"And—he went in the direction of the pawnshop?" said Purdie. "What on earth does it all mean? What did he mean by advertising for the book, when—"
Before he could say more, a knock came at the door, and the butler entered, bearing an open telegram in his hand. His face wore an expression of relief.
"Here's a wire from Mr. Levendale, Miss Bennett," he said. "It's addressed to me. He says, 'Shall be away from home, on business, for a few days. Let all go on as usual.' That's better, miss! But," continued Grayson, glancing at Purdie, "it's still odd—for do you see, sir, where that wire has been sent from? Spring Street—close by!"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CONFERENCE
Purdie was already sufficiently acquainted with the geography of the Paddington district to be aware of the significance of Grayson's remark. The Spring Street Post Office, at which Levendale's wire had been handed in, was only a few minutes' walk from the house. It stood, in fact, between Purdie's hotel and Sussex Square, and he had passed it on his way to Levendale's. It was certainly odd that a man who was within five minutes' walk of his own house should send a telegram there, when he had nothing to do but walk down one street and turn the corner of another to give his message in person.
"Sent off, do you see, sir, twenty minutes ago," observed the butler, pointing to some figures in the telegram form. "So—Mr. Levendale must have been close by—then!"
"Not necessarily," remarked Purdie. "He may have sent a messenger with that wire—perhaps he himself was catching a train at Paddington."
Grayson shook his head knowingly.
"There's a telegraph office on the platform there, sir," he answered.
"However—there it is, and I suppose there's no more to be done."