The Orange-Yellow DiamondFletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
General
The Orange-Yellow Diamond
Fletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
Detective and mystery stories; Diamonds -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"S'elp me!" exclaimed Melky, "there ain't no other surprises, Zillah?
You ain't come round at this time o' night for nothing! What you got to
tell, Zillah?--another development?"
"Mrs. Goldmark has something to tell," answered Zillah. "We didn't know
what to do, and you didn't come, Melky--nobody come--and so we locked
the house and thought of Mr. Purdie. Mrs. Goldmark has seen somebody!"
"Who?" demanded Melky. "Somebody, now? What somebody?"
"The man that came to her restaurant," replied Zillah. "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.
Plain!"
"Well--and what was he doing?" asked Purdie, desirous of getting at
facts. "Did he come out of a house, or go into one, or--what?"
"I tell you," replied Mrs. Goldmark, "everything I tell you--all in
good time. It is like this. A taxicab comes up--approaching me. It
stops--by the pavement. Two men--they get out. Him first. Then another.
They pay the driver--then they walk on a little--just a few steps. They
go into a house. The other man--he lets them into that house. With a
latch-key. The door opens--shuts. They are inside. Then I go to Zillah
and tell her what I see. So!"
The three young men exchanged glances, and Purdie turned to the
informant.
"Mrs. Goldmark," he said, "did you know the man who opened the door?"
"Not from another!" replied Mrs. Goldmark. "A stranger to me!"
"Do you know Mr. Levendale--by sight?" asked Purdie.
"Often, since all this begins, I ask myself that question," said Mrs.
Goldmark, "him being, so to speak, a neighbour. No, that I do not, not
being able to say he was ever pointed out to me."
"Well, you can describe the man who pulled out his latch-key and opened
the door, anyhow," remarked Purdie. "You took a good look at him, I
suppose!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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