"Can't get a definite word out of 'em, yet," he said, as they went away. "There's two or three of 'em--big experts in--what do you call it--oh, yes, toxology--putting their heads together over the analysing business, and they won't say anything so far--they'll leave that to the inquest. But I gathered this much, Mr. Purdie, from the one I spoke to--this man Parslett was poisoned in some extremely clever fashion, and by some poison that's not generally known, which was administered to him probably half-an-hour before it took effect. What's that argue, sir, but that whoever gave him that poison is something of an expert? Deep game, Mr. Purdie, a very deep game indeed!--and now I don't think there's much need to be anxious about that young friend of yours. I'm certain, anyway, that the man who poisoned Parslett is the man who killed poor old Daniel Multenius. But--we shall see." Purdie parted from Ayscough outside the hospital and walked along to Mrs. Flitwick's house in Star Street. He met Melky Rubinstein emerging from the door; Melky immediately pulled out a telegram which he thrust into Purdie's hand. "Just come, mister!" exclaimed Melky. "There's a word for you in it--I was going to your hotel. Read what he says." Purdie unfolded the pink paper and read. "On the track all right understand Purdie is in town if he comes to Star Street explain all to him will wire again later in day." "Good!" said Purdie. He handed back the telegram and looked meditatively at Melky. "Are you busy this morning?" he asked. "Doing no business whatever, mister," lisped Melky, solemnly. "Not until this business is settled--not me!" "Come to the hotel with me," continued Purdie. "I want to talk to you about something." But when they reached the hotel, all thought of conversation was driven out of Purdie's mind for the moment. The hall-porter handed him a note, remarking that it had just come. Purdie's face flushed as he recognized the handwriting: he turned sharply away and tore open the envelope. Inside, on a half-sheet of notepaper, were a few lines--from the pretty governess at Mr. Spencer Levendale's. "Can you come here at once and ask for me? There is something seriously wrong: I am much troubled and have no one in London I can consult." With a hasty excuse to Melky, Purdie ran out of the hotel, and set off in quick response to the note. CHAPTER FOURTEEN THE PRIVATE LABORATORY