at that inquest on Parslett, you know,
mister."

Mirandolet nodded and waited, and Melky gained courage.

"Mister!" he said, suddenly bending forward and tapping the doctor's knee
in a confidential fashion. "I hear you say at that inquest as how you'd
lived in the East?"

"Yes!" replied Mirandolet. "Many years. India--Burmah--China!"

"You know these Easterns, mister, and their little way?" suggested Melky.
"Now, would it be too much--I don't want to get no professional
information, you know, if it ain't etiquette!--but would it be too much to
ask you if them folks is pretty good hands at poisoning?"

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