"Do you think that this Parslett affair has anything to do with the Multenius affair?" asked Purdie.
"Yes—undoubtedly!" answered the detective. "There's no doubt whatever in my own mind that the man who poisoned Parslett is the man who caused the old pawnbroker's death—none! I figure it in this way. Parslett somehow, caught a glimpse of that man leaving Multenius's shop—by the side-door, no doubt—and knew him—knew him very well, mind you! When Parslett heard of what had happened in Multenius's back-parlour, he kept his knowledge to himself, and went and blackmailed the man. The man gave him that fifty pounds in gold to keep his tongue quiet—no doubt arranging to give him more, later on—and at the same time he cleverly poisoned him. That's my theory, Mr. Purdie."
"Then—the only question now is—who's the man?" suggested Purdie.
"That's it, sir—who's the man?" agreed the detective. "One thing's quite certain—if my theory's correct. He's a clever man—and an expert in the use of poisons."
Purdie walked on a minute or two in silence, thinking.
"It's no use beating about the bush," he said at last. "Do you suspect Mr. Levendale—after all you've collected in information—and after what I told you about what his butler saw—that bottle and phial?"
"I think that Levendale's in it," replied the detective, cautiously. "I'm sure he's in it—in some fashion. Our people are making no end of enquiries about him this morning, in various quarters—there's half-a-dozen of our best men at work in the City and the West End,
