"And a good one," answered Mrs. Goldmark. "He was one of our people--I saw his nose and his eyes. And I was astonished to see so poor-looking a man have a latch-key to so grand a mansion as that!--he was dressed in poor clothes, and looked dirty and mean." "A bearded dark man?" suggested Purdie. "Not at all," said Mrs. Goldmark. "A clean-shaved man--though dark he might be." Purdie looked at Melky and shook his head. "That's not Levendale!" he said, "Clean-shaven! Levendale's bearded and mustached--and I should say a bit vain of his beard. Um! you're dead certain, Mrs. Goldmark, about the other man?" "As that I tell you this," insisted Mrs. Goldmark. "I see him as plain as what I see him when he calls at my establishment and leaves his jewellery on my table. Oh, yes--I don't make no mistake, Mr. Purdie." Purdie looked again at Melky--this time with an enquiry in his glance. "Don't ask me, Mr. Purdie!" said Melky. "I don't know what to say. Sounds like as if these two went into Levendale's house. But what man would have a latch-key to that but Levendale himself? More mystery!--ain't I full of it already? Now if Mr. Ayscough hadn't gone away--" "Look here!" said Purdie, coming to a sudden decision, "I'm going round there. I want to know what this means--I'm going to know. You ladies had better go home. If you others like to come as far as the corner of Sussex Square, come. But I'm going to Levendale's house alone. I'll find something out." He said no more until, Zillah and Mrs. Goldmark having gone homeward, and he and his two companions having reached a side street leading into Sussex Square, he suddenly paused and demanded their attention! "I've particular reasons for wanting to go into that house alone," he said. "There's no danger--trust me. But--if I'm not out again in a quarter of an hour or so, you can come there and ask for me. My own impression is that I shall find Levendale there. And--as you're aware, Andie--I know Levendale." He left them standing in the shadow of a projecting portico and going up to Levendale's front door, rang the bell. There was no light in any of the windows; all appeared to be in dead stillness in the house; somewhere, far off in the interior, he heard the bell tinkle. And suddenly, as he stood waiting and listening, he heard a voice that sounded close by him and became aware that there was a small trap or grille in the door, behind which he made out a face. "Who is that?" whispered the voice. "John Purdie--wanting to see Mr. Levendale," he answered promptly. The door was just as promptly opened, and as Purdie stepped within was as quickly closed behind him. At the same instant the click of a switch heralded a flood of electric light, and he started to see a man standing at his side--a man who gave him a queer, deprecating smile, a man who was not and yet who was Levendale. "Gracious me!" exclaimed Purdie, "it isn't--"