"Has he told about that diamond?—told the police?" demanded Levendale.
"He has!" repeated Purdie. "That's all known. Stephen Purvis—where is he?"
"Upstairs—asleep—dead tired out," said Levendale. "We both are! Night and day—day and night—I could fall on this floor and sleep—"
"You've been after that diamond?" suggested Purdie.
"That—and something else," said Levendale.
"Something else?" asked Purdie. "What then?"
"Eighty thousand pounds," answered Levendale. "Just that!"
Purdie stood staring at him. Then he suddenly put a question.
"Do you know who murdered that old man in Praed Street?" he demanded.
"That's what I'm after."
"No!" said Levendale, promptly. "I don't even know that he was murdered!" He, too, stared at his visitor for a moment; then "But I know more than a little about his being robbed," he added significantly.