know Melky Rubinstein, and that the girl knew you as a customer. But, my
faith!--I wish you'd caught a glimpse of somebody leaving that shop! For
there's no doubt the old man met his death by violence."

"I know nothing of it," said Lauriston, "I saw no one."

Just then Melky came in. He glanced at the cheque and the bank-notes lying
on the table, and nodded to Lauriston as if he understood their presence.
Then he turned to Ayscough, almost anxiously.

"I say, Mr. Ayscough!" he said, deprecatingly. "You ain't going to be so
unkind as to mix up this here young fellow in what's happened. S'elp me,
Mr. Ayscough, I couldn't believe anything o' that sort about him, nohow--
nor would my cousin, Zillah, what you know well enough, neither; he's as
quiet as a lamb, Mr. Ayscough, is Mr. Lauriston--ain't I known him,
lodging here as he does, this many a month? I'll give my word for him,
anyway, Mr. Ayscough! And you police gentlemen know me. Don't you now, Mr.
Ayscough?"

"Very well indeed, my boy!" agreed the detective, heartily. "And I'll tell
you what--I shall have to trouble Mr. Lauriston to go round with me to the
station, just to give a formal account of what happened, and a bit of
explanation, you know--I'm satisfied myself about him, and so, no doubt,
will our people be, but you come with us, Melky, and say a word or two--
say you've known him for some time, d'ye see--it'll help."

"Anything to oblige a friend, Mr. Ayscough," said Melky. He motioned to
Lauriston to put his money in his pocket. "Glad to see your letters turned
up," he whispered as they went downstairs. "I say!--a word in your ear--
don't you tell these here police chaps any more than you need--I'll stand