THEDAFFODILMYSTERY

EdgarWallace

CHAPTERIANOFFERREJECTED

"IamafraidIdon'tunderstandyou,Mr.Lyne."

Odette Rider looked gravely at the youngmanwho lolled against his opendesk.Her clear skinwas tintedwith the faintest pink, and therewas in thesober depths of those grey eyes of hers a lightwhichwould havewarned amanlesssatisfiedwithhisowngeniusandpowerofpersuasionthanThorntonLyne.

Hewasnot lookingatherface.Hiseyeswererunningapprovinglyoverherperfectfigure,notingthestraightnessoftheback, thefinepoiseofthehead,theshapelinessoftheslenderhands.

Hepushedbackhis longblackhairfromhisforeheadandsmiled.Itpleasedhim to believe that his face was cast in an intellectual mould, and that thesomewhatunhealthypastinessofhisskinmightbedescribedasthe"pallorofthought."

Presently he looked away from her through the big bay window whichoverlookedthecrowdedfloorofLyne'sStores.

Hehadhadthisofficebuiltintheentresolandthebigwindowshadbeenputinsothathemightatanytimeoverlookthemostimportantdepartmentwhichitwashisgoodfortunetocontrol.

Now and again, as he saw, a headwould be turned in his direction, and he

knewthattheattentionofallthegirlswasconcentrateduponthelittlescene,plainly visible from the floor below, in which an unwilling employee wasengaged.

She,too,wasconsciousofthefact,andherdiscomfortanddismayincreased.Shemadealittlemovementasiftogo,buthestoppedher.

"You don't understand,Odette," he said.His voicewas soft andmelodious,and held the hint of a caress. "Did you read my little book?" he askedsuddenly.

Shenodded.

"Yes,Iread—someofit,"shesaid,andthecolourdeepenedonherface.

Hechuckled.

"I suppose you thought it rather curious that a man in my position shouldbotherhisheadtowritepoetry,eh?"heasked."MostofitwaswrittenbeforeIcameintothisbeastlyshop,mydear—beforeIdevelopedintoatradesman!"

Shemadenoreply,andhelookedathercuriously.

"Whatdidyouthinkofthem?"heasked.

Herlipsweretrembling,andagainhemistookthesymptoms.

"Ithoughttheywereperfectlyhorrible,"shesaidinalowvoice."Horrible!"

Heraisedhiseyebrows.

"Howverymiddle-classyouare,MissRider!"hescoffed."ThoseverseshavebeenacclaimedbysomeofthebestcriticsinthecountryasreproducingallthebeautiesoftheoldHellenicpoetry."

Shewenttospeak,butstoppedherselfandstoodwithlipscompressed.

Thornton Lyne shrugged his shoulders and strode to the other end of hisluxuriouslyequippedoffice.

"Poetry,likecucumbers,isanacquiredtaste,"hesaidafterawhile."Youhavetobeeducateduptosomekindofliterature.Idaresaytherewillcomeatimewhen youwill be grateful that I have given you an opportunity ofmeetingbeautifulthoughtsdressedinbeautifullanguage."

Shelookedupatthis.

"MayIgonow,Mr.Lyne?"sheasked.

"Notyet,"herepliedcoolly."Yousaidjustnowyoudidn'tunderstandwhatIwastalkingabout. I'llput itplainer this time.You'reaverybeautifulgirl,as

youprobablyknow,andyouaredestined,inallprobability,tobethemateofaveryaveragesuburban-mindedperson,whowillgiveyoualifetantamounttoslavery. That is the life of themiddle-classwoman, as you probably know.Andwhywould you submit to this bondage?Simply because a person in ablack coat and a white collar has mumbled certain passages over you—passages which have neither meaning nor, to an intelligent person,significance. I would not take the trouble of going through such a foolishceremony,butIwouldtakeagreatdealoftroubletomakeyouhappy."

He walked towards her slowly and laid one hand upon her shoulder.Instinctivelysheshrankbackandhelaughed.

"Whatdoyousay?"

Sheswungroundonhim,hereyesblazingbuthervoiceundercontrol.

"Ihappentobeoneofthosefoolish,suburban-mindedpeople,"shesaid,"whogivesignificancetothosemumbledwordsyouwerespeakingabout.YetIambroad-mindedenoughtobelievethatthemarriageceremonywouldnotmakeyouanyhappierormoreunhappywhetheritwasperformedoromitted.But,whetheritweremarriageoranyotherkindofunion,Ishouldatleastrequireaman."

Hefrownedather.

"Whatdoyoumean?"heasked,andthesoftqualityofhisvoiceunderwentachange.

Hervoicewasfullofangrytearswhensheansweredhim.

"I should not want an erratic creature who puts horrid sentiments intoindifferentverse.Irepeat,Ishouldwantaman."

Hisfacewentlivid.

"Doyouknowwhomyouaretalkingto?"heasked,raisinghisvoice.

"IamtalkingtoThorntonLyne,"saidshe,breathingquickly,"theproprietorofLyne's Stores, the employer ofOdetteRiderwho draws three pounds everyweekfromhim."

Hewasbreathlesswithanger.

"Becareful!"hegasped."Becareful!"

"Iamspeakingtoamanwhosewholelifeisareproachtotheverynameofman!"shewentonspeakingrapidly."Amanwhoissincereinnothing,whoislivingonthebrainsandreputationofhisfather,andthemoneythathascomethroughthehardworkofbettermen.

"Youcan'tscareme,"shecriedscornfully,ashetookasteptowardsher."Oh,yes,IknowI'mgoingtoleaveyouremployment,andI'mleavingto-night!"

Themanwashurt,humiliated,almostcrushedbyherscorn.Thisshesuddenlyrealisedandherquickwoman'ssympathycheckedallfurtherbitterness.

"I'msorryI'vebeensounkind,"shesaidinamoregentletone."Butyouratherprovokedme,Mr.Lyne."

He was incapable of speech and could only shake his head and point withunsteadyfingertothedoor.

"Getout,"hewhispered.

OdetteRiderwalked out of the room, but themandid notmove. Presently,however,hecrossedtothewindowand,lookingdownuponthefloor,sawhertrim figuremove slowly through the crowd of customers and assistants andmountthethreestepswhichledtothechiefcashier'soffice.

"Youshallpayforthis,mygirl!"hemuttered.

Hewaswoundedbeyondforgiveness.Hewasarichman'ssonandhadlivedinasenseashelteredlife.Hehadbeendeniedtheadvantagewhichapublicschool would have brought to him and had gone to college surrounded bysycophants and poseurs as blatant as himself, and never once had the coldbreath of criticism been directed at him, except in what he was wont todescribeasthe"reptilePress."

Helickedhisdrylips,and,walkingtohisdesk,pressedabell.Afterashortwait—forhehadpurposelysenthissecretaryaway—agirlcamein.

"HasMr.Tarlingcome?"heasked.

"Yes,sir,he'sintheboard-room.Hehasbeenwaitingaquarterofanhour."

Henodded.

"Thankyou,"hesaid.

"ShallItellhim——"

"Iwillgotohimmyself,"saidLyne.

Hetookacigaretteoutofhisgoldcase,struckamatchandlitit.Hisnerveswereshaken,hishandsweretrembling,butthestorminhisheartwassoothingdownundertheinfluenceofthisgreatthought.Tarling!Whataninspiration!Tarling, with his reputation for ingenuity, his almost sublime uncannycleverness.Whatcouldbemorewonderfulthanthiscoincidence?

Hepassedwithquickstepsalongthecorridorwhichconnectedhisprivateden

withtheboard-room,andcameintothatspaciousapartmentwithoutstretchedhand.

Themanwhoturnedtogreethimmayhavebeentwenty-sevenorthirty-seven.Hewastall,butlitheratherthanbroad.Hisfacewasthecolourofmahogany,andtheblueeyesturnedtoLynewereunwinkingandexpressionless.ThatwasthefirstimpressionwhichLynereceived.

HetookLyne'shandinhis—itwasassoftasawoman's.AstheyshookhandsLynenoticedathirdfigureintheroom.Hewasbelowmiddleheightandsatintheshadowthrownbyawallpillar.Hetoorose,butbowedhishead.

"A Chinaman, eh?" said Lyne, looking at this unexpected apparition withcuriosity. "Oh, of course, Mr. Tarling, I had almost forgotten that you'vealmostcomestraightfromChina.Won'tyousitdown?"

He followed the other's example, threw himself into a chair and offered hiscigarettecase.

"Thework I amgoing toaskyou todo Iwilldiscuss later,"he said. "But Imustexplain,thatIwaspartlyattractedtoyoubythedescriptionIreadinoneofthenewspapersofhowyouhadrecoveredtheDuchessofHenley'sjewelsand partly by the stories I heard of you when I was in China. You're notattachedtoScotlandYard,Iunderstand?"

Tarlingshookhishead.

"No,"hesaidquietly."IwasregularlyattachedtothepoliceinShanghai,andIhad intended joining up with Scotland Yard; in fact, I came over for thatpurpose.Butseveralthingshappenedwhichmademeopenmyowndetectiveagency, the most important of which happenings, was that Scotland YardrefusedtogivemethefreehandIrequire!"

Theothernoddedquickly.

China rangwith theachievementsof JackOliverTarling,or, as theChinesecriminalworldhadnamedhiminparodyofhisname,"LiehJen,""TheHunterofMen."

Lynejudgedallpeoplebyhisownstandard,andsawinthisunemotionalmanapossibletool,andinallprobabilityalikelyaccomplice.

ThedetectiveforceinShanghaididcuriousthingsbyallaccounts,andwerenot tooscrupulousas towhether theykeptwithin thestrict letterof the law.Therewereevenrumoursthat"TheHunterofMen"wasnotabovetorturinghisprisoners,ifbysodoinghecouldelicitconfessionswhichcouldimplicatesomegreatercriminal.Lynedidnotandcouldnotknowallthelegendswhichhad grown around the name of "The Hunter" nor could he be expected in

reasontodifferentiatebetweenthetruthandthefalse.

"I pretty well know why you've sent for me," Tarling went on. He spokeslowlyandhadadecideddrawl."Yougavemearoughoutlineinyourletter.Yoususpectamemberofyourstaffofhavingconsistentlyrobbedthefirmformanyyears.AMr.Milburgh,yourchiefdepartmentalmanager."

Lynestoppedhimwithagestureandloweredhisvoice.

"Iwantyoutoforgetthatforalittlewhile,Mr.Tarling,"hesaid."Infact,IamgoingtointroduceyoutoMilburgh,andmaybe,Milburghcanhelpusinmyscheme. I do not say that Milburgh is honest, or that my suspicions wereunfounded.ButforthemomentIhaveamuchgreaterbusinessonhand,andyouwillobligeme ifyouforgetall the thingsIhavesaidaboutMilburgh. Iwillringforhimnow."

Hewalked to a long tablewhich ranhalf the lengthof the room, tookup atelephonewhichstoodatoneend,andspoketotheoperator.

"TellMr.Milburghtocometomeintheboard-room,please,"hesaid.

Thenhewentbacktohisvisitor.

"That matter of Milburgh can wait," he said. "I'm not so sure that I shallproceedanyfartherwithit.Didyoumakeinquiriesatall?Ifso,youhadbettertellmethegistofthembeforeMilburghcomes."

Tarlingtookasmallwhitecardfromhispocketandglancedatit.

"WhatsalaryareyoupayingMilburgh?"

"Ninehundredayear,"repliedLyne.

"Heislivingattherateoffivethousand,"saidTarling."Imayevendiscoverthathe's livingatamuch larger rate.Hehasahouseup the river,entertainsverylavishly——"

Buttheotherbrushedasidethereportimpatiently.

"No,letthatwait,"hecried."ItellyouIhavemuchmoreimportantbusiness.Milburghmaybeathief——"

"Didyousendforme,sir?"

Heturnedroundquickly.Thedoorhadopenedwithoutnoise,andamanstoodon the threshold of the room, an ingratiating smile on his face, his handstwining and intertwining ceaselessly as though he was washing them withinvisiblesoap.

CHAPTERIITHEHUNTERDECLINESHISQUARRY

"ThisisMr.Milburgh,"saidLyneawkwardly.

IfMr.Milburgh had heard the last words of his employer, his face did notbetraythefact.Hissmilewasset,andnotonlycurvedthe lipsbutfilled thelarge, lustreless eyes. Tarling gave him a rapid survey and drew his ownconclusions.Themanwasabornlackey,plumpofface,baldofhead,andbentofshoulder,asthoughhelivedinaperpetualgestureofabasement.

"Shutthedoor,Milburgh,andsitdown.ThisisMr.Tarling.Er—Mr.Tarlingis—er—adetective."

"Indeed,sir?"

MilburghbentadeferentialheadinthedirectionofTarling,andthedetective,watching forsomechange incolour, some twistof face—anyof thosesignswhichhadsooftenbetrayedtohimtheconvictedwrongdoer—lookedinvain.

"Adangerousman,"hethought.

Heglancedoutof thecornerofhiseye toseewhat impression themanhadmadeuponLingChu.To theordinaryeyeLingChu remainedan impassiveobserver.ButTarlingsawthatfaintcurloflip,analmostimperceptibletwitchofthenostrils,whichinvariablyshowedonthefaceofhisattendantwhenhe"smelt"acriminal.

"Mr.Tarlingisadetective,"repeatedLyne."HeisagentlemanIheardaboutwhen I was in China—you know I was in China for threemonths, when Imademytourroundtheworld?"heaskedTarling.

Tarlingnodded.

"Ohyes,Iknow,"hesaid."Youstayedat theBundHotel.Youspentagreatdealoftimeinthenativequarter,andyouhadratheranunpleasantexperienceastheresultofmakinganexperimentinopiumsmoking."

Lyne'sfacewentred,andthenhelaughed.

"Youknowmoreaboutme than Iknowaboutyou,Tarling,"he said,withanoteofasperityinhisvoice,andturnedagaintohissubordinate.

"Ihavereasontobelievethattherehasbeenmoneystoleninthisbusinessbyoneofmycashiers,"hesaid.

"Impossible, sir!" said the shockedMr.Milburgh. "Wholly impossible!Whocouldhavedoneit?Andhowcleverofyoutohavefounditout,sir!Ialways

say thatyouseewhatweoldonesoverlookeven though it's rightunderournoses!"

Mr.Lynesmiledcomplacently.

"Itwillinterestyoutoknow,Mr.Tarling,"hesaid,"thatImyselfhavesomeknowledgeofandacquaintancewiththecriminalclasses.Infact,thereisoneunfortunateprotégéofminewhomIhavetriedveryhardtoreformforthepastfour years,who is coming out of prison in a couple of days. I took up thiswork,"hesaidmodestly,"becauseIfeelitisthedutyofuswhoareinamorefortunate position, to help those who have not had a chance in the cruelcompetitionoftheworld."

Tarlingwasnotimpressed.

"Doyouknowthepersonwhohasbeenrobbingyou?"heasked.

"I have reason to believe it is a girlwhom I have summarily dismissed to-night,andwhomIwishyoutowatch."

Thedetectivenodded.

"Thisisratheraprimitivebusiness,"hesaidwiththefirstfainthintofasmilehehadshown."Haven'tyouyourownshopdetectivewhocouldtakethatjobinhand?Pettylarcenyishardlyinmyline.Iunderstoodthatthiswasbiggerwork——"

Hestopped,because itwasobviously impossible toexplain justwhyhehadthought asmuch, in thepresenceof themanwhose conduct, originally, hadbeenthesubjectofhisinquiries.

"To you itmay seem a smallmatter. Tome, it is very important," saidMr.Lyneprofoundly."Hereisagirl,highlyrespectedbyallhercompanionsandconsequently a great influence on their morals, who, as I have reason tobelieve,has steadilyandpersistently falsifiedmybooks, takingmoney fromthefirm,andatthesametimehassecuredthegoodwillofallwithwhomshehasbeenbroughtintocontact.Obviouslysheismoredangerousthananotherindividualwhosuccumbstoasuddentemptation.Itmaybenecessarytomakeanexampleofthisgirl,butIwantyouclearlytounderstand,Mr.Tarling,thatIhavenotsufficientevidencetoconvicther;otherwiseImightnothavecalledyouin."

"Youwantmetogettheevidence,eh?"saidTarlingcuriously.

"Whoisthelady,mayIventuretoask,sir?"

ItwasMilburghwhointerposedthequestion.

"MissRider,"repliedLyne.

"MissRider!"

Milburgh'sfacetookonalookofblanksurprise,ashegaspedthewords.

"MissRider—oh,no,impossible!"

"Whyimpossible?"demandedMr.Lynesharply.

"Well, sir, I meant——" stammered the manager, "it is so unlikely—she issuchanicegirl——"

ThorntonLyneshotasuspiciousglanceathim.

"YouhavenoparticularreasonforwishingtoshieldMissRider,haveyou?"heaskedcoldly.

"No,sir,notatall. Ibegofyounot to thinkthat,"appealedtheagitatedMr.Milburgh,"onlyitseemsso—extraordinary."

"All thingsareextraordinarythatareoutof thecommon,"snappedLyne."Itwouldbeextraordinaryifyouwereaccusedofstealing,Milburgh.Itwouldbeveryextraordinaryindeed,forexample,ifwediscoveredthatyouwerelivingafive-thousandpoundslifeonanine-hundredpoundssalary,eh?"

OnlyforaseconddidMilburghlosehisself-possession.Thehandthatwenttohismouthshook,andTarling,whoseeyeshadneverleft theman'sface,sawthetremendouseffortwhichhewasmakingtorecoverhisequanimity.

"Yes,sir,thatwouldbeextraordinary,"saidMilburghsteadily.

Lynehadlashedhimselfagainintotheoldfury,andifhisvitriolictonguewasdirectedatMilburgh,histhoughtswerecentreduponthatproudandscornfulfacewhichhadlookeddownuponhiminhisoffice.

"Itwouldbeextraordinaryifyouweresenttopenalservitudeastheresultofmydiscoverythatyouhadbeenrobbingthefirmforyears,"hegrowled,"andI suppose everybody else in the firm would say the same as you—howextraordinary!"

"Idaresaytheywould,sir,"saidMr.Milburgh,hisoldsmileback,thetwinkleagain returning to his eyes, and his hands rubbing together in ceaselessablutions. "Itwould sound extraordinary, and itwouldbe extraordinary, andnobodyherewouldbemoresurprisedthantheunfortunatevictim—ha!ha!"

"Perhaps not," said Lyne coldly. "Only I want to say a few words in yourpresence,and Iwould likeyou togive themeveryattention.Youhavebeencomplaining to me for a month past," he said speaking with deliberation,"aboutsmallsumsofmoneybeingmissingfromthecashier'soffice."

Itwasaboldthingtosay,andinmanywaysarashthing.Hewasdependent

forthesuccessofhishastily-formedplan,notonlyuponMilburgh'sguilt,butupon Milburgh's willingness to confess his guilt. If the manager agreed tostand sponsor to this lie, he admitted his own peculations, and Tarling, towhomtheturnoftheconversationhadatfirstbeenunintelligible,begandimlytoseethedriftitwastaking.

"I have complained that sums of money have been missing for the pastmonth?"repeatedMilburghdully.

Thesmilehadgonefromhislipsandeyes.Hisfacewashaggard—hewasamanatbay.

"ThatiswhatIsaid,"saidLynewatchinghim."Isn'tthatthefact?"

Therewasalongpause,andpresentlyMilburghnodded.

"Thatisthefact,sir,"hesaidinalowvoice.

"AndyouhavetoldmethatyoususpectedMissRiderofdefalcations?"

Againthepauseandagainthemannodded.

"Doyouhear?"askedLynetriumphantly.

"Ihear," saidTarlingquietly. "Nowwhatdoyouwishme todo? Isn't thisamatterforthepolice?Imeantheregularpolice."

Lynefrowned.

"Thecasehastobepreparedfirst,"hesaid."Iwillgiveyoufullparticularsastothegirl'saddressandherhabits,anditwillbeyourbusinesstocollectsuchinformationaswillenableustoputthecaseinthehandsofScotlandYard."

"Isee,"saidTarlingandsmiledagain.Thenheshookhishead."I'mafraidIcan'tcomeintothiscase,Mr.Lyne."

"Can'tcomein?"saidLyneinastonishment."Whynot?"

"Becauseit'snotmykindofjob,"saidTarling."ThefirsttimeImetyouIhada feeling that you were leading me to one of the biggest cases I had everundertaken.Itshowsyouhowone's instinctscanleadoneastray,"hesmiledagain,andpickeduphishat.

"Whatdoyoumean?You'regoingtothrowupavaluableclient?"

"I don't know how valuable you're likely to be," said Tarling, "but at thepresentmomentthesignsarenotparticularlyencouraging.ItellyouIdonotwishtobeassociatedwiththiscase,Mr.Lyne,andIthinktherethemattercanend."

"Youdon'tthinkit'sworthwhile,eh?"sneeredLyne."YetwhenItellyouthat

Iampreparedtogiveyouafeeoffivehundredguineas——"

"Ifyougavemea feeof five thousandguineas,or fifty thousandguineas, Ishould still decline to be associated with thismatter," said Tarling, and hiswordshadthemetallicqualitywhichprecludesargument.

"Atanyrate,Iamentitledtoknowwhyyouwillnottakeupthiscase.Doyouknowthegirl?"askedLyneloudly.

"I have nevermet the lady and probably never shall," said Tarling. "I onlyknowthatIwillnotbeconcernedwithwhatiscalledintheUnitedStatesofAmericaa'frameup.'"

"Frameup?"repeatedtheother.

"Aframeup.Idaresayyouknowwhatitmeans—Iwillputthemattermoreplainlyandwithinyourunderstanding.Forsomereasonorotheryouhaveasuddengrudgeagainstamemberofyourstaff.Ireadyourface,Mr.Lyne,andtheweaknessofyourchinandtheappetiteofyourmouthsuggesttomethatyouarenotoverscrupulouswiththewomenwhoareinyourcharge.Iguessratherthanknowthatyouhavebeenturneddownwithadull,sickeningthudby a decent girl, and in your mortification you are attempting to invent achargewhichhasnosubstanceandnofoundation.

"Mr. Milburgh," he turned to the other, and again Mr. Milburgh ceased tosmile, "has his own reasons for complying with your wishes. He is yoursubordinate, and moreover, the side threat of penal servitude for him if herefuseshascarriedsomeweight."

ThorntonLyne'sfacewasdistortedwithfury.

"Iwilltakecarethatyourbehaviouriswidelyadvertised,"hesaid."Youhavebroughtamostmonstrouschargeagainstme,andIshallproceedagainstyouforslander.ThetruthisthatyouarenotequaltothejobIintendedgivingyouandyouarefindinganexcuseforgettingout."

"Thetruthis,"repliedTarling,bitingofftheendofacigarhehadtakenfromhis pocket, "thatmy reputation is too good to be risked in associatingwithsuchadirtybusiness asyours. I hate tobe rude, and Ihate just asmuch tothrowawaygoodmoney.ButIcan'ttakegoodmoneyforbadwork,Mr.Lyne,and if you will be advised by me, you will drop this stupid scheme forvengeancewhichyourhurtvanityhassuggested—it is theclumsiestkindofframeup thatwasever invented—andalsoyouwillgoandapologise to theyounglady,whom,Ihavenodoubt,youhavegrosslyinsulted."

He beckoned to his Chinese satellite and walked leisurely to the door.Incoherentwith rage, shaking in every limbwith aweakman's senseof his

own impotence, Lyne watched him until the door was half-closed, then,springingforwardwithastrangledcry,hewrenchedthedooropenandleaptatthedetective.

Twohandsgrippedhisarmandliftinghimbodilybackintotheroom,pushedhim down into a chair. A not unkindly face blinked down at him, a facerelievedfromuttersolemnitybythetinylaughterlinesabouttheeyes.

"Mr. Lyne," said the mocking voice of Tarling, "you are setting an awfulexampletothecriminalclasses.Itisagoodjobyourconvictfriendisingaol."

Withoutanotherwordhelefttheroom.

CHAPTERIIITHEMANWHOLOVEDLYNE

TwodayslaterThorntonLynesatinhisbiglimousinewhichwasdrawnupontheedgeofWandsworthCommon,facingthegatesofthegaol.

Poetandposeurhewas,thestrangestcombinationeverseeninman.

Thornton Lyne was a store-keeper, a Bachelor of Arts, the winner of theMangate Science Prize and the author of a slim volume.The quality of thepoetry therein was not very great—but it was undoubtedly a slim volumeprintedinqueerlyornatetypewithold-fashionedessesandwidemargins.Hewas a store-keeper because store-keeping supplied him with caviare andpeaches, a handsome little two-seater, a six-cylinder limousine for stateoccasions,acountryhouseandaflatintown,thedecorationsofwhichrantoafigurewhichwouldhavepurchasedmanystoresofhumblerpretensionsthanLyne'sServeFirstEmporium.

TotheelderLyne,JosephEmanuelofthatfamily,theinceptionandprosperityofLyne'sServeFirstEmporiumwasdue.Hehaddevisedasalesystemwhichensuredeverycustomerbeingattendedtothemomentheorsheenteredoneofthemanydepartmentswhichmadeupthesplendidwholeoftheemporium.Itwas a systembasedupon the age-old principle of keeping efficient reserveswithincall.

ThorntonLynesucceededtothebusinessatamomentwhenhisslimvolumehadplacedhiminthecategoryofthegloriouslymisunderstood.Becausesuchreviewers as had noticed his book wrote of his "poetry" using invertedcommas to advertise their scorn, and because nobody bought the volumedespite its slimness, hebecame the idolofmenandwomenwhoalsowrote

thatwhichnobodyread,andinconsequencedevelopedsoulswiththeceleritythatasmallboydevelopsstomachache.

For nothing in the wide world was more certain to the gloriouslymisunderstoodthanthis:thetestofexcellenceisscorn.ThorntonLynemightin different circumstances have drifted upward to sets even moremisunderstood—yea, even to a set superior tomarriage and soap and cleanshirtsandfreshair—onlyhisfatherdiedofasurfeit,andThorntonbecametheLyneofLyne'sServeFirst.

HisfirstinclinationwastosellthepropertyandretiretoavillainFlorenceorCapri. Then the absurdity, the rich humour of an idea, struck him. He, ascholar,agentlemanandamisunderstoodpoet,sittingintheofficeofastore,appealedtohim.Somebodyremarkedinhishearingthattheideawas"rich."He sawhimself in "character" and thepart appealed tohim.Toeverybody'ssurprise he took up his father's work, whichmeant that he signed cheques,collectedprofitsandleftthemanagementtotheSoultsandtheNeyswhomoldNapoleonLynehadrelieduponinthefoundationofhisempire.

Thornton wrote an address to his 3,000 employees—which address wasprintedondecidedantiquepaperinqueerlyornatetypewithwidemargins.Hequoted Seneca, Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius and the "Iliad." The "address"securedbetterandlongerreviewsinthenewspapersthanhadhisbook.

Hehadfoundlifeapleasantexperience—allthemorepiquantbecauseoftheamazementofinnumerableecstaticfriendswhoclaspedtheirhandsandaskedawefully:"Howcanyou—amanofyourtemperament...!"

Lifemighthavegoneonbeingpleasantifeverymanandwomanhehadmethadlethimhavehisownway.OnlytherewereatleasttwopeoplewithwhomThorntonLyne'smillionscarriednoweight.

Itwaswarminhis limousine,whichwaselectricallyheated.Butoutside,onthat rawAprilmorning, itwasbitterlycold,and theshivering littlegroupofwomenwho stood at a respectful distance from the prison gates, drew theirshawls tightly about themas errant flakes of snowwhirled across the open.Thecommonwascoveredwithawhitepowder,andtheearlyflowerslookedsupremelymiserableintheirwintrysetting.

Theprisonclockstruckeight,andawicket-gateopened.Amanslouchedout,his jacket buttonedup to his neck, his cappulledover his eyes.At sight ofhim,Lynedroppedthenewspaperhehadbeenreading,openedthedoorofthecarandjumpedout,walkingtowardsthereleasedprisoner.

"Well,Sam,"hesaid,genially"youdidn'texpectme?"

Theman stopped as if hehadbeen shot, and stood staring at the fur-coated

figure.Then:

"Oh, Mr. Lyne," he said brokenly. "Oh, guv'nor!" he choked, and tearsstreameddownhisface,andhegrippedtheoutstretchedhandinbothofhis,unabletospeak.

"You didn't think I'd desert you, Sam, eh?" said Mr. Lyne, all aglow withconsciousnessofhisvirtue.

"I thought you'd given me up, sir," said Sam Stay huskily. "You're agentleman,youare,sir,andIoughttobeashamedofmyself!"

"Nonsense,nonsense,Sam!Jumpintothecar,mylad.Goalong.Peoplewillthinkyou'reamillionaire."

Themangulped,grinnedsheepishly,openedthedoorandsteppedin,andsankwithasighofcomfortintotheluxuriousdepthsofthebigbrowncushions.

"Gawd!Tothinkthattherearemenlikeyouintheworld,sir!Why,Ibelieveinangels,Ido!"

"NonsenseSam.Nowyoucomealongtomyflat,andI'mgoingtogiveyouagoodbreakfastandstartyoufairagain."

"I'mgoingtotryandkeepstraight,sir,Iams'helpme!"

ItmaybesaidintruththatMr.LynedidnotcareverymuchwhetherSamkeptstraightornot.HemightindeedhavebeenverymuchdisappointedifSamhadkepttothestraightandnarrowpath.He"kept"Samasmenkeepchickensandprize cows, and he "collected" Sam as othermen collect stamps and china.Samwashis luxuryandhispose. Inhisclubheboastedofhisacquaintancewiththisrepresentativeofthecriminalclasses—forSamwasanexpertburglarandknewnoother trade—andSam'sadoration forhimwasoneofhismostexhilaratingexperiences.

And that adorationwasgenuine.Samwouldhave laiddownhis life for thepale-facedmanwith the loosemouth.Hewouldhavesufferedhimself tobetorn limb from limb if in his agony he could have brought ease oradvancementtothemanwho,tohim,wasonewiththegods.

Originally, Thornton Lyne had found Samwhilst that artistwas engaged inburglingthehouseofhisfuturebenefactor.ItwasawhimofLyne'stogivethecriminal a good breakfast and to evince an interest in his future.Twice hadSamgonedownforashort term,andoncefora longtermofimprisonment,and on each occasion Thornton Lyne had made a parade of collecting thereturnedwanderer,drivinghimhome,givinghimbreakfastandagreatdealofworldly and unnecessary advice, and launching him forth again upon theworldwithtenpounds—asumjustsufficienttobuySamanewkitofburglar's

tools.

NeverbeforehadSamshownsuchgratitude;andneverbeforehadThorntonLyne been less disinterested in his attentions. Therewas a hot bath—whichSamStay could have dispensedwith, butwhich, out of sheer politeness, hewas compelled to accept, a warm and luxurious breakfast; a new suit ofclothes,withnottwo,butfour,five-poundnotesinthepocket.

Afterbreakfast,Lynehadhistalk.

"It'snogood,sir,"saidtheburglar,shakinghishead."I'vetriedeverythingtogetanhonestliving,butsomehowIcan'tgetoninthestraightlife.IdroveataxicabforthreemonthsafterIcameout,tillabusy-fellowtumbledtomenothavingalicense,andbroughtmeupunderthePreventionofCrimesAct.It'snousemyaskingyou togivemea job inyour shop, sir,because I couldn'tstick it, I couldn't really! I'mused to theopen air life; I like beingmyownmaster.I'moneofthosefellowsyou'vereadabout—thewordbeginswithA."

"Adventurers?"saidLynewithalittlelaugh."Yes,Ithinkyouare,Sam,andI'mgoingtogiveyouanadventureafteryourownheart."

Andthenhebegantotellataleofbaseingratitude—ofagirlhehadhelped,had indeed saved from starvation andwho had betrayed him at every turn.ThorntonLynewas a poet.Hewas also a picturesque liar. The lie came aseasilyasthetruth,andeasier,sincetherewasacertaincrudenessabouttruthwhichrevoltedhisartisticsoul.AndasthetalewasunfoldedofOdetteRider'sperfidy,Sam'seyesnarrowed.Therewasnothingtoobadforsuchacreatureasthis.Shewaswhollyundeservingofsympathy.

PresentlyThorntonLynestopped,hiseyesfixedontheothertonotetheeffect.

"Showme,"saidSam,hisvoicetrembling."Showmeawayofgettingevenwithher,sir,andI'llgothroughhelltodoit!"

"That's the kindof stuff I like to hear," saidLyne, andpouredout from thelongbottlewhichstoodonthecoffee-trayastifftotofSam'sfavouritebrandy."Now,I'llgiveyoumyidea."

Fortherestofthemorningthetwomensatalmostheadtohead,plottingwoefor the girl, whose chief offence had been against the dignity of ThorntonLyne,andwhosevirtuehadincitedthehateofthatviciousman.

CHAPTERIVMURDER

JackTarlinglaystretcheduponhishardbed,alongcigarette-holderbetweenhisteeth,abookonChinesemetaphysicsbalancedonhischest,atpeacewiththeworld.Thehourwaseighto'clock,anditwasthedaythatSamStayhadbeenreleasedfromgaol.

IthadbeenabusydayforTarling, forhewasengaged inabankfraudcasewhich would have occupied the whole of his time had he not had a littleprivatebusinesstoattendto.Thisprivatematterwaswhollyunprofitable,buthiscuriosityhadbeenpiqued.

He lay the book flat on his chest as the soft click of the opening doorannounced the coming of his retainer. The impassive Ling Chu camenoiselesslyintotheroom,carryingatray,whichheplaceduponalowtablebythe sideofhismaster'sbed.TheChinamanworeablue silkpyjamasuit—afactwhichTarlingnoticed.

"Youarenotgoingoutto-nightthen,LingChu?"

"No,LiehJen,"saidtheman.

Theybothspokeinthesoft,sibilantpatoisofShantung.

"YouhavebeentotheManwiththeCunningFace?"

Foranswertheothertookanenvelopefromaninsidepocketandlaiditintheother'shand.Tarlingglancedattheaddress.

"Sothisiswheretheyoungladylives,eh?MissOdetteRider,27,CarrymoreBuildings,EdgwareRoad."

"Itisaclanhouse,wheremanypeoplelive,"saidLingChu."Imyselfwent,inyour honourable service, and saw people coming in and going outinterminably,andneverthesamepeopledidIseetwice."

"ItiswhattheycallinEnglisha'flatbuilding,'Ling,"saidTarlingwithalittlesmile."WhatdidtheManwiththeCunningFacesaytomyletter?"

"Master,hesaidnothing.Hejustreadandread,andthenhemadeafacelikethis."LinggaveanimitationofMr.Milburgh'ssmile."Andthenhewroteasyousee."

Tarlingnodded.Hestared foramoment intovacancy, thenhe turnedonhiselbowandliftedthecupofteawhichhisservanthadbroughthim.

"WhatofFace-White-and-WeakMan,Ling?"heaskedinthevernacular."Yousawhim?"

"I saw him, master," said the Chinaman gravely. "He is a man without aheaven."

AgainTarlingnodded.TheChineseusetheword"heaven"insteadof"God,"andhefeltthatLinghadveryaccuratelysizedupMr.ThorntonLyne'slackofspiritualqualities.

Hefinishedthetea,andswunghislegsovertheedgeofthebed.

"Ling," he said, "this place is very dull and sad. I do not think I shall livehere."

"WillthemastergobacktoShanghai?"askedtheother,withoutanydisplayofemotion.

"Ithinkso,"noddedTarling."Atanyrate,thisplaceistoodull.Justmiserablelittletaking-money-easilycases,andwife-husband-lovercasesandmysoulissick."

"Thesearesmallmatters,"saidLingphilosophically."ButTheMaster"—thistime he spoke of the great Master, Confucius—"has said that all greatnesscomesfromsmall things,andperhapssomesmall-piecemanwillcutoff theheadofsomebig-pieceman,andthentheywillcallyoutofindthemurderer."

Tarlinglaughed.

"You'reanoptimist,Ling,"hesaid."No,Idon't thinkthey'llcallmeinforamurder.Theydon'tcallinprivatedetectivesinthiscountry."

Lingshookhishead.

"But themastermust findmurderers, or hewill no longer be Lieh Jen, theHunterofMen."

"You're a bloodthirsty soul, Ling," said Tarling, this time in English,whichLing imperfectly understood, despite the sustained efforts of eminentmissionaryschools."NowI'llgoout,"hesaidwithsuddenresolution."Iamgoingtocalluponthesmall-piecewomanwhomWhite-Facedesires."

"MayIcomewithyou?"askedLing.

Tarlinghesitated.

"Yes,youmaycome,"hesaid,"butyoumusttrailme."

CarrymoreMansions is a great block of buildings sandwiched between twomore aristocratic andmore expensive blocks of flats in the Edgware Road.Thegroundfloor isgivenup to lock-upshopswhichperhapscheapened thebuilding, but still it was a sufficiently exclusive habitation for the rents, asTarling guessed, to be a little too high for a shop assistant, unless shewerelivingwithherfamily.Theexplanation,ashewastodiscover,layinthefactthatthereweresomeveryundesirablebasementflatswhichwereletatalower

rental.

He found himself standing outside the polished mahogany door of one ofthese, wondering exactly what excuse he was going to give to the girl formakingacallsolateatnight.Andthatsheneededsomeexplanationwasclearfromthefranksuspicionwhichshowedinherfacewhensheopenedthedoortohim.

"Yes,IamMissRider,"shesaid.

"CanIseeyouforafewmoments?"

"I'msorry,"shesaid,shakingherhead,"butIamaloneintheflat,soIcan'taskyoutocomein."

Thiswasabadbeginning.

"Is itnotpossible foryou tocomeout?"heaskedanxiously,and inspiteofherself,shesmiled.

"I'mafraidit'squiteimpossibleformetogooutwithsomebodyIhavenevermetbefore,"shesaid,withjustatraceofamusementinhereyes.

"I recognise the difficulty," laughed Tailing. "Here is one of my cards. I'mafraidIamnotveryfamousinthiscountry,soyouwillnotknowmyname."

Shetookthecardandreadit.

"Aprivatedetective?"shesaid ina troubledvoice."Whohassentyou?NotMr.——"

"NotMr.Lyne,"hesaid.

Shehesitatedamoment,thenthrewopenthedoorwider.

"Youmustcomein.Wecantalkhereinthehall.DoIunderstandMr.Lynehasnotsentyou?"

"Mr.LynewasveryanxiousthatIshouldcome,"hesaid."Iambetrayinghisconfidence,butIdonotthinkthathehasanyclaimuponmyloyalty.Idon'tknowwhyI'vebotheredyouatall,exceptthatIfeelthatyououghttobeputonyourguard."

"Againstwhat?"sheasked.

"Against themachinations of a gentleman towhomyouhavebeen——"hehesitatedforaword.

"Veryoffensive,"shefinishedforhim.

"Idon'tknowhowoffensiveyou'vebeen,"helaughed,"butIgatheryouhave

annoyedMr.Lyneforsomereasonorother,andthatheisdeterminedtoannoyyou. I donot askyour confidence in this respect, because I realise that youwouldhardlyliketotellme.ButwhatIwanttotellyouisthis,thatMr.Lyneisprobablyframingupachargeagainstyou—thatistosay,inventingachargeoftheft."

"Of theft?" she cried in indignant amazement. "Against me? Of theft? It'simpossiblethathecouldbesowicked!"

"It's not impossible that anybody could be wicked," said Tarling of theimpassivefaceandthelaughingeyes."AllthatIknowisthatheeveninducedMr.MilburghtosaythatcomplaintshavebeenmadebyMilburghconcerningtheftsofmoneyfromyourdepartment."

"That'sabsolutely impossible!" shecriedemphatically. "Mr.Milburghwouldneversaysuchathing.Absolutelyimpossible!"

"Mr.Milburghdidn'twanttosaysuchathing,Igivehimcreditforthat,"saidTarlingslowly,andthengavethegistoftheargument,omittinganyreference,directorindirect,tothesuspicionwhichsurroundedMilburgh.

"Soyou see," he said in conclusion, "that youought to be onyour guard. Isuggest to you that you see a solicitor andput thematter in his hands.Youneed not move against Mr. Lyne, but it would strengthen your positiontremendously if you had already detailed the scheme to some person inauthority."

"Thank you very, verymuch,Mr.Tarling," she saidwarmly, and looked upintohisfacewithasmilesosweet,sopathetic,sohelpless,thatTarling'sheartmeltedtowardsher.

"Andifyoudon'twantasolicitor,"hesaid,"youcandependuponme.Iwillhelpyouifanytroublearises."

"Youdon'tknowhowgrateful Iamtoyou,Mr.Tarling, Ididn't receiveyouverygraciously!"

"If you will forgive my saying so, you would have been a fool to havereceivedmeinanyotherway,"hesaid.

Sheheldoutbothhandstohim:hetookthem,andthereweretearsinhereyes.Presentlyshecomposedherself,andledhimintoherlittledrawing-room.

"Ofcourse,I'velostmyjob,"shelaughed,"butI'vehadseveraloffers,oneofwhichIshallaccept.Iamgoingtohavetherestoftheweektomyselfandtotakeaholiday."

Tarlingstoppedherwithagesture.Hisearsweresuperhumanlysensitive.

"Areyouexpectingavisitor?"heaskedsoftly.

"No,"saidthegirlinsurprise.

"Doyousharethisflatwithsomebody?"

"Ihaveawomanwhosleepshere,"shesaid."Sheisoutfortheevening."

"Hassheakey?"

Thegirlshookherhead.

Theman rose,andOdettemarvelledhowoneso tallcouldmovesoswiftly,andwithout somuchasa sound,across theuncarpetedhallway.He reachedthe door, turned the knobof the patent lock and jerked it open.Amanwasstanding on themat and he jumped back at the unexpectedness of Tarling'sappearance.Thestrangerwasacadaverous-lookingman,inabrand-newsuitof clothes, evidently ready-made, but he still wore on his face the curiousyellowtingewhichisthespecialmarkoftherecentlyliberatedgaol-bird.

"Begpardon,"hestammered,"butisthisNo.87?"

Tarlingshotoutahand,andgrippinghimbythecoat,drewthehelplessmantowardshim.

"Hullo,whatareyoutryingtodo?What'sthisyouhave?"

He wrenched something from the man's hand. It was not a key but a flat-toothedinstrumentofstrangeconstruction.

"Comein,"saidTarling,andjerkedhisprisonerintothehall.

A swift turning back of his prisoner's coat pinioned him, and then withdexterousness and in silence he proceeded to search. From two pockets hetookadozenjewelledrings,eachbearingthetinytagofLyne'sStore.

"Hullo!" saidTarling sarcastically, "are these intended as a loving gift fromMr.LynetoMissRider?"

Themanwas speechless with rage. If looks could kill, Tarlingwould havedied.

"Aclumsytrick,"saidTarling,shakinghisheadmournfully."Nowgobacktoyourboss,Mr.ThorntonLyne,andtellhimthatIamashamedofanintelligentmanadoptingsocrudeamethod,"andwithakickhedismissedSamStaytotheouterdarkness.

The girl,who had been a frightened spectator of the scene, turned her eyesimploringlyuponthedetective.

"Whatdoes itmean?" shepleaded. "I feel so frightened.Whatdid thatman

want?"

"Youneednotbeafraidofthatman,oranyotherman,"saidTarlingbriskly."I'msorryyouwerescared."

He succeeded in calming her by the time her servant had returned and thentookhisleave.

"Remember,Ihavegivenyoumytelephonenumberandyouwillcallmeupifthereisanytrouble.Particularly,"hesaidemphatically,"ifthereisanytroubleto-morrow."

Buttherewasnotroubleonthefollowingday,thoughatthreeo'clockintheafternoonshecalledhimup.

"Iamgoingawaytostayinthecountry,"shesaid."Igotscaredlastnight."

"Come and see me when you get back," said Tarling, who had found itdifficulttodismissthegirlfromhismind."IamgoingtoseeLyneto-morrow.By the way, the person who called last night is a protégé ofMr. ThorntonLyne's,amanwhoisdevotedtohimbodyandsoul,andhe'sthefellowwe'vegottolookafter.ByJove!Italmostgivesmeaninterestinlife!"

Heheardthefaintlaughofthegirl.

"Must I be butchered to make a detective's holiday?" she mocked, and hegrinnedsympathetically.

"Anyway,I'llseeLyneto-morrow,"hesaid.

TheinterviewwhichJackTarlingprojectedwasdestinednevertotakeplace.

On the followingmorning, anearlyworker takinga short cut throughHydePark, foundthebodyofamanlyingby thesideofacarriagedrive.Hewasfullydressedsavethathiscoatandwaistcoathadbeenremoved.Woundabouthisbodywasawoman'ssilknight-dressstainedwithblood.Thehandsofthefigurewerecrossedonthebreastanduponthemlayahandfulofdaffodils.

At eleven o'clock thatmorning the evening newspapers burst forthwith theintelligence that thebodyhadbeen identified as that ofThorntonLyne, andthathehadbeenshotthroughtheheart.

CHAPTERVFOUNDINLYNE'SPOCKET

"TheLondonpoliceareconfrontedwithanewmystery,whichhasfeaturesso

remarkable,thatitwouldnotbeanexaggerationtodescribethiscrimeastheMurderMysteryoftheCentury.Awell-knownfigureinLondonSociety,Mr.ThorntonLyne, headof an important commercial organisation, a poet of nomeanquality,andamillionairerenownedforhisphilanthropicactivities,wasfounddeadinHydeParkintheearlyhoursofthismorning,incircumstanceswhichadmitofnodoubtthathewasmostbrutallymurdered.

"At half-past five, Thomas Savage, a bricklayer's labourer employed by theCubittTownConstructionCompany,wasmakinghiswayacrossHydeParkenroutetohiswork.HehadcrossedthemaindrivewhichrunsparallelwiththeBayswaterRoad,whenhisattentionwasattractedtoafigurelyingonthegrassneartothesidewalk.Hemadehiswaytothespotanddiscoveredaman,whohad obviously been dead for some hours. The body had neither coat norwaistcoat,butaboutthebreast,onwhichhistwohandswerelaid,wasasilkgarment tightly wound about the body, and obviously designed to stanch awoundontheleftsideabovetheheart.

"Theextraordinaryfeatureisthatthemurderermustnotonlyhavecomposedthebody,buthadlaiduponitsbreastahandfulofdaffodils.Thepolicewereimmediatelysummonedandthebodywasremoved.Thepolicetheoryisthatthemurderwasnot committed inHydePark,but theunfortunategentlemanwaskilledelsewhereandhisbodyconveyedtotheParkinhisownmotor-car,whichwasfoundabandonedahundredyardsfromthesceneofthediscovery.Weunderstandthatthepoliceareworkinguponaveryimportantclue,andanarrestisimminent."

Mr. J. O. Tarling, late of the Shanghai Detective Service, read the shortaccountintheeveningnewspaper,andwasunusuallythoughtful.

Lynemurdered!Itwasanextraordinarycoincidencethathehadbeenbroughtintotouchwiththisyoungmanonlyafewdaysbefore.

TarlingknewnothingofLyne'sprivate life, thoughfromhisownknowledgeofthemanduringhisshortstayinShanghai,heguessedthatthatlifewasnotwhollyblameless.HehadbeentoobusyinChinatobotherhisheadaboutthevagariesofatourist,butheremembereddimlysomesortofscandalwhichhadattached to the visitor's name, and puzzled his head to recall all thecircumstances.

Heputdownthenewspaperwithalittlegrimaceindicativeofregret.Ifhehadonly been attached to ScotlandYard,what a case thiswould have been forhim!Herewasamysterywhichpromisedunusualinterest.

Hismindwanderedtothegirl,OdetteRider.Whatwouldshethinkofit?Shewouldbeshocked,hethought—horrified.Ithurthimtofeelthatshemightbeindirectly, even remotely associated with such a public scandal, and he

realisedwithasuddensenseofdismaythatnothingwaslessunlikelythanthathernamewouldbementionedasonewhohadquarrelledwiththedeadman.

"Pshaw!"hemuttered,shruggingoffthepossibilityasabsurd,and,walkingtothedoor,calledhisChineseservant.

LingChucamesilentlyathisbidding.

"LingChu,"hesaid,"thewhite-facedmanisdead."

LingChuraisedhisimperturbableeyestohismaster'sface.

"Allmendiesometime,"hesaidcalmly."Thismanquickdie.Thatisbetterthanlongdie."

Tarlinglookedathimsharply.

"Howdoyouknowthathequickdie?"hedemanded.

"Thesethingsaretalkedabout,"saidLingChuwithouthesitation.

"ButnotintheChineselanguage,"repliedTarling,"and,LingChu,youspeaknoEnglish."

"Ispeakalittle,master,"saidLingChu,"andIhaveheardthesethingsinthestreets."

Tarlingdidnotanswerimmediately,andtheChinamanwaited.

"LingChu,"hesaidafterawhile,"thismancametoShanghaiwhilstwewerethere,andtherewastrouble-trouble.OncehewasthrownoutfromWingFu'stea-house,wherehehadbeensmokingopium.Alsotherewasanothertrouble—doyouremember?"

TheChinamanlookedhimstraightintheeyes.

"I am forgetting,"he said. "Thiswhite-facewas abadman. I amgladhe isdead."

"Humph!"saidTarling,anddismissedhisretainer.

LingChuwasthecleverestofallhissleuths,amanwhoneverliftedhisnosefromthetrailonceitwasstruck,andhehadbeenthemostloyalandfaithfulofTarling'snativetrailers.ButthedetectiveneverpretendedthatheunderstoodLingChu'smind, or that he could pierce the veilwhich the native droppedbetween his own private thoughts and the curious foreigner. Even nativecriminalswerebaffledintheirinterpretationofLingChu'sviews,andmanyamanhadgonetothescaffoldpuzzlingthehead,whichwassoontobesnickedfromhisbody,overthemethodbywhichLingChuhaddetectedhiscrime.

Tarlingwent back to the table andpickedup thenewspaper, but hadhardly

begun to readwhen the telephone bell rang.He picked up the receiver andlistened. To his amazement it was the voice of Cresswell, the AssistantCommissionerofPolice,whohadbeeninstrumentalinpersuadingTarlingtocometoEngland.

"Can you come round to theYard immediately, Tarling?" said the voice. "Iwanttotalktoyouaboutthismurder."

"Surely,"saidTarling."I'llbewithyouinafewminutes."

In fiveminutes hewas at ScotlandYard andwas ushered into the office ofAssistantCommissionerCresswell.Thewhite-hairedmanwhocameacrosstomeet him with a smile of pleasure in his eyes disclosed the object of thesummons.

"I'mgoingtobringyouintothiscase,Tarling,"hesaid."Ithascertainaspectswhich seem outside the humdrum experience of our own people. It is notunusual, as you know," he said, as he motioned the other to a chair, "forScotlandYard toengageoutsidehelp,particularlywhenwehaveacrimeofthischaractertodealwith.Thefactsyouknow,"hewenton,asheopenedathin folder. "These are the reports, which you can read at your leisure.ThorntonLynewas,tosaytheleast,eccentric.Hislifewasnotaparticularlywholesomeone,andhehadmanyundesirableacquaintances,amongstwhomwasa criminal andex-convictwhowasonly released fromgaol a fewdaysago."

"That'sratherextraordinary,"saidTarling,liftinghiseyebrows."Whathadheincommonwiththecriminal?"

CommissionerCresswellshruggedhisshoulders.

"MyownviewisthatthisacquaintancewasratheraposeofLyne's.Helikedtobetalkedabout.Itgavehimacertainreputationforcharacteramongsthisfriends."

"Whoisthecriminal?"askedTarling.

"HeisamannamedStay,apetty larcenist,and inmyopinionamuchmoredangerouscharacterthanthepolicehaverealised."

"Ishe——"beganTarling.ButtheCommissionershookhishead.

"Ithinkwecanrulehimoutfromthelistofpeoplewhomaybesuspectedofthismurder,"hesaid."SamStayhasveryfewqualitiesthatwouldcommendthemselves to theaverageman,but therecanbenodoubtat all thathewasdevotedtoLyne,bodyandsoul.WhenthedetectivetemporarilyinchargeofthecasewentdowntoLambethtointerviewStay,hefoundhimlyingonhisbed prostrate with grief, with a newspaper containing the particulars of the

murderbyhisside.Theman isbesidehimselfwithsorrow,and threatens to'do in' the personwho is responsible for this crime.You can interview himlater.Idoubtwhetheryouwillgetmuchoutofhim,becauseheisabsolutelyincoherent.Lynewas somethingmore thanhuman in his eyes, and I shouldimaginethattheonlydecentemotionhehashadinhislifeisthisaffectionfora man who was certainly good to him, whether he was sincere in hisphilanthropy or otherwise.Now here are a few of the factswhich have notbeenmadepublic."Cresswellsettledhimselfbackinhischairandtickedoffonhisfingersthepointsashemadethem.

"YouknowthataroundLyne'schestasilknight-dresswasdiscovered?"

Tarlingnodded.

"Underthenight-dress,madeintoapad,evidentlywiththeobjectofarrestingthebleeding,weretwohandkerchiefs,neatlyfolded,asthoughtheyhadbeentakenfromadrawer.Theywereladies'handkerchiefs,sowemaystartonthesuppositionthatthereisawomaninthecase."

Tarlingnodded.

"Now another peculiar feature of the case, which happily has escaped theattention of those who saw the body first and gave particulars to thenewspapers, was that Lyne, though fully dressed, wore a pair of thick feltslippers.Theyweretakenoutofhisownstoreyesterdayevening,aswehaveascertained,byLynehimself,whosent foroneofhisassistants tohisofficeandtoldhimtogetapairofverysoft-soledslippers.

"ThethirditemisthatLyne'sbootswerediscoveredinthedesertedmotor-carwhichwasdrawnupbythesideoftheroadahundredyardsfromwherethebodywaslying.

"And the fourth feature—and this explainswhy I havebroughtyou into thecase—isthatinthecarwasdiscoveredhisbloodstainedcoatandwaistcoat.Intheright-handpocketofthelattergarment,"saidCresswell,speakingslowly,"wasfoundthis."Hetookfromhisdrawerasmallpieceofcrimsonpapertwoinchessquare,andhandeditwithoutcommenttothedetective.

Tarlingtookthepaperandstared.WritteninthickblackinkwerefourChinesecharacters,"tzuchaofannao"—"Hebroughtthistroubleuponhimself."

CHAPTERVITHEMOTHEROFODETTERIDER

Thetwomenlookedatoneanotherinsilence.

"Well?"saidtheCommissioneratlast.

Tarlingshookhishead.

"That's amazing," he said, and looked at the little slip of paper between hisfingerandthumb.

"You seewhy I am bringing you in," said the Commissioner. "If there is aChineseendtothiscrime,nobodyknowsbetterthanyouhowtodealwithit.Ihavehadthissliptranslated.Itmeans'Hebroughtthistroubleuponhimself.'"

"Literally, 'self look for trouble,'" saidTarling. "But there is one factwhichyoumaynothavenoticed.Ifyouwilllookattheslip,youwillseethatitisnotwrittenbutprinted."

He passed the little red square across the table, and the Commissionerexaminedit.

"That's true,"hesaid insurprise."Ididnotnotice that.Haveyouseen theseslipsbefore?"

Tarlingnodded.

"A few years ago," he said. "There was a very bad outbreak of crime inShanghai,mostly under the leadership of a notorious criminal whom I wasinstrumentalingettingbeheaded.Heranagangcalled'TheCheerfulHearts'—you know the fantastic titleswhich theseChinese gangs adopt. It was theircustomtoleaveonthesceneoftheirdepredationstheHong,orsign-manualofthegang.Itwaswordedexactlyasthisslip,onlyitwaswritten.Thesevisitingcardsof'TheCheerfulHearts'wereboughtupascurios,andcommandedhighprices until some enterprising Chinaman started printing them, so that youcouldbuy themat almostany stationer's shop inShanghai—just asyoubuypicturepost-cards."

TheCommissionernodded.

"Andthisisoneofthose?"

"Thisissuchaone.Howitcamehere,heavenknows,"hesaid."Itiscertainlythemostremarkablediscovery."

TheCommissionerwent toacupboard,unlockeditandtookoutasuit-case,whichheplaceduponthetableandopened.

"Now,"saidtheCommissioner,"lookatthis,Tarling."

"This"wasastainedgarment,whichTarlinghadnodifficultyinrecognisingasanight-dress.Hetookitoutandexaminedit.Savefortwospraysofforget-

me-notsupon the sleeves itwasperfectlyplain andwas innocent of laceorembroidery.

"Itwasfoundroundhisbody,andherearethehandkerchiefs."Hepointedtotwotinysquaresoflinen,sodiscolouredastobehardlyrecognisable.

Tarlingliftedtheflimsygarment,withitsevidenceoftheterriblepurposeforwhichithadbeenemployed,andcarriedittothelight.

"Aretherelaundrymarks?"

"Nonewhatever,"saidtheCommissioner.

"Oronthehandkerchiefs?"

"None,"repliedMr.Cresswell.

"Thepropertyofagirlwho livedalone,"saidTarling."She isnotverywelloff,butextremelyneat,fondofgoodthings,butnotextravagant,eh?"

"Howdoyouknowthat?"askedtheCommissioner,surprised.

Tarlinglaughed.

"The absence of laundrymarks shows that shewashes her silk garments athome,andprobablyherhandkerchiefsalso,whichplacesheramongstthegirlswhoaren'tblessedwithtoomanyofthisworld'sgoods.Thefactthatitissilk,andgood silk, and that thehandkerchiefs aregood linen, suggests awomanwhotakesagreatdealoftrouble,yetwhomonewouldnotexpecttofindover-dressed.Haveyouanyotherclue?"

"None,"saidtheCommissioner."WehavediscoveredthatMr.Lynehadratheraseriousquarrelwithoneofhisemployees,aMissOdetteRider——"

Tarlingcaughthisbreath. Itwas,he toldhimself, absurd to take sokeenaninterestinapersonwhomhehadnotseenformorethantenminutes,andwhoaweekbeforewasaperfectstranger.Butsomehowthegirlhadmadeadeeperimpressionuponhimthanhehadrealised.Thisman,whohadspenthislifeintheinvestigationofcrimeandinthestudyofcriminals,hadfoundlittletimetointeresthimselfinwomanhood,andOdetteRiderhadbeenarevelationtohim.

"Ihappen toknow therewasaquarrel. Ialsoknow thecause,"hesaid,andrelated briefly the circumstances underwhich he himself hadmet ThorntonLyne. "What have you against her?" he said, with an assumption ofcarelessnesswhichhedidnotfeel.

"Nothingdefinite,"saidtheCommissioner."HerprincipalaccuseristhemanStay. Even he did not accuse her directly, but he hinted that she wasresponsible,insomewaywhichhedidnotparticularise,forThorntonLyne's

death.Ithoughtitcuriousthatheshouldknowanythingaboutthisgirl,butIaminclinedtothinkthatThorntonLynemadethismanhisconfidant."

"Whatabouttheman?"askedTarling."Canheaccountforhismovementslastnightandearlythismorning?"

"Hisstatement,"repliedtheCommissioner,"isthathesawMr.Lyneathisflatat nine o'clock, and thatMr. Lyne gave him five pounds in the presence ofLyne's butler.He said he left the flat andwent to his lodgings in Lambeth,wherehewenttobedveryearly.Alltheevidencewehavebeenabletocollectsupports his statement.We have interviewed Lyne's butler, and his accountagrees with Stay's. Stay left at five minutes past nine, and at twenty-fiveminutes to ten—exactly half an hour later—Lyne himself left the house,drivinghis two-seater.Hewasalone,andtoldthebutlerhewasgoingtohisclub."

"Howwashedressed?"askedTarling.

"Thatisratherimportant,"noddedtheCommissioner."Forhewasineveningdressuntilnineo'clock—infact,untilafterStayhadgone—whenhechangedintothekitinwhichhewasfounddead."

Tarlingpursedhislips.

"He'dhardlychangefromeveningintodaydresstogotohisclub,"hesaid.

He leftScotlandYarda littlewhileafter this,amuchpuzzledman.His firstcallwasat the flat inEdgwareRoadwhichOdetteRideroccupied.Shewasnot at home, and the hall porter told him that she had been away since theafternoonofthepreviousday.HerlettersweretobesentontoHertford.Hehadtheaddress,becauseitwashisbusinesstointerceptthepostmanandsendforwardtheletters.

"HillingtonGrove,Hertford."

Tarlingwasworried.Therewas really no reasonwhy he should be, he toldhimself, but hewas undoubtedlyworried.Andhewas disappointed too.Hefeltthat,ifhecouldhaveseenthegirlandspokenwithherforafewminutes,hecouldhavecompletelydisassociatedher fromanysuspicionwhichmightattach.Infact,thatshewasawayfromhome,thatshehad"disappeared"fromherflatontheeveofthemurder,wouldbequiteenough,asheknew,tosettheofficialpolicemannosingonhertrail.

"Do you know whether Miss Rider has friends at Hertford?" he asked theporter.

"Oh,yes,sir,"saidthemannodding."MissRider'smotherlivesthere."

Tarlingwasgoing,whenthemandetainedhimwitharemarkwhichswitchedhis mind back to the murder and filled him with a momentary sense ofhopelessdismay.

"I'm rather gladMiss Rider didn't happen to be in last night, sir," he said."Someofthetenantsupstairsweremakingcomplaints."

"Complaintsaboutwhat?"askedTarling,andthemanhesitated.

"I suppose you're a friend of the young lady's, aren't you?" and Tarlingnodded.

"Well,itonlyshowsyou,"saidtheporterconfidentially,"howpeopleareveryoftenblamedforsomethingtheydidnotdo.Thetenantinthenextflatisabitcrotchety;he'samusician,andratherdeaf.Ifhehadn'tbeendeaf,hewouldn'thavesaidthatMissRiderwasthecauseofhisbeingwakenedup.Isupposeitwassomethingthathappenedoutside."

"Whatdidhehear?"askedTarlingquickly,andtheporterlaughed.

"Well,sir,he thoughtheheardashot,andascreamlikeawoman's. Itwokehimup.Ishouldhavethoughthehaddreamtit,butanothertenant,whoalsolivesinthebasement,heardthesamesound,andtherumthingwastheyboththoughtitwasinMissRider'sflat."

"Whattimewasthis?"

"Theysayaboutmidnight,sir,"saidtheporter;"but,ofcourse,itcouldn'thavehappened,becauseMissRiderhadnotbeenin,andtheflatwasempty."

HerewasadisconcertingpieceofnewsforTarling tocarrywithhimonhisrailwayjourneytoHertford.Hewasdeterminedtoseethegirlandputheronher guard, and though he realised that it was not exactly his duty to put asuspectedcriminaluponherguard,andthathisconductwas,tosaytheleastofit,irregular,suchdidnottroublehimverymuch.

He had taken his ticket and was making his way to the platform when heespiedafamiliarfigurehurryingasfromatrainwhichhadjustcomein,andapparentlythemansawTarlingevenbeforeTarlinghadrecognisedhim,forheturnedabruptlyasideandwouldhavedisappearedintothepressofpeoplehadnotthedetectiveovertakenhim.

"Hullo, Mr. Milburgh!" he said. "Your name is Milburgh, if I rememberaright?"

The manager of Lyne's Store turned, rubbing his hands, his habitual smileuponhisface.

"Why,tobesure,"hesaidgenially,"it'sMr.Tarling,thedetectivegentleman.

Whatsadnewsthisis,Mr.Tarling!Howdreadfulforeverybodyconcerned!"

"IsupposeithasmeantanupsetattheStores,thisterriblehappening?"

"Oh, yes, sir," saidMilburgh in a shocked voice. "Of coursewe closed theStore for the day. It is dreadful—the most dreadful thing within myexperience.Isanybodysuspected,sir?"heasked.

Tarlingshookhishead.

"Itisamostmysteriouscircumstance,Mr.Milburgh,"hesaid.Andthen:"MayIaskifanyprovisionhadbeenmadetocarryonthebusinessintheeventofMr.Lyne'ssuddendeath?"

AgainMilburghhesitated,andseemedreluctanttoreply.

"Iam,ofcourse, incontrol,"hesaid,"asIwaswhenMr.Lyne tookhis triparoundtheworld.IhavereceivedauthorityalsofromMr.Lyne'ssolicitorstocontinuethedirectionofthebusinessuntiltheCourtappointsatrustee."

Tarlingeyedhimnarrowly.

"What effect has this murder had upon you personally?" he asked bluntly."Doesitenhanceordepreciateyourposition?"

Milburghsmiled.

"Unhappily,"hesaid,"itenhancesmyposition,becauseitgivesmeagreaterauthority and a greater responsibility. I would that the occasion had neverarisen,Mr.Tarling."

"I'msureyoudo,"saidTarlingdryly,rememberingLyne'saccusationsagainsttheother'sprobity.

Afterafewcommonplacesthemenparted.

Milburgh!OnthejourneytoHertfordTarlinganalysedthaturbaneman,andfoundhimdeficientincertainessentialqualities;weighedhimandfoundhimwanting inelementswhich shouldcertainly formpartof theequipmentofatrustworthyman.

AtHertfordhejumpedintoacabandgavetheaddress.

"HillingtonGrove,sir?That'sabouttwomilesout,"saidthecabman."It'sMrs.Rideryouwant?"

Tarlingnodded.

"Youain'tcomewiththeyoungladyshewasexpecting?"saidthedriver

"No,"repliedTarlinginsurprise.

"Iwas told to keepmy eyes open for a young lady," explained the cabmanvaguely.

A further surprise awaited the detective. He expected to discover thatHillingtonGrovewas a small suburban house bearing a grandiose title. Hewasamazedwhenthecabmanturnedthroughapairofimpressivegates,anddroveupawidedriveofsomeconsiderablelength,turningeventuallyontoagravelled space before a largemansion. It was hardly the kind of home hewould have expected for the parent of a cashier at Lyne's Store, and hissurprisewasincreasedwhenthedoorwasopenedbyafootman.

Hewasusheredintoadrawing-room,beautifullyandartisticallyfurnished.Hebegantothinkthatsomemistakehadbeenmade,andwasframinganapologytothemistressofthehouse,whenthedooropenedandaladyentered.

Heragewasnearerfortythanthirty,butshewasstillabeautifulwomanandcarriedherselfwiththeairofagranddame.Shewasgraciousnessitselftothevisitor,butTarlingthoughthedetectedanoteofanxietybothinhermienandinhervoice.

"I'mafraidthere'ssomemistake,"hebegan."IhaveprobablyfoundthewrongMrs.Rider—IwantedtoseeMissOdetteRider."

Theladynodded.

"That is my daughter," she said. "Have you any news of her? I am quiteworriedabouther."

"Worriedabouther?"saidTarlingquickly."Why,whathashappened?Isn'tshehere?"

"Here?"saidMrs.Rider,wide-eyed."Ofcoursesheisnot."

"Buthasn'tshebeenhere?"askedTarling."Didn'tshearriveheretwonightsago?"

Mrs.Ridershookherhead.

"My daughter has not been," she replied. "But she promised to come andspend a few days with me, and last night I received a telegram—wait amoment,Iwillgetitforyou."

Shewasgoneafewmomentsandcamebackwithalittlebuffform,whichshehandedtothedetective.Helookedandread:

"Myvisitcancelled.Donotwritetomeatflat.IwillcommunicatewithyouwhenIreachmydestination."

ThetelegramhadbeenhandedinattheGeneralPostOffice,London,andwas

dated nine o'clock—three hours, according to expert opinion, before themurderwascommitted!

CHAPTERVIITHEWOMANINTHECASE

"MayIkeepthistelegram?"askedTarling.

Thewomannodded.Hesawthatshewasnervous,illateaseandworried.

"Ican'tquiteunderstandwhyOdetteshouldnotcome,"shesaid."Isthereanyparticularreason?"

"ThatIcan'tsay,"saidTarling."Butpleasedon'tletitworryyou,Mrs.Rider.Sheprobablychangedhermindatthelastmomentandisstayingwithfriendsintown."

"Thenyouhaven'tseenher?"askedMrs.Rideranxiously.

"Ihaven'tseenherforseveraldays."

"Isanythingwrong?"Hervoiceshookforasecond,butsherecoveredherself."Yousee,"shemadeanattempttosmile."Ihavebeeninthehousefortwoorthreedays,andIhaveseenneitherOdettenor—noranybodyelse,"sheaddedquickly.

Who was she expecting to see, wondered Tarling, and why did she checkherself?Wasitpossiblethatshehadnotheardofthemurder?Hedeterminedtotesther.

"Yourdaughter isprobablydetained in townowing toMr.Lyne'sdeath,"hesaid,watchingherclosely.

Shestartedandwentwhite.

"Mr.Lyne'sdeath?"shestammered."Hashedied?Thatyoungman?"

"Hewasmurdered inHyde Park yesterdaymorning," said Tarling, and shestaggeredbackandcollapsedintoachair.

"Murdered!Murdered!"shewhispered."Oh,God!Notthat,notthat!"

Her face was ashen white, and she was shaking in every limb, this statelywoman who had walked so serenely into the drawing-room a few minutesbefore.

Presentlyshecoveredher facewithherhandsandbegan toweepsoftlyand

Tarlingwaited.

"DidyouknowMr.Lyne?"heaskedafterawhile.

Sheshookherhead.

"HaveyouheardanystoriesaboutMr.Lyne?"

Shelookedup.

"None,"shesaidlistlessly,"exceptthathewas—notaveryniceman."

"Forgiveme asking you, but are you verymuch interested—"He hesitated,andsheliftedherhead.

Hedidnotknowhowtoputthisquestionintowords.Itpuzzledhimthatthedaughterofthiswoman,whowasevidentlywelloff,shouldbeengagedinamoreorlesshumblecapacityinLyne'sStore.Hewantedtoknowwhethersheknewthatthegirlhadbeendismissed,andwhetherthatmademuchdifferencetoher.Thenagain,hisconversationwithOdetteRiderhadnotledhimtotheconclusion thatshecouldafford to throwupherwork.Shespokeoffindinganother job, and that did not sound as though her mother was in a goodposition.

"Is there any necessity for your daughter working for a living?" he askedbluntly,andshedroppedhereyes.

"It is herwish," she said in a low voice. "She does not get onwith peopleabouthere,"sheaddedhastily.

Therewasabriefsilence,thenheroseandofferedhishand.

"IdohopeIhaven'tworriedyouwithmyquestions,"hesaid,"andIdaresayyouwonderwhy Ihavecome. Iwill tellyoucandidly that I amengaged ininvestigating this murder, and I was hoping to hear that your daughter, incommonwiththeotherpeoplewhowerebroughtintocontactwithMr.Lyne,might give me some thread of a clue which would lead to more importantthings."

"A detective?" she asked, and he could have sworn therewas horror in hereyes.

"A sort of detective," he laughed, "but not a formidable one, I hope, Mrs.Rider."

Shesawhimtothedoor,andwatchedhimashedisappeareddownthedrive;then walked slowly back to the room and stood against the marblemantelpiece,herheaduponherarms,weepingsoftly.

JackTarlingleftHertfordmoreconfusedthanever.Hehadinstructedthefly

drivertowaitforhimatthegates,andthisworthyheproceededtopump.

Mrs. Rider had been living in Hertford for four years, and was greatlyrespected.Didthecabmanknowthedaughter?Ohyes,hehadseentheyounglady once or twice, but "She don't come very often," he explained. "By allaccountsshedoesn'tgetonwithherfather."

"Herfather?Ididnotknowshehadafather,"saidTarlinginsurprise.

Yes, there was a father. Hewas an infrequent visitor, and usually came upfrom London by the late train andwas driven in his own brougham to thehouse.Hehadnotseenhim—indeed,veryfewpeoplehad,butbyallaccountshewasaveryniceman,andwell-connectedintheCity.

TarlinghadtelegraphedtotheassistantwhohadbeenplacedathisdisposalbyScotlandYard,andDetective-InspectorWhitesidewaswaitingforhimatthestation.

"Anyfreshnews?"askedTarling.

"Yes,sir,there'sratheranimportantcluecometolight,"saidWhiteside."I'vegotthecarhere,sir,andwemightdiscussitonthewaybacktotheYard."

"Whatisit?"askedTarling.

"WegotitfromMr.Lyne'smanservant,"saidtheinspector."ItappearsthatthebutlerhadbeengoingthroughMr.Lyne's things,actingon instructionsfromheadquarters,and inacornerofhiswriting-deska telegramwasdiscovered.I'llshowityouwhenIget to theYard.Ithasaveryimportantbearinguponthecase,andIthinkmayleadustothemurderer."

Ontheword"telegram"Tarlingfeltmechanically inhispocketsfor thewirewhichMrs.Riderhadgivenhimfromherdaughter.Nowhe took itoutandreaditagain.IthadbeenhandedinattheGeneralPostOfficeatnineo'clockexactly.

"That'sextraordinary, sir,"Detective-InspectorWhiteside, sittingbyhis side,hadoverlookedthewire.

"Whatisextraordinary?"askedTarlingwithanairofsurprise.

"I happened to see the signature to that wire—'Odette,' isn't it?" said theScotlandYardman.

"Yes,"noddedTarling."Why?Whatisthereextraordinaryinthat?"

"Well,sir,"saidWhiteside,"it'ssomethingofacoincidencethatthetelegramwhichwasfoundinMr.Lyne'sdesk,andmakinganappointmentwithhimatacertain flat in the Edgware Road, was also signed 'Odette,' and," he bent

forward, looking at thewire still in the astonishedTarling's hand, "and," hesaidintriumph,"itwashandedinexactlyatthesametimeasthat!"

An examination of the telegram at Scotland Yard left no doubt in thedetective'smind thatWhitesidehad spokennothingbut the truth.Anurgentmessage was despatched to the General Post Office, and in two hours theoriginaltelegramswerebeforehim.Theywerebothwritteninthesamehand.Thefirst tohermother,saying thatshecouldnotcome; thesecond toLyne,running:

"Willyouseemeatmyflatto-nightateleveno'clock?ODETTERIDER."

Tarling's heart sank within him. This amazing news was stunning. It wasimpossible, impossible, he told himself again and again, that this girl couldhave killed Lyne. Suppose she had? Where had they met? Had they gonedrivingtogether,andhadsheshothiminmakingthecircuitofthePark?Butwhyshouldhebewearinglistslippers?Whyshouldhiscoatbeoff,andwhyshouldthenight-dressbeboundroundandroundhisbody?

He thought the matter out, but the more he thought the more puzzled hebecame.Itwasaverydepressedmanwhointerviewedanauthoritythatnightandsecuredfromhimasearchwarrant.

ArmedwiththisandaccompaniedbyWhitesidehemadehiswaytotheflatinEdgwareRoad,and, showinghisauthority, securedapass-key from thehallporter,whowasalsothecaretakerofthebuilding.Tarlingrememberedthelasttimehehadgonetotheflat,anditwaswithafeelingofintensepityforthegirlthatheturnedthekeyinthelockandsteppedintothelittlehall,reachingouthishandandswitchingonthelightashedidso.

Therewasnothinginthehalltosuggestanythingunusual.Therewasjustthatcloseandmustysmellwhichispeculiartoallbuildingswhichhavebeenshutup,evenforafewdays.

Buttherewassomethingelse.

Tarling sniffed andWhiteside sniffed. A dull, "burnt" smell, some pungent,"scorched"odour,whichherecognisedasthestalestenchofexplodedcordite.Hewentintothetinydining-room;everythingwasneat,nothingdisplaced.

"That'scurious,"saidWhiteside,pointingtothesideboard,andTarlingsawadeep glass vase half filledwith daffodils. Two or three blossoms had eitherfallen or had been pulled out, and were lying, shrivelled and dead, on thepolishedsurfaceofthesideboard.

"Humph!"saidTarling."Idon'tlikethisverymuch."

Heturnedandwalkedbackintothehallandopenedanotherdoor,whichstood

ajar.Againhe turnedon the light.Hewas in thegirl'sbedroom.Hestoppeddead,andslowlyexaminedtheroom.Butforthedisorderedappearanceofthechestofdrawers,therewasnothingunusualintheappearanceoftheroom.Atthe open doors of the bureau a little heap of female attire had been thrownpell-mell upon the floor.All thesewere eloquent of hasty action. Stillmorewasasmallsuit-case,halfpacked,anthebed,alsoleftinagreathurry.

Tarlingsteppedintotheroom,andifhehadbeenhalfblindhecouldnothavemissedthelastandmostdamningevidenceofall.Thecarpetwasofabiscuitcolourandcoveredtheroomflushtothewainscot.Oppositethefireplacewasabig,darkred,irregularstain.

Tarling'sfacegrewtense.

"ThisiswhereLynewasshot,"hesaid.

"Andlookthere!"saidWhitesideexcitedly,pointingtothechestofdrawers.

Tarlingsteppedquicklyacrosstheroomandpulledoutagarmentwhichhungovertheedgeofthedrawer.Itwasanight-dress—asilknight-dresswithtwolittle sprays of forget-me-nots embroidered on the sleeves. It was thecompanion to thatwhichhadbeen found aboutLyne's body.And therewassomething more. The removal of the garment from the drawer disclosed amarkonthewhiteenamelofthebureau.Itwasabloodythumbprint!

Thedetectivelookedroundathisassistant,andtheexpressionofhisfacewassetinitshardestmask.

"Whiteside," he said quietly, "swear out a warrant for the arrest of OdetteRideronachargeofwilfulmurder.Telegraphall stations todetain thisgirl,andletmeknowtheresult."

Without another word he turned from the room and walked back to hislodgings.

CHAPTERVIIITHESILENCINGOFSAMSTAY

Therewasacriminal inLondonwhowaswatcheddayandnight. ItwasnonewexperiencetoSamStaytofindanunconcerned-lookingdetectivestrollingalong behind him; but for the first time in his life the burglar was neitherdisconcertednorembarrassedbytheseattentions.

The death ofThorntonLyne had been themost tragic blowwhich had ever

overtakenhim.Andiftheyhadarrestedhimhewouldhavebeenindifferent.Forthishang-dogcriminal,withthelong,melancholyface,linedandseamedandpuckeredsothatheappearedtobeanoldman,hadlovedThorntonLyneashehadlovednothinginhiswildandbarrenlife.Lynetohimhadbeensomedivine creature, possessed gifts and qualities which no other would haverecognised in him. InSam's eyesLyne couldhavedonenowrong.BySamStay'sstandardhestoodforallthatwasbeautifulinhumannature.

ThorntonLynewasdead!Dead,dead,dead.

Everyfootfallechoedthehorrible,unbelievableword.Themanwasincapableof feeling—everyotherpainwasdeadened in thisgreatsufferingwhichwashis.

And who had been the cause of it all?Whose treachery had cut short thiswonderful life? He ground his teeth at the thought. Odette Rider! Heremembered the name.He remembered all the injuries she had done to thisman,hisbenefactor.He remembered that longconversationwhichLyneandhe had had on themorning of Sam's release from prison and the planningswhichhadfollowed.

He could not know that his hero was lying, and that in his piqué and hurtvanity he was inventing grievances which had no foundation, and offenceswhich had never been committed. He only knew that, because of the hatewhichlayinThorntonLyne'sheart,justifiablehatefromSam'sview,thedeathofthisgreatmanhadbeenencompassed.

Hewalkedaimlesslywestward,unconsciousofanduncaringforhisshadower,andhadreachedtheendofPiccadillywhensomebodytookhimgentlybythearm.Heturned,andasherecognisedanacquaintance,histhicklipswentbackinanuglysnarl.

"It'sallright,Sam,"saidtheplain-clothespolicemanwithagrin."There'snotroublecomingtoyou.Ijustwanttoaskyouafewquestions."

"You fellows have been asking questions day and night since—since thathappened,"growledSam.

Nevertheless,hepermittedhimselftobemollifiedandledtoaseatinthePark.

"Now, I'm putting it to you straight, Sam," said the policeman. "We've gotnothingagainstyouat theYard,butwe thinkyoumightbeable tohelpus.YouknewMr.Lyne;hewasverydecenttoyou."

"Here,shutup,"saidSamsavagely."Idon'twanttotalkaboutit.Idon'twanttothinkaboutit!D'yehear?Hewasthegrandestfellowthateverwas,wasMr.Lyne,Godblesshim!Oh,myGod!MyGod!"hewailed,andtothedetective's

surprisethishardenedcriminalburiedhisfaceinhishands.

"That'sallright,Sam.Iknowhewasanicefellow.Hadheanyenemies—hemight have talked to a chap like youwhere hewouldn't have talked to hisfriends."

Sam,red-eyed,lookedupsuspiciously.

"AmIgoingtogetintoanytroublefortalking?"hesaid.

"Noneatall,Sam,"saidthepolicemanquickly."Now,youbeagoodladanddoallyoucantohelpus,andmaybe,ifyouevergetintotrouble,we'llputoneinforyou.Doyousee?Didanybodyhatehim?"

Samnodded.

"Wasitawoman?"askedthedetectivewithstudiedindifference.

"It was," replied the otherwith an oath. "Damn her, it was!He treated herwell,didMr.Lyne.Shewasbroke,half-starving;hetookheroutofthegutterandputherintoagoodplace,andshewentaboutmakingaccusationsagainsthim!"

Hepouredforthastreamof thefoulestabusewhich thepolicemanhadeverheard.

"That'sthekindofgirlshewas,Slade,"hewenton,addressingthedetective,ascriminalswill,familiarlybytheirsurnames."Sheain'tfittowalktheearth——"

Hisvoicebroke.

"MightIaskhername?"demandedSlade.

AgainSamlookedsuspiciouslyaround.

"Lookhere,"hesaid,"leavemetodealwithher.I'llsettlewithher,anddon'tyouworry!"

"Thatwouldonlygetyouintotrouble,Sam,"musedSlade."Justgiveushername.Diditbeginwithan'R'?"

"HowdoIknow?"growledthecriminal."Ican'tspell.HernamewasOdette."

"Rider?"saidtheothereagerly.

"That'sher.SheusedtobecashierinLyne'sStore."

"Now,justquietenyourselfdownandtellmeallLynetoldyouabouther,willyou,mylad?"

SamStaystaredathim,andthenaslowlookofcunningpassedoverhisface.

"Ifitwasher!"hebreathed."IfIcouldonlyputherawayforit!"

Nothing better illustrated the mentality of this man than the fact that thethoughtof"shopping" thegirlhadnotoccurred tohimbefore.Thatwas theidea, a splendid idea!Again his lips curled back, and he eyed the detectivewithaqueerlittlesmile.

"Allright,sir,"hesaid."I'lltellthehead-split.I'mnotgoingtotellyou."

"That'sas itought tobe,Sam,"saidthedetectivegenially."YoucantellMr.TarlingorMr.Whitesideandthey'llmakeitworthyourwhile."

Thedetectivecalledacabandtogethertheydrove,nottoScotlandYard,buttoTarling's littleoffice inBondStreet. Itwashere that themanfromShanghaihadestablishedhisdetectiveagency,andherehewaitedwiththephlegmaticWhiteside for the return of the detective he had sent towithdrawSamStayfromhisshadower.

The man shuffled into the room, looked resentfully from one to the other,noddedtoboth,anddeclinedthechairwhichwaspushedforwardforhim.Hisheadwasthrobbinginanunaccountableway,asithadneverthrobbedbefore.Therewerecuriousbuzzesandnoises inhisears. Itwasstrange thathehadnotnoticedthisuntilhecameintothequietroom,tomeetthegraveeyesofahard-facedman,whomhedidnotrememberhavingseenbefore.

"Now,Stay,"saidWhiteside,whomatleastthecriminalrecognised,"wewanttohearwhatyouknowaboutthismurder."

Staypressedhislipstogetherandmadenoreply.

"Sit down," said Tarling, and this time the man obeyed. "Now, my lad,"Tarlingwenton—andwhenhewasinapersuasivemoodhisvoicewassilky—"theytellmethatyouwereafriendofMr.Lyne's."

Samnodded.

"Hewasgoodtoyou,washenot?"

"Good?"Themandrewadeepbreath. "I'dhavegivenmyheart andsoul tosavehimfromaminute'spain,Iwould,sir!I'mtellingyoustraight,andmayIbestruckdeadifI'mlying!Hewasanangelonearth—myGod,ifeverIlaymehandsonthatwoman,I'llstrangleher.I'llputherout!I'llnotleavehertillshe'storntorags!"

His voice rose, specks of foam stood on his lips his whole face seemedtransfiguredinanecstasyofhate.

"She'sbeenrobbinghimandrobbinghimforyears,"heshouted."Helookedafterherandprotectedher,andshewentandtoldliesabouthim,shedid.She

trappedhim!"

Hisvoice rose to a scream, andhemade amove forward towards thedesk,both fistsclenched till theknucklesshowedwhite.Tarlingsprangup, forherecognisedthesigns.Beforeanotherwordcouldbespoken,themancollapsedinaheaponthefloor,andlaylikeonedead.

Tarlingwasroundthetableinaninstant, turnedtheunconsciousmanonhisback,and,liftingoneeyelid,examinedthepupil.

"Epilepsyorsomethingworse,"hesaid."This thinghasbeenpreyingonthepoordevil'smind—'phoneanambulance,Whiteside,willyou?"

"ShallIgivehimsomewater?"

Tarlingshookhishead.

"Hewon'trecoverforhours,ifherecoversatall,"hesaid."IfSamStayknowsanythingtothedetrimentofOdetteRider,heislikelytocarryhisknowledgetothegrave."

AndinhisheartofheartsJ.O.Tarlingfeltalittlesenseofsatisfactionthatthemouthofthismanwasclosed.

CHAPTERIXWHERETHEFLOWERSCAMEFROM

WherewasOdetteRider?Thatwas a problemwhichhad to be solved.Shehaddisappearedasthoughtheearthhadopenedandswallowedherup.Everypolicestationin thecountryhadbeenwarned;alloutgoingshipswerebeingwatched;tactfulinquirieshadbeenmadeineverydirectionwhereitwaslikelyshemightbefound;andthehouseatHertfordwasunderobservationdayandnight.

Tarlinghadprocuredanadjournmentoftheinquest;for,whatevermightbehissentimentstowardsOdetteRider,hewas,itseemed,moreanxioustoperformhis duty to the State, and it was very necessary that no prurient-mindedcoroner should investigate too deeply into the cause and the circumstancesleadinguptoThorntonLyne'sdeath,lestthesuspectedcriminalbewarned.

Accompanied by Inspector Whiteside, he reexamined the flat to which thebloodstained carpet pointed unmistakably as being the scene of themurder.Theredthumbprintsonthebureauhadbeenphotographedandwereawaitingcomparisonwiththegirl'sthemomentshewasapprehended.

CarrymoreMansions,whereOdetteRiderlived,were,ashasbeendescribed,ablock of good-class flats, the ground floor being given over to shops. Theentrancetotheflatswasbetweentwoofthese,andaflightofstairsleddowntothebasement.Hereweresixsetsofapartments,withwindowsgivingouttothe narrow areaswhich ran parallel to the side streets on either side of theblock.

The centre of the basement consisted of a large concrete store-room, aboutwhichwere set little cubicles or cellars inwhich the tenants stored such oftheir baggage, furniture, etc., as they did not need. It was possible, hediscovered,topassfromthecorridorofthebasementflat,intothestoreroom,and out through a door at the back of the building into a small courtyard.Access to thestreetwassecuredthroughafairly largedoor,placedthereforthe convenience of tenants who wished to get their coal and heavy storesdelivered. In the street behind the block of flatswas amews, consisting ofaboutadozenshut-upstables,allofwhichwererentedbyataxicabcompany,andnowusedasagarage.

If themurderwascommitted in the flat, itwasby thisway thebodywouldhave been carried to the mews, and here, too, a car would attract littleattention. Inquiries made amongst employees of the cab company, some ofwhom occupied little rooms above their garages, elicited the importantinformationthatthecarhadbeenseeninthemewsonthenightofthemurder—a fact, it seemed, which had been overlooked in the preliminary policeinvestigations.

Thecarwasatwo-seaterDaimlerwithayellowbodyandahood.ThiswasanexactdescriptionofThorntonLyne'smachinewhichhadbeenfoundneartheplacewherehisbodywasdiscovered.Thehoodofthecarwasupwhenitwasseeninthemewsandthetimeapparentlywasbetweentenandelevenonthenightofthemurder.Butthoughhepursuedthemostdiligentinquiries,Tarlingfailed to discover any human being who had either recognised Lyne orobservedthecararriveordepart.

The hall porter of the flats, on being interviewed, was very emphatic thatnobodyhadcomeintothebuildingbythemainentrancebetweenthehoursoften and half-past. It was possible, he admitted, that they could have comebetween half-past ten and a quarter to eleven because he had gone to his"office,"which proved to be a stuffy little place under the stairs, to changefromhis uniform into his private clothes before goinghome.Hewas in thehabitoflockingthefrontdoorateleveno'clock.Tenantsofthemansionshadpass-keystothemaindoor,andofallthathappenedafterelevenhewouldbeignorant.Headmittedthathemayhavegonealittlebeforeeleventhatnight,butevenastothishewasnotpreparedtoswear.

"Infact,"saidWhitesideafterwards,"hisevidencewouldleadnowhere.Atthevery hour when somebody might have come into the flat—that is to say,betweenhalf-pasttenandaquartertoeleven—headmitshewasnotonduty."

Tarlingnodded.Hehadmade adiligent searchof the floorof thebasementcorridorthroughthestore-roomintothecourtyard,buthadfoundnotraceofblood.Nordidheexpecttofindanysuchtrace,sinceitwasclearthat,ifthemurderhadbeencommittedintheflatandthenight-dresswhichwaswoundaboutthedeadman'sbodywasOdetteRider's,therewouldbenobleeding.

"OfonethingIamsatisfied,"hesaid;"ifOdetteRidercommittedthismurdershe had an accomplice. It was impossible that she could have carried ordragged thisman into the open and put him into the car, carried him againfromthecarandlaidhimonthegrass."

"The daffodils puzzle me," saidWhiteside. "Why should he be found withdaffodilsonhischest?Andwhy,ifhewasmurderedhere,shouldshetroubletopaythattributeofherrespect?"

Tarling shook his head.Hewas nearer a solution to the lattermystery thaneitherofthemknew.

His search of the flat completed, he drove to Hyde Park and, guided byWhiteside,madehiswayto thespotwhere thebodywasfound.Itwasonagravelled sidewalk, nearer to the grass than to the road, and Whitesidedescribedthepositionofthebody.Tarlinglookedround,andsuddenlyutteredanexclamation.

"Iwonder,"hesaid,pointingtoaflower-bed.

Whitesidestared,thenlaughed.

"Thatcurious,"hesaid."Weseemtoseenothingbutdaffodilsinthismurder!"

ThebigbedtowhichTarlingwalkedwassmotheredwithgreatfeatherybellsthatdancedandswayedinthelightspringbreezes.

"Humph!"saidTarling."Doyouknowanythingaboutdaffodils,Whiteside?"

Whitesideshookhisheadwithalaugh.

"Alldaffodilsaredaffodils tome.Is thereanydifferenceinthem?Isupposetheremustbe."

Tarlingnodded.

"TheseareknownasGoldenSpurs,"hesaid,"akindwhichisverycommoninEngland. The daffodils in Miss Rider's flat are the variety known as theEmperor."

"Well?"saidWhiteside.

"Well," said the other slowly, "the daffodils I saw thismorningwhichwerefoundonLyne'schestwereGoldenSpurs."

He knelt down by the side of the bed and began pushing aside the stems,examiningthegroundcarefully.

"Hereyouare,"hesaid.

Hepointedtoadozenjaggedstems.

"Thatiswherethedaffodilswereplucked,I'dliketosweartothat.Look,theywere all pulled together by one hand. Somebody leaned over and pulled ahandful."

Whitesidelookeddubious.

"Mischievousboyssometimesdothesethings."

"Onlyinsinglestalks,"saidTarling,"andtheregularflowerthievesarecarefultostealfromvariouspartsofthebedsothatthelossshouldnotbereportedbytheParkgardeners."

"Thenyousuggest—"

"I suggest thatwhoeverkilledThorntonLyne found it convenient, for somereasonbestknowntohimselforherself,toornamentthebodyasitwasfound,andtheflowersweregotfromhere."

"Notfromthegirl'sflatatall?"

"I'm sure of that," replied Tarling emphatically. "In fact, I knew that thismorningwhenI'dseenthedaffodilswhichyouhadtakentoScotlandYard."

Whitesidescratchedhisnoseinperplexity.

"Thefurtherthiscasegoes,themorepuzzledIam,"hesaid."Hereisaman,awealthyman,whohasapparentlynobitterenemies,discovereddeadinHydePark,withawoman'ssilknight-dresswoundroundhischest,withlistslippersonhisfeet,andaChineseinscriptioninhispocket—andfurther,topuzzlethepolice, a bunch of daffodils on the chest. That was a woman's act, Mr.Tarling,"hesaidsuddenly.

Tarlingstarted."Howdoyoumean?"heasked.

"It was a woman's act to put flowers on the man," saidWhiteside quietly."Thosedaffodilstellmeofpityandcompassion,andperhapsrepentance."

AslowsmiledawnedonTarling'sface.

"My dearWhiteside," he said, "you are getting sentimental! And here," headded,lookingup,"attractedtothespot, isagentlemanIseemtobealwaysmeeting—Mr.Milburgh,Ithink."

Milburghhadstoppedatthesightofthedetective,andlookedasifhewouldhavebeengladtohavefadedawayunobserved.ButTarlinghadseenhim,andMilburghcame forwardwithhiscurious little shufflingwalk,a set smileonhis face, the same worried look in his eyes, which Tarling had seen oncebefore.

"Goodmorning,gentlemen,"hesaid,withaflourishofhistophat."Isuppose,Mr.Tarling,nothinghasbeendiscovered?"

"At any rate, I didn't expect to discover you here this morning!" smiledTarling."IthoughtyouwerebusyattheStores."

Milburghshifteduneasily.

"Theplacehasa fascination forme,"he saidhuskily, "I—Ican'tkeepawayfromit."

HedroppedhiseyesbeforeTarling'skeengazeandrepeatedthequestion.

"Isthereanyfreshnews?"

"Ioughttoaskyouthat,"saidTarlingquietly.

Theotherlookedup.

"YoumeanMissRider?" he asked. "No, sir, nothing has been found to herdetrimentandIcannottraceherpresentaddress,althoughIhavepursuedthemostdiligentinquiries.Itisveryupsetting."

Therewasanewemphasisinhisvoice.TarlingrememberedthatwhenLynehadspokentoMilburghbefore,andhadsuggestedthatthegirlhadbeenguiltyof some act of predation,Milburgh had been quick to deny the possibility.Now his manner was hostile to the girl—indefinitely so, but sufficientlymarkedforTarlingtonoticeit.

"Doyouthink thatMissRiderhadanyreasonforrunningaway?"asked thedetective.

Milburghshruggedhisshoulders.

"In this world," he said unctuously, "one is constantly being deceived bypeopleinwhomonehasputone'strust."

"Inotherwords,yoususpectMissRiderofrobbingthefirm?"

UpwentMr.Milburgh'splumphands.

"Iwouldnotsaythat,"hesaid."Iwouldnotaccuseayoungwomanofsuchanactoftreacherytoheremployers,andIdistinctlyrefusetomakeanychargesuntil the auditors have completed their work. There is no doubt," he addedcarefully,"thatMissRiderhadthehandlingoflargesumsofmoney,andsheofallpeopleinthebusiness,andparticularlyinthecashier'sdepartmentwouldhavebeenabletorobthefirmwithouttheknowledgeofeithermyselforpoorMr.Lyne.This,of course, is confidential."He laidonehandappealinglyonTarling'sarm,andthatworthynodded.

"Haveyouanyideawhereshewouldbe?"

AgainMilburghshookhishead.

"Theonlything—"hehesitatedandlookedintoTarling'seyes.

"Well?"askedthedetectiveimpatiently.

"There is a suggestion, of course, that shemay have gone abroad. I do notofferthatsuggestion,onlyIknowthatshespokeFrenchverywellandthatshehadbeentotheContinentbefore."

Tarlingstrokedhischinthoughtfully.

"To theContinent, eh?" he said softly. "Well, in that case I shall search theContinent;forononethingIamdetermined,andthatistofindOdetteRider,"and,beckoningtohiscompanion,heturnedonhisheelandlefttheobsequiousMr.Milburghstaringafterhim.

CHAPTERXTHEWOMANATASHFORD

Tarlingwentbacktohis lodgings thatafternoon,apuzzledandbaffledman.Ling Chu, his impassive Chinese servant, had observed those symptoms ofperplexity before, but now there was something new in his master'sdemeanour—akindofcurtirritation,ananxietywhichintheHunterofMenhadnotbeenobservedbefore.

TheChinamanwentsilentlyaboutthebusinessofpreparinghischief'steaandmadenoreferencetothetragedyortoanyofitsdetails.Hehadsetthetablebythesideofthebed,andwasglidingfromtheroominthatcat-likewayofhiswhenTarlingstoppedhim.

"LingChu,"hesaid,speakinginthevernacular,"yourememberinShanghaiwhenthe'CheerfulHearts'committedacrime,howtheyusedtoleavebehind

theirhong?"

"Yes, master, I remember it very well," said Ling Chu calmly. "They werecertain words on red paper, and afterwards you could buy them from theshops,becausepeopledesiredtohavethesesignstoshowtotheirfriends."

"Manypeoplecarriedthesethings,"saidTarlingslowly,"andthesignof the'CheerfulHearts'wasfoundinthepocketofthemurderedman."

LingChumettheother'seyeswithimperturbablecalmness.

"Master," he said, "may not the white-faced man who is now dead havebroughtsuchathingfromShanghai?Hewasatourist,andtouristsbuythesefoolishsouvenirs."

Tarlingnoddedagain.

"Thatispossible,"hesaid."Ihavealreadythoughtthatsuchmighthavebeenthe case. Yet, why should he have this sign of the 'Cheerful Hearts' in hispocketonthenighthewasmurdered?"

"Master,"saidtheChinaman,"whyshouldhehavebeenmurdered?"

Tarling'slipscurledinahalfsmile.

"BywhichIsupposeyoumeanthatonequestion isasdifficult toanswerastheother,"hesaid."Allright,LingChu,thatwilldo."

Hisprincipalanxietyforthemomentwasnotthis,oranyothercluewhichhadbeenoffered,butthediscoveryofOdetteRider'spresenthiding-place.Againand again he turned the problem over in his mind. At every point he wasbaffled by the wild improbability of the facts that he had discovered.WhyshouldOdetteRider be content to accept a servile position inLyne's StoreswhenhermotherwaslivinginluxuryatHertford?Whowasherfather—thatmysterious fatherwho appeared and disappeared atHertford, andwhat partdidheplayinthecrime?Andifshewasinnocent,whyhadshedisappearedsocompletely and in circumstances so suspicious? And what did Sam Stayknow?Theman'shatredofthegirlwasuncanny.Atthementionofhernameaveritable fountain of venom had bubbled up, and Tarling had sensed theabysmaldepthsofthisman'shateandsomethingofhisboundlessloveforthedeadman.

Heturnedimpatientlyonthecouchandreachedouthishandforhistea,whentherecameasofttapatthedoorandLingChuslippedintotheroom.

"TheBrightManishere,"hesaid,andinthesewordsannouncedWhiteside,whobroughtintotheroomsomethingofhisalert,freshpersonalitywhichhadearnedhimthepseudonymwhichLingChuhadaffixed.

"Well,Mr.Tarling,"saidtheInspector,takingoutalittlenotebook,"I'mafraidIhaven'tdoneverymuch in thewayofdiscovering themovementsofMissRider,butsofarasIcanfindoutbyinquiriesmadeatCharingCrossbookingoffice,severalyoungladiesunattendedhaveleftfortheContinentinthepastfewdays."

"YoucannotidentifyanyofthesewithMissRider?"askedTarlinginatoneofdisappointment.

The detective shook his head. Despite his apparent unsuccess, he hadevidently made some discovery which pleased him, for there was nothinggloomyinhisadmissionoffailure.

"You have found out something, though?" suggested Tarling quickly, andWhitesidenodded.

"Yes,"hesaid,"bythegreatestofluckI'vegotholdofaverycuriousstory.Iwaschattingwithsomeof the ticketcollectorsand trying todiscoveramanwhomighthaveseenthegirl—IhaveaphotographofhertakeninagroupofStoresemployees,andthisIhavehadenlarged,asitmaybeveryuseful."

Tarlingnodded.

"Whilst I was talking with the man on the gate," Whiteside proceeded, "atravelling ticket inspector came up and he brought rather an extraordinarystoryfromAshford.Onthenightof themurder therewasanaccident to theContinentalExpress."

"Irememberseeingsomethingaboutit,"saidTarling,"butmymindhasbeenoccupiedbythisothermatter.Whathappened?"

"Aluggagetruckwhichwasstandingontheplatformfellbetweentwoofthecarriagesandderailedoneofthem,"explainedWhiteside."Theonlypassengerwho was hurt was a Miss Stevens. Apparently it was a case of simpleconcussion,andwhenthetrainwasbroughttoastandstillshewasremovedtothe Cottage Hospital, where she is to-day. Apparently the daughter of thetravellingticketinspectorisanurseatthehospital,andshetoldherfatherthatthis Miss Stevens, before she recovered consciousness, made severalreferencestoa'Mr.Lyne'anda'Mr.Milburgh'!"

Tarlingwassittingerectnow,watchingtheotherthroughnarrowedlids.

"Goon,"hesaidquietly.

"Icouldgetvery little fromthe travelling inspector,except thathisdaughterwasundertheimpressionthattheladyhadagrudgeagainstMr.Lyne,andthatshespokeevenmoredisparaginglyofMr.Milburgh."

Tarlinghadrisenandslippedoffhissilkdressing-gownbeforetheothercouldput awayhisnotebook.He struckagongwithhisknuckles, andwhenLingChu appeared, gave him an order in Chinese, which Whiteside could notfollow.

"You'regoingtoAshford?Ithoughtyouwould,"saidWhiteside."Wouldyoulikemetocomealong?"

"No, thank you," said the other. "I'll go myself. I have an idea that MissStevensmaybe themissingwitness in thecaseandmay throwgreater lightuponthehappeningsof thenightbefore last thananyotherwitnesswehaveyetinterviewed."

HefoundhehadtowaitanhourbeforehecouldgetatrainforAshford,andhepassedthathourimpatientlywalkingupanddownthebroadplatform.Herewasanewcomplicationinthecase.WhowasMissStevens,andwhyshouldshebejourneyingtoDoveronthenightofthemurder?

He reached Ashford, and with difficulty found a cab, for it was rainingheavily,andhehadcomeprovidedwithneithermackintoshnorumbrella.

ThematronoftheCottageHospitalreassuredhimononepoint.

"Oh,yes,MissStevensisstillinthehospital,"shesaid,andhebreathedasighof relief.Therewas just a chance that shemight havebeendischarged, andagainthepossibilitythatshewouldbedifficulttotrace.

Thematronshowedhimthewaythroughalongcorridor,terminatinginabigward.Before reaching thedoorof theward therewasa smallerdooron theright.

"Weputherinthisprivateward,becausewethoughtitmightbenecessarytooperate,"saidthematronandopenedthedoor.

Tarlingwalked in.Facinghimwas thefootof thebed,and in thatbed layagirlwhoseeyesmethis.Hestoppeddeadas thoughhewereshotFor"MissStevens"wasOdetteRider!

CHAPTERXI"THORNTONLYNEISDEAD."

Foratimeneitherspoke.Tarlingwalkedslowlyforward,pulledachairtothesideofthebedandsatdown,neveroncetakinghiseyesoffthegirl.

OdetteRider! Thewoman forwhom the police of Englandwere searching,

againstwhomawarranthadbeen issuedonachargeofwilfulmurder—andhere, in a little countryhospital.Foramoment, andamomentonly,Tarlingwas in doubt. Had he been standing outside the case and watching it as adisinterested spectator, or had this girl never come so closely into his life,bringing a new and a disturbing influence so that the very balance of hisjudgmentwasupset,hewouldhavesaidthatshewasinhidingandhadchosenthis hospital for a safe retreat.Theverynameunderwhich shewaspassingwasfictitious—asuspiciouscircumstanceinitself.

Thegirl'seyesdidnotleavehis.Hereadintheircleardepthsahintofterrorandhisheartfell.HehadnotrealisedbeforethatthechiefincentivehefoundinthiscasewasnottodiscoverthemurdererofThorntonLyne,buttoprovethatthegirlwasinnocent.

"Mr. Tarling," she saidwith a queer little break in her voice, "I—I did notexpecttoseeyou."

Itwasalameopening,anditseemedallthemorefeebletohersinceshehadsocarefullyrehearsedthestatementshehadintendedmaking.Forherwakingmoments,sincetheaccident,hadbeenfilledwiththoughtsofthishard-facedman, what he would think, what he would say, and what, in certaineventualities,hewoulddo.

"Isupposenot,"saidTarlinggently."Iamsorrytohearyouhavehadratherashaking,MissRider."

Shenodded,andafaintsmileplayedaboutthecornersofhermouth.

"Itwasnothingverymuch,"shesaid."Ofcourse, itwasveryharriedatfirstand—whatdoyouwant?"

The lastwordswereblurtedout.Shecouldnotkeepup thefarceofapoliteconversation.

Therewasamoment'ssilence,andthenTarlingspoke.

"Iwantedtofindyou,"hesaid,speakingslowly,andagainhereadherfear.

"Well,"shehesitated,andthensaiddesperatelyandjustalittledefiantly,"youhavefoundme!"

Tarlingnodded.

"Andnowthatyouhavefoundme,"shewenton,speakingrapidly,"whatdoyouwant?"

Shewasrestingonherelbow,herstrainedfaceturnedtowardshim,hereyesslightlynarrowed,watchinghimwithanintensityofgazewhichbetrayedheragitation.

"Iwanttoaskyouafewquestions,"saidTarling,andslippedalittlenotebookfromhispocket,balancingituponhisknee.

Tohisdismaythegirlshookherhead.

"I don't know that I am prepared to answer your questions," she saidmorecalmly,"butthereisnoreasonwhyyoushouldnotaskthem."

Herewasanattitudewhollyunexpected.AndOdetteRiderpanic-strickenhecould understand. If she had burst into a fit of weeping, if she had grownincoherent in her terror, if she had been indignant or shame-faced—any ofthese displayswould have fitted inwith his conception of her innocence orapprehensionofherguilt.

"In the first place," he asked bluntly, "why are you here under the name ofMissStevens?"

Shethoughtamoment,thenshookherhead.

"ThatisaquestionIamnotpreparedtoanswer,"shesaidquietly.

"Iwon'tpressitforamoment,"saidTarling,"becauseIrealisethatitisboundupincertainotherextraordinaryactionsofyours,MissRider."

Thegirlflushedanddroppedhereyes,andTarlingwenton:

"Why did you leave London secretly, without giving your friends or yourmotheranyinklingofyourplans?"

Shelookedupsharply.

"Haveyouseenmother?"sheaskedquietly,andagainhereyesweretroubled.

"I'veseenyourmother,"saidTarling."Ihavealsoseenthetelegramyousenttoher.Come,MissRider,won'tyouletmehelpyou?Believeme,agreatdealmore depends upon your answers than the satisfaction ofmy curiosity.Youmustrealisehowveryseriousyourpositionis."

Hesawherlipsclosetightlyandsheshookherhead.

"Ihavenothingtosay,"shesaidwithacatchofherbreath."If—ifyouthinkIhave——"

Shestoppeddead.

"Finish your sentence," saidTarling sternly. "If I think you have committedthiscrime?"

Shenodded.

Heputawayhisnotebookbeforehespokeagain,and, leaningover thebed,

tookherhand.

"MissRider,Iwanttohelpyou,"hesaidearnestly,"andIcanhelpyoubestifyou'refrankwithme.ItellyouIdonotbelievethatyoucommittedthisact.Itell you now that though all the circumstances point to your guilt, I haveabsoluteconfidencethatyoucanproduceananswertothecharge."

Foramomenthereyesfilledwithtears,butshebitherlipandsmiledbravelyintohisface.

"That is good and sweet of you, Mr. Tarling, and I do appreciate yourkindness.ButIcan'ttellyouanything—Ican't,Ican't!"Shegrippedhiswristin her vehemence, and he thought shewas going to break down, but again,with an extraordinary effort ofwillwhich excited his secret admiration, shecontrolledherself.

"You'regoingtothinkverybadlyofme,"shesaid,"andIhatethethought,Mr.Tarling—youdon'tknowhowIhateit.IwantyoutothinkthatIaminnocent,butIamgoingtomakenoefforttoprovethatIwasnotguilty."

"You'remad!" he interrupted her roughly "Stark, ravingmad!Youmust dosomething,doyouhear?You'vegottodosomething."

Sheshookherhead,andthelittlehandwhichrestedonhisclosedgentlyabouttwoofhisfingers.

"Ican't,"shesaidsimply."Ijustcan't."

Tarling pushed back the chair from the bed. He could have groaned at thehopelessnessofthegirl'scase.Ifshehadonlygivenhimonethreadthatwouldleadhimtoanotherclue, ifsheonlyprotestedherinnocence!Hisheartsankwithinhim,andhecouldonlyshakehisheadhelplessly.

"Suppose," he said huskily, "that you are chargedwith this—crime.Do youmean to tell me that you will not produce evidence that could prove yourinnocence,thatyouwillmakenoattempttodefendyourself?"

Shenodded.

"Imeanthat,"shesaid.

"MyGod!Youdon'tknowwhatyou'resaying,"hecried,startingup."You'remad,Odette,starkmad!"

She only smiled for the fraction of a second, and that at the unconsciousemploymentofherChristianname.

"I'mnotatallmad,"shesaid."Iamverysane."

Shelookedathimthoughtfully,andthenofasuddenseemedtoshrinkback,

andherfacewentwhiter."You—youhaveawarrantforme!"shewhispered.

Henodded.

"Andyou'regoingtoarrestme?"

Heshookhishead.

"No,"hesaidbriefly."Iamleavingthattosomebodyelse.Ihavesickenedofthecase,andI'mgoingoutofit."

"Hesentyouhere,"shesaidslowly.

"He?"

"Yes—I remember.Youwereworkingwith him, or hewanted you toworkwithhim."

"Ofwhomareyouspeaking?"askedTarlingquickly.

"ThorntonLyne,"saidthegirl.

Tarlingleapedtohisfeetandstareddownather.

"ThorntonLyne?"herepeated."Don'tyouknow?"

"Knowwhat?"askedthegirlwithafrown.

"ThatThorntonLyneisdead,"saidTarling,"andthatitisforhismurderthatawarranthasbeenissuedforyourarrest?"

Shelookedathimforamomentwithwide,staringeyes.

"Dead!" she gasped. "Dead!ThorntonLyne dead!Youdon'tmean that, youdon'tmeanthat?"SheclutchedatTarling'sarm."Tellmethatisn'ttrue!Hedidnotdoit,hedarenotdoit!"

She swayed forward, and Tarling, dropping on his knees beside the bed,caughtherinhisarmsasshefainted.

CHAPTERXIITHEHOSPITALBOOK

WhilethenursewasattendingtothegirlTarlingsoughtaninterviewwiththemedicalofficerinchargeofthehospital.

"Idon'tthinkthere'sagreatdealthematterwithher,"saidthedoctor."Infact,shewasfitfordischargefromhospitaltwoorthreedaysago,anditwasonly

at her request that we let her stay. Do I understand that she is wanted inconnectionwiththeDaffodilMurder?"

"Asawitness,"saidTarlingglibly.Herealisedthathewassayingaridiculousthing,becausethefactthatawarrantwasoutforOdetteRidermusthavebeengenerally known to the local authorities.Her description had been carefullycirculated,andthatdescriptionmusthavecometotheheadsofhospitalsandpublicinstitutions.Thenextwordsofthedoctorconfirmedhisknowledge.

"Asawitness,eh?"hesaiddryly."Well,Idon'twanttopryintoyoursecrets,orratherintothesecretsofScotlandYard,butsheisfittotraveljustassoonasyoulike."

Therewasaknockonthedoor,andthematroncameintothedoctor'soffice.

"Miss Rider wishes to see you, sir," she said, addressing Tarling, and thedetective,takinguphishat,wentbacktothelittleward.

Hefoundthegirlmorecomposedbutstilldeathlywhite.Shewasoutofbed,sitting in a big arm chair, wrapped in a dressing-gown, and she motionedTarlingtopullupachairtoherside.Shewaiteduntilafterthedoorhadclosedbehindthenurse,thenshespoke.

"Itwasverysillyofmetofaint,Mr.Tarlingbutthenewswassohorribleandso unexpected.Won't you tell me all about it? You see, I have not read anewspaper since I have been in the hospital. I heard one of the nurses talkabouttheDaffodilMurder—thatisnotthe——"

She hesitated, and Tarling nodded. He was lighter of heart now, almostcheerful.Hehadnodoubtinhismindthatthegirlwasinnocent,andlifehadtakenonarosieraspect.

"ThorntonLyne,"hebegan,"wasmurderedonthenightofthe14th.Hewaslast seen alive by his valet about half-past nine in the evening. Early nextmorning his bodywas found inHydePark.He had been shot dead, and anefforthadbeenmadetostanchthewoundinhisbreastbybindingawoman'ssilknight-dressroundandroundhisbody.Onhisbreastsomebodyhadlaidabunchofdaffodils."

"Daffodils?"repeatedthegirlwonderingly."Buthow——"

"Hiscarwasdiscoveredahundredyardsfromtheplace,"Tarlingcontinued,"anditwasclearthathehadbeenmurderedelsewhere,broughttotheParkinhis car, and left on the sidewalk.At the time hewas discovered he had onneithercoatnorvest,andonhisfeetwereapairoflistslippers."

"ButIdon'tunderstand,"saidthebewilderedgirl."Whatdoesitmean?Whohad——" She stopped suddenly, and the detective saw her lips tighten

together,asthoughtorestrainherspeech.Thensuddenlyshecoveredherfacewithherhands.

"Oh,it'sterrible,terrible!"shewhispered."Ineverthought,Ineverdreamed—oh,itisterrible!"

Tarlinglaidhishandgentlyonhershoulder.

"MissRider," he said, "you suspect somebody of this crime.Won't you tellme?"

Sheshookherheadwithoutlookingup.

"Icansaynothing,"shesaid.

"But don't you see that suspicion will attach to you?" urged Tarling. "Atelegramwasdiscoveredamongsthisbelongings, askinghim to call at yourflatthatevening."

Shelookedupquickly.

"Atelegramfromme?"shesaid."Isentnotelegram."

"ThankGodforthat!"criedTarlingfervently."ThankGodforthat!"

"ButIdon'tunderstand,Mr.Tarling.AtelegramwassenttoMr.Lyneaskinghimtocometomyflat?Didhegotomyflat?"

Tarlingnodded.

"Ihavereasontobelievehedid,"hesaidgravely."Themurderwascommittedinyourflat."

"MyGod!"shewhispered."Youdon'tmeanthat!Oh,no,no,itisimpossible!"

Brieflyherecitedallhisdiscoveries.Heknewthathewasactinginamannerwhich,fromthepointofviewofpoliceethics,waswhollywronganddisloyal.Hewasplacingherinpossessionofallthecluesandgivingheranopportunitytomeetandrefutetheevidencewhichhadbeencollectedagainsther.Hetoldher of thebloodstains on the floor, anddescribed thenight-dresswhichhadbeenfoundaroundThorntonLyne'sbody.

"Thatwasmy night-dress," she said simply andwithout hesitation. "Go on,please,Mr.Tarling."

Hetoldherofthebloodythumb-printsuponthedoorofthebureau.

"Onyourbed,"hewenton,"Ifoundyourdressing-case,half-packed."

Sheswayedforward,andthrewoutherhands,gropingblindly.

"Oh,howwicked,howwicked!"shewailed"Hedidit,hedidit!"

"Who?"demandedTarling.

Hetookthegirlbytheshoulderandshookher.

"Whowastheman?Youmusttellme.Yourownlifedependsuponit.Don'tyousee,Odette,Iwanttohelpyou?Iwanttoclearyournameofthisterriblecharge.Yoususpectsomebody.Imusthavehisname."

Sheshookherheadandturnedherpatheticfacetohis.

"Ican'ttellyou,"shesaidinalowvoice."Icansaynomore.Iknewnothingofthemurderuntilyoutoldme.Ihadnoidea,nothought....IhatedThorntonLyne,Ihatedhim,butIwouldnothavehurthim...itisdreadful,dreadful!"

Presentlyshegrewcalmer.

"ImustgotoLondonatonce,"shesaid."Willyoupleasetakemeback?"

Shesawhisembarrassmentandwasquicktounderstanditscause.

"You—youhaveawarrant,haven'tyou?"

Henodded.

"Onthechargeof—murder?"

Henoddedagain.Shelookedathiminsilenceforsomemoments.

"Ishallbereadyinhalfanhour,"shesaid,andwithoutawordthedetectivelefttheroom.

He made his way back to the doctor's sanctum, and found that gentlemanawaitinghimimpatiently.

"I say," said thedoctor, "that's all bunkumabout thisgirl beingwantedas awitness.IhadmydoubtsandIlookeduptheScotlandYardwarningwhichIreceived a couple of days ago. She's Odette Rider, and she's wanted on achargeofmurder."

"Gotitfirsttime,"saidTarling,droppingwearilyintoachair."DoyoumindifIsmoke?"

"Notabit,"saidthedoctorcheerfully."Isupposeyou'retakingherwithyou?"

Tarlingnodded.

"Ican'timagineagirllikethatcommittingamurder,"saidDr.Saunders."Shedoesn't seem to possess the physique necessary to have carried out all theetceterasofthecrime.IreadtheparticularsintheMorningGlobe.ThepersonwhomurderedThorntonLynemusthavecarriedhimfromhiscarandlaidhimon the grass, orwherever hewas found—and that girl couldn't lift a large-

sizedbaby."

Tarlingjerkedhisheadinagreement.

"Besides,"Dr. Saunderswent on, "she hasn't the face of amurderer. I don'tmean tosay thatbecauseshe'sprettyshecouldn'tcommitacrime,but therearecertaintypesofprettinesswhichhavetheirorigininspiritualbeauty,andMissStevens,orRider,asIsupposeIshouldcallher,isoneofthattype."

"I'monewithyouthere,"saidTarling."Iamsatisfiedinmyownmindthatshedidnotcommitthecrime,butthecircumstancesareallagainsther."

The telephone bell jingled, and the doctor took up the receiver and spoke afewwords.

"A trunk call," he said, explaining the delay in receiving acknowledgmentfromtheotherendofthewire.

He spoke again into the receiver and then handed the instrument across thetabletoTarling.

"It'sforyou,"hesaid."IthinkitisScotlandYard."

Tarlingputthereceivertohisear.

"It isWhiteside," said a voice. "Is that you, Mr. Tarling?We've found therevolver."

"Where?"askedTarlingquickly.

"Inthegirl'sflat,"camethereply.

Tarling'sfacefell.Butafterall,thatwasnothingunexpected.Hehadnodoubtinhismindatall that themurderhadbeencommitted inOdetteRider's flat,and,ifthattheorywereaccepted,thedetailswereunimportant,astherewasnoreasonintheworldwhythepistolshouldnotbealsofoundnearthesceneofthecrime.Infact,itwouldhavebeenremarkableiftheweaponhadnotbeendiscoveredonthosepremises.

"Wherewasit?"heasked.

"In the lady's work-basket," said Whiteside. "Pushed to the bottom andcoveredwithalotofwoolandoddsandendsoftape."

"Whatsortofarevolverisit?"askedTarlingafterapause.

"A Colt automatic," was the reply. "There were six live cartridges in themagazineandone in thebreach.Thepistolhadevidentlybeen fired, for thebarrelwasfoul.We'vealsofoundthespentbullet in thefireplace.HaveyoufoundyourMissStevens?"

"Yes,"saidTarlingquietly."MissStevensisOdetteRider."

Heheardtheother'swhistleofsurprise.

"Haveyouarrestedher?"

"Notyet,"saidTarling."WillyoumeetthenexttraininfromAshford?Ishallbeleavinghereinhalfanhour."

Hehungupthereceiverandturnedtothedoctor.

"Igatherthey'vefoundtheweapon,"saidtheinterestedmedico.

"Yes,"repliedTarling,"theyhavefoundtheweapon."

"Humph!" said the doctor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A pretty badbusiness."Helookedattheothercuriously."WhatsortofamanwasThorntonLyne?"heasked.

Tarlingshruggedhisshoulders.

"Not the best ofmen, I'm afraid," he said; "but even the worst ofmen areprotectedbythelaw,andthepunishmentwhichwillfalltothemurderer——"

"Ormurderess,"smiledthedoctor.

"Murderer,"saidTarlingshortly."Thepunishmentwillnotbeaffectedbythecharacterofthedeadman."

Dr.Saunderspuffedsteadilyathispipe.

"It'srumagirllikethatbeingmixedupinacaseofthisdescription,"hesaid."Mostextraordinary."

Therewasalittletapatthedoorandthematronappeared.

"MissStevensisready,"shesaid,andTarlingrose.

Dr.Saunders rosewithhim, and,going to a shelf tookdowna large ledger,andplacingitonhistable,openeditandtookupapen.

"I shall have to mark her discharge," he said, turning over the leaves, andrunninghisfingerdownthepage."Heresheis—MissStevens,concussionandshock."

He looked at the writing under his hand and then lifted his eyes to thedetective.

"Whenwasthismurdercommitted?"heasked.

"Onthenightofthefourteenth."

"On thenightof the fourteenth?" repeated thedoctor thoughtfully. "Atwhat

time?"

"The hour is uncertain," said Tarling, impatient and anxious to finish hisconversationwiththisgossipingsurgeon;"sometimeaftereleven."

"Some time after eleven," repeated the doctor. "It couldn't have beencommittedbefore.Whenwasthemanlastseenalive?"

"Athalf-past nine," saidTarlingwith a little smile. "You're not going in forcriminalinvestigation,areyou,doctor?"

"Not exactly," smiled Saunders. "Though I am naturally pleased to be in apositiontoprovethegirl'sinnocence."

"Proveherinnocence?Whatdoyoumean?"demandedTarlingquickly.

"Themurdercouldnothavebeencommittedbeforeeleveno'clock.Thedeadmanwaslastseenaliveathalf-pastnine."

"Well?"saidTarling.

"Well," repeated Dr. Saunders, "at nine o'clock the boat train left CharingCross,andathalf-pasttenMissRiderwasadmittedtothishospitalsufferingfromshockandconcussion."

ForamomentTarlingsaidnothinganddidnothing.Hestoodasthoughturnedto stone, staring at the doctor with open mouth. Then he lurched forward,grippedtheastonishedmedicalmanbythehand,andwrungit.

"That'sthebestbitofnewsIhavehadinmylife,"hesaidhuskily.

CHAPTERXIIITWOSHOTSINTHENIGHT

ThejourneybacktoLondonwasonethedetailsofwhichwereregisteredwithphotographicrealisminTarling'smindfortherestofhis life.Thegirlspokelittle, and he himselfwas content tomeditate and turn over in hismind thepuzzlingcircumstanceswhichhadsurroundedOdetteRider'sflight.

Intheverysilenceswhichoccurredbetweentheinterchangesofconversationwasacomradeshipandasympatheticunderstandingwhichboththemanandthegirlwouldhavefounditdifficult todefine.Washe in lovewithher?Hewasshockedatthepossibilityofsuchacatastropheovertakinghim.Lovehadnevercomeintohis life. Itwasahypotheticalconditionwhichhehadneverevenconsidered.Hehadknownmentofallinlove,justashehadknownmen

to suffer from malaria or yellow fever, without considering that the sameexperiencemight overtake him.A shy, reticentman, behind that hardmaskwasadiffidenceunsuspectedbyhisclosestfriends.

SothatthepossibilityofbeinginlovewithOdetteRiderdisturbedhismind,because he lacked sufficient conceit to believe that such a passion could beanythingbuthopeless.Thatanywomancouldlovehimhecouldnotconceive.Andnowherverypresence,thefragrantnearnessofher,atoncesoothedandalarmedhim.Herewasadetectivevirtuallyinchargeofawomansuspectedofmurder—and he was frightened of her! He knew the warrant in his pocketwouldneverbeexecuted,andthatScotlandYardwouldnotproceedwiththeprosecution,because,thoughScotlandYardmakessomebigerrors,itdoesnotliketohaveitserrorsmadepublic.

Thejourneywasalltooshort,anditwasnotuntilthetrainwasrunningslowlythrough a thin fogwhich had descended on London that he returned to thesubjectofthemurder,andonlythenwithaneffort.

"Iamgoingtotakeyoutoanhotelforthenight,"hesaid,"andinthemorningIwillaskyoutocomewithmetoScotlandYardtotalktotheChief."

"ThenIamnotarrested?"shesmiled.

"No,Idon'tthinkyou'rearrested."Hesmiledresponsively."ButI'mafraidthatyouaregoingtobeaskedanumberofquestionswhichmaybedistressingtoyou.Yousee,MissRider,youractionshavebeenverysuspicious.Youleavefor theContinentunder anassumedname, andundoubtedly themurderwascommittedinyourflat."

Sheshivered.

"Please,pleasedon'ttalkaboutthat,"shesaidinalowvoice.

Hefeltabrute,butheknewthatshemustundergoanexaminationatthehandsofmenwhohadlessregardforherfeelings.

"Idowishyouwouldbefrankwithme,"hepleaded."IamsureIcouldgetyououtofallyourtroubleswithoutanydifficulty."

"Mr.Lynehatedme,"shesaid."IthinkItouchedhimonhistenderestspot—poorman—hisvanity.Youyourselfknowhowhesentthatcriminaltomyflatinordertocreateevidenceagainstme."

Henodded.

"DidyouevermeetStaybefore?"heasked.

Sheshookherhead.

"IthinkIhaveheardofhim,"shesaid."IknowthatMr.Lynewasinterestedinacriminal,andthatthiscriminalworshippedhim.OnceMr.Lynebroughthimto theStoresandwanted togivehima jobbut themanwouldnotaccept it.Mr.LyneoncetoldmethatSamStaywoulddoanythingintheworldforhim."

"Stay thinks you committed the murder," said Tarling bluntly. "Lyne hasevidentlytoldstoriesaboutyouandyourhatredforhim,andIreallythinkthatStaywouldhavebeenmoredangeroustoyouthanthepolice,onlyfortunatelythelittlecrookhasgoneoffhishead."

Shelookedathiminastonishment.

"Mad?"sheasked."Poorfellow!Hasthisawfulthingdrivenhim..."

Tarlingnodded.

"HewastakentotheCountyAsylumthismorning.Hehadafitinmyoffice,and when he recovered he seemed to have lost his mind completely. Now,MissRider,you'regoingtobefrankwithme,aren'tyou?"

Shelookedathimagainandsmiledsadly.

"I'mafraidIshan'tbeanymorefrankthanIhavebeen,Mr.Tarling,"shesaid."IfyouwantmetotellyouwhyIassumedthenameofStevens,orwhyIranawayfromLondon, Icannot tellyou. Ihadagoodreason——"shepaused,"andImayyethaveabetterreasonforrunningaway...."

Shenearlysaid"again"butcheckedtheword.

Helaidhishandonhers.

"WhenItoldyouofthismurder,"hesaidearnestly,"Iknewbyyoursurpriseand agitation that youwere innocent.Later the doctorwas able to prove analibi which cannot be shaken. But, Miss Rider, when I surprised you, youspokeasthoughyouknewwhocommittedthecrime.Youspokeofamananditisthatman'snameIwant."

Sheshookherhead.

"ThatIshallnevertellyou,"shesaidsimply.

"Butdon'tyourealisethatyoumaybechargedwithbeinganaccessorybeforeorafter theact?"heurged."Don'tyouseewhat itmeans toyouandtoyourmother?"

Hereyesclosedatthementionofhermother'sname,asthoughtoshutoutthevisionofsomeunpleasantpossibility.

"Don'ttalkaboutit,don'ttalkaboutit!"shemurmured,"please,Mr.Tarling!Doasyouwish.Letthepolicearrestmeortrymeorhangme—butdonotask

metosayanymore,becauseIwillnot,Iwillnot!"

Tarlingsankbackamongstthecushions,baffledandbewildered,andnomorewassaid.

Whitesidewaswaiting for the train, andwith himwere twomenwhowereunmistakablybranded"ScotlandYard."Tarlingdrewhimasideandexplainedthesituationinafewwords.

"Underthecircumstances,"hesaid,"Ishallnotexecutethewarrant."

Whitesideagreed.

"Itisquiteimpossiblethatshecouldhavecommittedthemurder,"hesaid."Isupposethedoctor'sevidenceisunshakable?"

"Absolutely," said Tarling, "and it is confirmed by the station master atAshford, who has the time of the accident logged in his diary, and himselfassistedtoliftthegirlfromthetrain."

"WhydidshecallherselfMissStevens?"askedWhiteside."AndwhatinducedhertoleaveLondonsohurriedly?"

Tarlinggaveadespairinggesture.

"ThatisoneofthethingsIshouldliketoknow,"hesaid,"andtheverymatteruponwhichMissRiderrefusestoenlightenme.Iamtakinghertoanhotel,"hewenton."To-morrowIwillbringherdowntotheYard.ButIdoubtiftheChiefcansayanythingthatwillinducehertotalk."

"Was she surprised when you told her of the murder? Did she mentionanybody'sname?"askedWhiteside.

Tarlinghesitated,andthen,foroneofthefewtimesinhislife,helied.

"No,"hesaid,"shewasjustupset...shementionednobody."

Hetookthegirlbytaxitothequietlittlehotelhehadchosen—ajourneynotwithoutitsthrills,forthefogwasnowthick—andsawhercomfortablyfixed.

"Ican'tbesufficientlygratefultoyou,Mr.Tarling,foryourkindness,"shesaidatparting"andifIcouldmakeyourtaskanyeasier...Iwould."

Hesawaspasmofpainpassacrossherface.

"Idon'tunderstandityet;itseemslikeabaddream,"shesaidhalftoherself."Idon'twanttounderstanditsomehow...Iwanttoforget,Iwanttoforget!"

"Whatdoyouwanttoforget?"askedTarling.

Sheshookherhead.

"Don'taskme,"shesaid."Please,please,don'taskme!"

Hewalkeddownthebigstairway,agreatlyworriedman.Hehadleftthetaxiatthedoor.Tohissurprisehefoundthecabhadgone,andturnedtotheporter.

"Whathappenedtomytaxi?"hesaid."Ididn'tpayhimoff."

"Your taxi, sir?" said the head porter. "I didn't see it go. I'll ask one of theboys."

As assistant porter who had been in the street told a surprising tale. Agentleman had come up out of the murk, had paid off the taxi, which haddisappeared.Thewitnesstothisproceedinghadnotseenthegentleman'sface.All he knew was that this mysterious benefactor had walked away in anoppositedirectiontothatinwhichthecabhadgone,andhadvanishedintothenight.

Tarlingfrowned.

"That'scurious,"hesaid."Getmeanothertaxi."

"I'mafraidyou'llfindthatdifficult,sir."Thehotelportershookhishead."Youseehowthe fog is—wealwaysget themthickabouthere—it's rather late intheyearforfogs..."

Tarlingcutshorthislectureonmeteorology,buttoneduphiscoat,andturnedoutofthehotelinthedirectionofthenearestundergroundstation.

The hotel towhich he had taken the girlwas situated in a quiet residentialstreet,andatthishourofthenightthestreetwasdeserted,andthefogaddedsomethingtoitsnormalloneliness.

TarlingwasnotparticularlywellacquaintedwithLondon,buthehadaroughideaofdirection.Thefogwasthick,buthecouldseetheblurrednimbusofastreetlamp,andwasmidwaybetweentwoofthesewhenheheardasoftstepbehindhim.

It was the faintest shuffle of sound, and he turned quickly. Instinctively hethrewuphishandsandsteppedaside.

Somethingwhizzedpasthisheadandstruckthepavementwithathud.

"Sandbag,"henotedmentally,andleaptathisassailant.

Asquicklyhisunknownattackerjumpedback.Therewasadeafeningreport.Hisfeetwerescorchedwithburningcordite,andmomentarilyhereleasedhisgripofhisenemy'sthroat,whichhehadseized.

He sensed rather than saw the pistol raised again, and made one of thoselightningfallswhichhehadlearntinfar-offdaysfromJapaneseinstructorsof

ju-jitsu.Headoverheelshewentasthepistolexplodedforthesecondtime.Itwas a clever trick, designed to bring the full force of his foot against hisopponent'sknee.Butthemysteriousstrangerwastooquickforhim,andwhenTailingleapttohisfeethewasalone.

But he had seen the face—big andwhite and vengeful. It was glimpse andguess-work,buthewassatisfiedthatheknewhisman.

Heraninthedirectionhethoughtthewould-beassassinmusthavetaken,butthe fog was patchy and he misjudged. He heard the sound of hurryingfootstepsandrantowardsthem,onlytofindthatitwasapolicemanattractedbythesoundofshots.

Theofficerhadmetnobody.

"Hemust have gone the other way," said Tarling, and raced off in pursuit,without,however,comingupwithhisattacker.

Slowlyheretracedhisfootstepstowherehehadleftthepolicemansearchingthepavementforsamecluewhichwouldidentifytheassailantofthenight.

The constablewasusing a small electric lampwhichhehad taken fromhispocket.

"Nothinghere,sir,"hesaid."Onlythisbitofredpaper."

Tarling took thesmall squareofpaper fromtheman'shandandexamined itunderthelightofthelamp—aredsquareonwhichwerewrittenfourwordsinChinese:"Hebroughtthistroubleuponhimself."

Itwas thesame inscriptionashadbeenfoundneatly folded in thewaistcoatpocketofThorntonLynethatmorninghewasdiscoveredlyingstarklydead.

CHAPTERXIVTHESEARCHOFMILBURGH'SCOTTAGE

Mr.Milburgh had a little house in one of the industrial streets of CamdenTown. It was a streetmade up for themost part of blankwalls, pierced atintervalswithgreatgates,throughwhichonecouldprocureattimesaviewofgauntfactoriesandsmoky-lookingchimney-stacks.

Mr.Milburgh'shousewastheonlyresidenceintheroad,ifoneexceptedthequartersofcaretakersandmanagers,anditwasagreedbyallwhosawhistinydemesne,thatMr.Milburghhadagoodlandlord.

The"house"wasadetachedcottage in abouthalf anacreofground, aone-storeybuilding,monopolisingthespacewhichmighthavebeenoccupiedbyfactoryextension.Boththefactorytotherightandthelefthadmadegenerousoffers toacquire theground,butMr.Milburgh's landlordhadbeenadamant.There were people who suggested that Mr. Milburgh's landlord was Mr.Milburgh himself. But how could that be? Mr. Milburgh's salary wassomethingunder£400ayear,andthecottagesitewasworthatleast£4,000.

CanveyCottage, as itwas called, stood back from the road, behind a lawn,innocentofflowers,andthelawnitselfwasprotectedfromintrusionbyhighiron railingswhichMr.Milburgh's landlord had had erected at considerablecost. To reach the house it was necessary to pass through an iron gate andtraverseastone-flaggedpathtothedoorofthecottage.

On the nightwhenTarling of ScotlandYardwas the victimof amurderousassault, Mr. Milburgh unlocked the gate and passed through, locking anddouble-locking thegatebehindhim.Hewasalone,and,aswashiswont,hewas whistling a sad little refrain which had neither beginning nor end. Hewalked slowly up the stone pathway, unlocked the door of his cottage, andstoodonlyamomenton thedoorstep tosurvey thegrowingthicknessof thenight,beforeheclosedandboltedthedoorandswitchedontheelectriclight.

Hewasinatinyhallway,plainlybutnicelyfurnished.ThenoteofluxurywasstruckbytheZohnetchingswhichhungonthewall,andwhichMr.Milburghstopped to regard approvingly.He hung up his coat and hat, slipped off thegaloshes hewaswearing (for itwaswet underfoot), and, passing through adoor which opened from the passage, came to his living room. The samesimplenoteoffurnitureanddecorationwasobservablehere.Thefurniturewasgood,thecarpetunderhisfeetthickandluxurious.Hesnickeddownanotherswitchandanelectricradiatorglowedinthefireplace.Thenhesatdownatthebigtable,whichwasthemostconspicuousarticleoffurnitureintheroom.Itwas practically covered with orderly little piles of paper, most of themencircledwithrubberbands.Hedidnotattempttotouchorreadthem,butsatlookingmoodilyathisblotting-pad,preoccupiedandabsent.

Presentlyherosewithalittlegrunt,and,crossingtheroom,unlockedaverycommonplace and old-fashioned cupboard, the top of which served as asideboard.Fromthecupboardhetookadozenlittlebooksandcarriedthemtothetable.Theywereofuniformsizeandeachborethefiguresofayear.Theyappeared to be, and indeedwere, diaries, but theywere notMr.Milburgh'sdiaries.OnedayhechancedtogointoThorntonLyne'sroomattheStoresandhad seen these books arrayed on a steel shelf of Lyne's private safe. Theproprietor's room overlooked the ground floor of the Stores, and ThorntonLyne at the time was visible to his manager, and could not under any

circumstances surprisehim, soMr.Milburghhad takenout onevolumeandread, with more than ordinary interest, the somewhat frank and expansivediarywhichThorntonLynehadkept.

Hehadonlyreadafewpagesonthatoccasion,butlaterhehadanopportunityof perusing the whole year's record, and had absorbed a great deal ofinformation which might have been useful to him in the future, had notThorntonLynemethisuntimelyendatthehandsofanunknownmurderer.

OnthedaywhenThorntonLyne'sbodywasdiscoveredinHydeParkwithawoman'snight-dresswrappedaround thewound inhisbreast,Mr.Milburghhad,forreasonsofexpediencyandassistedbyaduplicatekeyofLyne'ssafe,removed thosediaries toa saferplace.Theycontainedagreatdeal thatwasunpleasantforMr.Milburgh,particularlythecurrentdiary,forThorntonLynehadsetdownnotonlyhisexperiences,buthisdailyhappenings,histhoughts,poeticalandotherwise,andhadstatedveryexactlyandinlibelloustermshissuspicionsofhismanager.

ThediaryprovidedMr.Milburghwithagreatdealofveryinterestingreadingmatter,andnowheturnedto thepagewherehehadleftoff thenightbeforeand continued his study. It was a page easy to find, because he had thrustbetweentheleavesathinenvelopeofforeignmakecontainingcertainslipsofpaper,andashetookouthisimprovisedbookmarkathoughtseemedtostrikehim, and he felt carefully in his pocket. He did not discover the thing forwhichhewassearching,andwithasmilehelaidtheenvelopecarefullyonthetable,andwentonatthepointwherehisstudieshadbeeninterrupted.

"Lunched at the London Hotel and dozed away the afternoon. Weatherfearfully hot. Had arranged to make a call upon a distant cousin—a mannamedTarling—whoisinthepoliceforceatShanghai,buttoomuchofafag.SpenteveningatChuHan'sdancinghall.GotveryfriendlywithaprettylittleChinese girl who spoke pigeon English. Am seeing her to-morrow at LingFoo's.Sheiscalled'TheLittleNarcissus.'Icalledher'MyLittleDaffodil'—"

Mr.Milburghstoppedinhisreading.

"LittleDaffodil!"herepeated,thenlookedattheceilingandpinchedhisthicklips."LittleDaffodil!"hesaidagain,andabigsmiledawnedonhisface.

Hewasstillengagedinreadingwhenabellshrilledinthehall.Herosetohisfeet and stood listening and the bell rang again. He switched off the light,pulledaside the thickcurtainwhichhid thewindow,andpeeredout throughthefog.Hecould justdistinguish in the lightof thestreet lamptwoor threemen standingat thegate.He replaced the curtain, turnedup the light again,took thebooks inhisarmsanddisappearedwith theminto thecorridor.Theroomatthebackwashisbedroom,andintothishewent,makingnoresponse

totherepeatedjingleofthebellforfullyfiveminutes.

At theendof that timehe reappeared,butnowhewas inhispyjamas,overwhichheworeaheavydressing-gown.Heunlockedthedoor,andshuffledinhisslippersdownthestonepathwaytothegate.

"Who'sthat?"heasked.

"Tarling.Youknowme,"saidavoice.

"Mr. Tarling?" said Milburgh in surprise. "Really this is an unexpectedpleasure.Comein,comein,gentlemen."

"Openthegate,"saidTarlingbriefly.

"Excuse me while I go and get the key," said Milburgh. "I didn't expectvisitorsatthishourofthenight."

He went into the house, took a good look round his room, and thenreappeared,takingthekeyfromthepocketofhisdressing-gown.Ithadbeenthereall the time, if the truthbe told,butMr.Milburghwasacautiousmanandtookfewrisks.

Tarling was accompanied by Inspector Whiteside and another man, whomMilburgh rightly supposed was a detective. Only Tarling and the Inspectoracceptedhisinvitationtostepinside,thethirdmanremainingonguardatthegate.

Milburghledthewaytohiscosysitting-room.

"Ihavebeeninbedsomehours,andI'msorrytohavekeptyousolong."

"Your radiator is still warm," said Tarling quietly, stooping to feel the littlestove.

Mr.Milburghchuckled.

"Isn't thatcleverofyou todiscover that?"hesaidadmiringly."Thefact is, IwassosleepywhenIwenttobed,severalhoursago,thatIforgottoturntheradiator off, and it was only when I came down to answer the bell that IdiscoveredIhadleftitswitchedon."

Tarlingstoopedandpickedthebuttendofacigaroutofthehearth.Itwasstillalight.

"You'vebeensmokinginyoursleep,Mr.Milburgh,"hesaiddryly.

"No, no," said the airy Mr. Milburgh. "I was smoking that when I camedownstairstoletyouin.IinstinctivelyputacigarinmymouththemomentIwakeupinthemorning.Itisadisgracefulhabit,andreallyisoneofmyfew

vices,"headmitted."IthrewitdownwhenIturnedouttheradiator."

Tarlingsmiled.

"Won'tyousitdown?"saidMilburgh,seatinghimselfintheleastcomfortableofthechairs."Yousee,"hissmilewasapologeticashewavedhishandtothetable, "thework is frightfully heavy now that poorMr. Lyne is dead. I amobligedtobringithome,andIcanassureyou,Mr.Tarling,thattherearesomenightswhenIworktilldaylight,gettingthingsreadyfortheauditor."

"Doyouevertakeexercise?"askedTarlinginnocently."Littlenightwalksinthefogforthebenefitofyourhealth?"

ApuzzledfrowngatheredonMilburgh'sface.

"Exercise,Mr. Tarling?" he said with an air ofmystification. "I don't quiteunderstandyou.Naturally I shouldn'twalkoutonanight like this.Whatanextraordinaryfogforthistimeoftheyear!"

"DoyouknowPaddingtonatall?"

"No," said Mr. Milburgh, "except that there is a station there which Isometimesuse.Butperhapsyouwillexplaintomethemeaningofthisvisit?"

"Themeaningis,"saidTarlingshortly,"thatIhavebeenattackedto-nightbyamanofyourbuildandheight,whofiredtwiceatmeatclosequarters.Ihaveawarrant—"Mr.Milburgh's eyes narrowed—"I have awarrant to search thishouse."

"Forwhat?"demandedMilburghboldly.

"ForarevolveroranautomaticpistolandanythingelseIcanfind."

Milburghrose.

"You'reatlibertytosearchthehousefromendtoend,"hesaid."Happily,itisasmallone,asmysalarydoesnotallowofanexpensiveestablishment."

"Doyouliveherealone?"askedTarling.

"Quite," repliedMilburgh. "A woman comes in at eight o'clock to-morrowmorning to cookmy breakfast andmake the place tidy, but I sleep here bymyself.Iamverymuchhurt,"hewasgoingon.

"Youwillbehurtmuchworse,"saidTarlingdrylyandproceededtothesearch.

Itprovedtobeadisappointingone,fortherewasnotraceofanyweapon,andcertainly no trace of the little red slips which he had expected to find inMilburgh'spossession.Forhewasnotsearchingforthemanwhohadassailedhim,butforthemanwhohadkilledThorntonLyne.

Hecamebacktothelittlesitting-roomwhereMilburghhadbeenleftwiththeInspectorandapparentlyhewasunruffledbyhisfailure.

"Now,Mr.Milburgh,"hesaidbrusquely,"Iwant toaskyou:Haveyoueverseenapieceofpaperlikethisbefore?"

He took a slip from his pocket and spread it on the table.Milburgh lookedhardattheChinesecharactersonthecrimsonsquare,andthennodded.

"Youhave?"saidTarlinginsurprise.

"Yes,sir,"saidMr.Milburghcomplacently."IshouldbetellinganuntruthifIsaidIhadnot.Nothingismorerepugnanttomethantodeceiveanybody."

"ThatIcanimagine,"saidTarling.

"Iamsorryyouaresarcastic,Mr.Tarling,"saidthereproachfulMilburgh,"butIassureyouthatIhateandloatheanuntruth."

"Wherehaveyouseenthesepapers?"

"OnMr.Lyne'sdesk,"wasthesurprisinganswer

"OnLyne'sdesk?"

Milburghnodded.

"ThelateMr.ThorntonLyne,"hesaid,"camebackfromtheEastwithagreatnumberofcurios,andamongstthemwereanumberofslipsofpapercoveredwithChinesecharacterssimilartothis.IdonotunderstandChinese,"hesaid,"becauseIhaveneverhadoccasiontogotoChina.Thecharactersmayhavebeendifferentonefromtheother,buttomyunsophisticatedeyetheyalllookalike."

"You'veseentheseslipsonLyne'sdesk?"saidTarling."Thenwhydidyounottell the police before? You know that the police attach a great deal ofimportancetothediscoveryofoneofthesethingsinthedeadman'spocket?"

Mr.Milburghnodded.

"ItisperfectlytruethatIdidnotmentionthefacttothepolice,"hesaid,"butyouunderstandMr.TarlingthatIwasverymuchupsetbythesadoccurrence,which drove everything else out of my mind. It would have been quitepossiblethatyouwouldhavefoundoneortwoofthesestrangeinscriptionsinthisveryhouse."Hesmiledinthedetective'sface."Mr.Lynewasveryfondofdistributing the curioshebrought from theEast tohis friends," hewent on."He gaveme that dagger you see hanging on thewall, which he bought atsomeoutlandishplaceinhistravels.Hemayhavegivenmeasampleoftheseslips. I remember his tellingme a story about them,which I cannot for the

momentrecall."

He would have continued retailing reminiscences of his late employer, butTarling cut him short, and with a curt good night withdrew. Milburghaccompanied him to the front gate and locked the door upon the threemenbeforehewentbacktohissitting-roomsmilingquietlytohimself.

"IamcertainthatthemanwasMilburgh,"saidTarling."IamascertainasthatIamstandinghere."

"Haveyouanyideawhyheshouldwanttooutyou?"askedWhiteside.

"Noneintheworld,"repliedTarling."Evidentlymyassailantwasamanwhohadwatchedmymovementsandhadprobablyfollowedthegirlandmyselftothehotelinacab.WhenIdisappearedinsidehedismissedhisownandthentookthecourseofdismissingmycab,whichhecouldeasilydobypayingtheman his fare and sending him off. A cabman would accept that dismissalwithoutsuspicion.Hethenwaitedformeinthefogandfollowedmeuntilhegotmeintoaquietpartoftheroad,wherehefirstattemptedtosandbagandthentoshootme."

"Butwhy?"askedWhitesideagain."SupposeMilburghknewsomethingaboutthismurder—whichisverydoubtful—whatbenefitwoulditbetohimtohaveyouputoutoftheway?"

"IfIcouldanswerthatquestion,"repliedTarlinggrimly,"IcouldtellyouwhokilledThorntonLyne."

CHAPTERXVTHEOWNEROFTHEPISTOL

AlltraceofthefogofthenightbeforehaddisappearedwhenTarlinglookedout from his bedroomwindow later thatmorning. The streetswere floodedwithyellowsunshine,andtherewasatangintheairwhichbroughtthecolourtothecheekandlighttotheeyeofthepatientLondoner.

Tarlingstretchedhisarmsandyawnedinthesheerluxuryofliving,beforehetookdownhissilkdressing-gownandwentintothebreakfastwhichLingChuhadlaidforhim.

Theblue-blousedChinamanwhostoodbehindhismaster'schair,pouredouttheteaandlaidanewspaperononesideoftheplateandlettersontheother.Tarlingatehisbreakfastinsilenceandpushedawaytheplate.

"LingChu,"hesaidinthevernacularofLowerChina,"IshalllosemynameastheManHunter,forthiscasepuzzlesmebeyondanyother."

"Master,"saidtheChinamaninthesamelanguage,"thereisatimeinallcases,when thehunter feels that hemust stop andweep. Imyself had this feelingwhen I hunted down Wu Fung, the strangler of Hankow. Yet," he addedphilosophically, "one day I found him and he is sleeping on the Terrace ofNight."

HeemployedthebeautifulChinesesimilefordeath.

"YesterdayIfoundthelittle-young-woman,"saidTarlingafterapause.InthisquaintwaydidherefertoOdetteRider.

"Youmayfindthelittle-young-womanandyetnotfindthekiller,"saidLingChu,standingbythesideofthetable,hishandsrespectfullyhiddenunderhissleeves."Forthelittle-young-womandidnotkillthewhite-facedman."

"Howdoyouknow?"askedTarling;andtheChinamanshookhishead.

"The little-young-woman has no strength, master," he said. "Also it is notknownthatshehasskillinthedrivingofthequickcart."

"Youmeanthemotor?"askedTarlingquickly,andLingChunodded.

"By Jove! I never thoughtof that," saidTarling. "Of course,whoeverkilledThorntonLynemusthaveputhisbodyinthecaranddrivenhimtothePark.Buthowdoyouknowthatshedoesnotdrive?"

"Because Ihaveasked," said theChinamansimply. "Manypeopleknow thelittle-young-womanat thegreatStoreswherethewhite-facedmanlived,andtheyallsaythatshedoesnotdrivethequickcart."

Tarlingconsideredforawhile.

"Yes,itistruetalk,"hesaid."Thelittle-young-womandidnotkillthewhite-faced man, because she was many miles away when the murder wascommitted.Thatweknow.Thequestionis,whodid?"

"TheHunterofMenwilldiscover,"saidLingChu

"Iwonder,"saidTarling.

He dressed and went to Scotland Yard. He had an appointment withWhiteside, and later intended accompanying Odette Rider to an interviewbefore the Assistant Commissioner.Whiteside was at Scotland Yard beforehim, and when Tarling walked into his room was curiously examining anobject which lay before him on a sheet of paper. It was a short-barrelledautomaticpistol.

"Hullo!"hesaid,interested."IsthatthegunthatkilledThorntonLyne?"

"That'stheweapon,"saidthecheerfulWhiteside."Anugly-lookingbrute,isn'tit?"

"Wheredidyousayitwasdiscovered?"

"Atthebottomofthegirl'swork-basket."

"Thishasafamiliarlooktome,"saidTarling,liftingtheinstrumentfromthetable."By-the-way,isthecartridgestillinthechamber?"

Whitesideshookhishead.

"No,Iremovedit,"hesaid."I'vetakenthemagazineouttoo."

"I suppose you've sent out the description and the number to all thegunsmiths?"

Whitesidenodded.

"Not that it's likely tobeofmuchuse,"hesaid."This isanAmerican-madepistol, and unless it happens to have been sold inEngland there is preciouslittlechanceofourdiscoveringitsowner."

Tarling was looking at the weapon, turning it over and over in his hand.Presently he looked at the butt and uttered an exclamation. Following thedirection of his eyes, Whiteside saw two deep furrows running diagonallyacrossthegrip.

"Whatarethey?"heasked.

"Theylookliketwobulletsfiredattheholderoftherevolversomeyearsago,whichmissedhimbutcaughtthebutt."

Whitesidelaughed.

"Isthatapieceofyourdeduction,Mr.Tarling?"heasked.

"No,"saidTarling,"thatisabitoffact.Thatpistolismyown!"

CHAPTERXVITHEHEIR

"Your pistol?" said Whiteside incredulously, "my dear good chap, you aremad!Howcoulditbeyourpistol?"

"Itisneverthelessmypistol,"saidTarlingquietly."Irecogniseditthemoment

Isawitonyourdesk,andthoughttheremustbesomemistake.Thesefurrowsprove that there is no mistake at all. It has been one of my most faithfulfriends,andIcarrieditwithmeinChinaforsixyears."

Whitesidegasped.

"Andyoumeantotellme,"hedemanded,"thatThorntonLynewaskilledwithyourpistol?"

Tarlingnodded.

"It is an amazing but bewildering fact," he said. "That is undoubtedly mypistol, and it is the same thatwas found inMissRider's roomatCarrymoreMansions,andIhavenottheslightestdoubtinmymindthatitwasbyashotfiredfromthisweaponthatThorntonLynelosthislife."

Therewasalongsilence.

"Well, that beats me," saidWhiteside, laying the weapon on the table. "Ateveryturnsomenewmysteryarises.ThisisthesecondjarI'vehadto-day."

"The second?" said Tarling. He put the question idly, for his mind wasabsorbed in this new and to him tremendous aspect of the crime. ThorntonLyne had been killed by his pistol! That to him was the most staggeringcircumstancewhichhadbeenrevealedsincehehadcomeintothecase.

"Yes,"Whitesidewassaying,"it'sthesecondsetback."

WithaneffortTarlingbroughthismindbackfromspeculatinguponthenewmystery.

"Doyourememberthis?"saidWhiteside.Heopenedhissafeandtookoutabigenvelope,fromwhichheextractedatelegram.

"Yes,thisisthetelegramsupposedtohavebeensentbyOdetteRider,askingMr.Lynetocallatherflat.Itwasfoundamongstthedeadman'seffectswhenthehousewassearched."

"Tobeexact,"correctedWhiteside,"itwasdiscoveredbyLyne'svalet—amannamed Cole, who seems to be a very honest person, against whom nosuspicioncouldbeattached.Ihadhimherethismorningearlytomakefurtherinquiries intoLyne'smovementson thenightof themurder.He's in thenextroom,by-the-way.I'llbringhimin."

Hepushedabell andgavehis instructions to theuniformedpolicemanwhocame. Presently the door opened again and the officer ushered in arespectable-looking,middle-agedman,whohad"domesticservice"writtenalloverhim.

"JusttellMr.Tarlingwhatyoutoldme,"saidWhiteside.

"About that telegram, sir?" asked Cole. "Yes, I'm afraid I made a bit of amistakethere,butIgotflurriedwiththisawfulbusinessandIsupposeI lostmyheadabit."

"Whathappened?"askedTarling.

"Well,sir,thistelegramIbroughtupthenextdaytoMr.Whiteside—thatistosay,thedayafterthemurder——"Tarlingnodded."AndwhenIbroughtitupImadeafalsestatement.It'sathingI'veneverdonebeforeinmylife,butItellyouIwasscaredbyallthesepoliceinquiries."

"Whatwasthefalsestatement?"askedTarlingquickly.

"Well,sir,"saidtheservant,twistinghishatnervously,"IsaidthatithadbeenopenedbyMr.Lyne.Asamatteroffact,thetelegramwasn'tdelivereduntilaquarterofanhourafterMr.Lynelefttheplace.ItwasIwhoopeneditwhenIheardofthemurder.Then,thinkingthatIshouldgetintotroubleforstickingmynoseintopolicebusiness,ItoldMr.WhitesidethatMr.Lynehadopenedit."

"Hedidn'treceivethetelegram?"askedTarling.

"No,sir."

Thetwodetectiveslookedatoneanother.

"Well,whatdoyoumakeofthat,Whiteside?"

"I'mblest ifIknowwhattothinkofit,"saidWhiteside,scratchinghishead."Wedependeduponthattelegramtoimplicatethegirl.Itbreaksabiglinkinthechainagainsther."

"Supposingitwasnotalreadybroken,"saidTarlingalmostaggressively.

"AnditcertainlyremovestheonlypossibleexplanationforLynegoingtotheflatonthenightofthemurder.You'reperfectlysure,Cole,thatthattelegramdidnotreachMr.Lyne?"

"Perfectly, sir," saidCole emphatically. "I took it inmyself.AfterMr.Lynedroveoff Iwent to the door of the house to get a little fresh air, and Iwasstanding on the top step when it came up. If you notice, sir, it's marked'received at 9.20'—that means the time it was received at the District PostOffice,andthat'sabouttwomilesfromourplace.Itcouldn'tpossiblyhavegotto thehousebeforeMr.Lyne left, and Iwas scared todeath thatyouclevergentlemenwouldhaveseenthat."

"Iwas so clever that I didn't see it," admittedTarlingwith a smile. "Thank

you,Mr.Cole,thatwilldo."

Whenthemanhadgone,hesatdownonachairoppositeWhitesideandthrusthishandsintohispocketswithagestureofhelplessness.

"Well, I'mbaffled," he said. "Letme recite the case,Whiteside, because it'sgettingsocomplicatedthatI'malmostforgettingitsplainestfeatures.OnthenightofthefourteenthThorntonLyneismurderedbysomepersonorpersonsunknown,presumablyintheflatofOdetteRider,hisformercashier,residingat CarrymoreMansions. Bloodstains are found upon the floor, and there isotherevidence,suchasthediscoveryofthepistolandthespentbullet,whichemphasisestheaccuracyofthatconclusion.NobodyseesMr.Lynecomeintotheflatorgoout.HeisfoundinHydeParkthenextmorningwithouthiscoatorvest,alady'ssilknight-dress,identifiedasOdetteRider's,wrappedtightlyroundhisbreast,andtwoofOdetteRider'shandkerchiefsarefoundoverthewound.Uponhisbodyareanumberofdaffodils,andhiscar,containinghiscoat,vestandboots, is foundby thesideof the roadahundredyardsaway.HaveIgotitright?"

Whitesidenodded.

"Whateverelseisatfault,"hesmiled,"yourmemoryisunchallengeable."

"A search of the bedroom in which the crime was committed reveals abloodstained thumb-print on thewhite bureau, and a suit-case, identified asOdette Rider's, half-packed upon the bed. Later, a pistol, which is mine, isfound in the lady's work-basket, hidden under repairing material. The firstsuggestionisthatMissRideristhemurderess.Thatsuggestionisrefuted,firstby the fact that she was at Ashford when the murder was committed,unconscious as a result of a railway accident; and the second point in herfavouristhatthetelegramdiscoveredbyLyne'svalet,purportingtobesignedbythegirl,invitingLynetoherflatatacertainhour,wasnotdeliveredtothemurderedman."

Herosetohisfeet.

"Come along and see Cresswell," he said. "This case is going to drive memad!"

AssistantCommissionerCresswellheardthestorythetwomenhadtotell,andifhewasastoundedhedidnotbetrayanysignsofhissurprise.

"This looks like being themurder case of the century," he said. "Of course,youcannotproceedanyfurtheragainstMissRider,andyouwerewisenottomake the arrest. However, she must be kept under observation, becauseapparently she knows, or think she knows, the personwho did commit themurder.Shemustbewatcheddayandnight,andsoonerorlater,shewilllead

youtothemanuponwhomhersuspicionsrest.

"Whitesidehadbetterseeher,"hesaid,turningtoTarling."Hemaygetanewangleofherview. Idon't think there'smuchuse inbringingherdownhere.And,by-the-way,Tarling,all theaccountsofLyne'sStoreshavebeenplacedin the hands of a clever firm of chartered accountants—Dashwood andSolomon,ofSt.MaryAxe.IfyoususpecttherehasbeenanypeculationonthepartofLyne'semployees,andifthatpeculationisbehindthemurder,weshallprobablylearnsomethingwhichwillgiveyouaclue."

Tarlingnodded.

"Howlongwilltheexaminationtake?"heasked.

"They thinkaweek.Thebookshavebeen takenaway thismorning—whichreminds me that your friend, Mr. Milburgh—I think that is his name—isgivingeveryassistancetothepolicetoprocureafaithfulrecordofthefirm'sfinancialposition."

HelookedupatTarlingandscratchedhisnose.

"So itwas committedwith your pistol,Tarling?" he saidwith a little smile."Thatsoundsbad."

"It soundsmad," laughedTarling. "I'mgoing straight back to discoverwhathappenedtomypistolandhowitgotintothatroom.IknowthatitwassafeafortnightagobecauseItookittoagunsmithtobeoiled."

"Wheredoyoukeepitasarule?"

"In thecupboardwithmycolonialkit," saidTarling. "Nobodyhasaccess tomyroomexceptLingChu,whoisalwaystherewhenI'mout."

"LingChuisyourChineseservant?"

"Not exactly a servant," smiled Tarling. "He is one of the best native thiefcatchersIhaveevermet.HeisamanofthegreatestintegrityandIwouldtrusthimwithmylife."

"Murderedwithyourpistol,eh?"askedtheCommissioner.

Therewasalittlepauseandthen:

"I suppose Lyne's estatewill go to the Crown?He has no relations and noheir."

"You'rewrongthere,"saidTarlingquietly.

TheCommissionerlookedupinsurprise.

"Hasheanheir?"heasked.

"Hehasacousin,"saidTarlingwithalittlesmile,"arelationshipcloseenoughtoqualifyhimforLyne'smillions,unfortunately."

"Whyunfortunately?"askedMr.Cresswell.

"BecauseIhappentobetheheir,"saidTarling.

CHAPTERXVIITHEMISSINGREVOLVER

TarlingwalkedoutofScotlandYardontothesunlitEmbankment,troubleinhisface.Hetoldhimselfthatthecasewasgettingbeyondhimandthatitwasonly the case and its developmentwhichworried him.The queer little lookwhichhaddawnedontheCommissioner'sfacewhenhelearntthattheheirtothemurderedThorntonLyne'sfortunewasthedetectivewhowasinvestigatinghismurder,andthatTarling'srevolverhadbeenfoundintheroomwherethemurderhadbeencommitted,arousednothingbutaninwardchuckle.

Thatsuspicionshouldattachtohimwas,hetoldhimself,poeticjustice,forinhisdayhehimselfhadsuspectedmanymen,innocentorpartlyinnocent.

HewalkedupthestairstohisroomandfoundLingChupolishingthemeagrestockof silverwhichTarlingpossessed.LingChuwasa thief-catcher andagreatdetective,buthehadalsotakenuponhimselfthebusinessofattendingtoTarling'spersonalcomfort.Thedetectivespokenoword,outwentstraighttothe cupboard where he kept his foreign kit. On a shelf in neat array andcarefullyfolded,werethethinwhitedrillsuitsheworeinthetropics.Hissunhelmethungonapeg,andontheoppositewallwasarevolverholsterhangingby a strap.He lifted theholster. Itwas empty.Hehadhadnodoubts in hismind that the holster would be empty and closed the door with a troubledfrown.

"LingChu,"hesaidquietly.

"Youspeakme,LiehJen?"saidtheman,puttingdownthespoonsandrubberhewashandling.

"Whereismyrevolver?"

"Itisgone,LiehJen,"saidthemancalmly.

"Howlonghasitbeengone?"

"Imisshimfourdays,"saidLingChucalmly;

"Whotookit?"demandedTarling.

"Imisshimfourdays,"saidtheman.

Therewasanintervalofsilence,andTarlingnoddedhisheadslowly.

"Verygood,LingChu,"hesaid,"thereisnomoretobesaid."

Forallhisoutwardcalm,hewasdistressedinmind.

Was it possible that anybody could have got into the room in Ling Chu'sabsence—he could only remember one occasion when they had been outtogether,andthatwasthenighthehadgonetothegirl'sflatandLingChuhadshadowedhim.

WhatifLingChu——?

Hedismissed the thought aspalpably absurd.What interest couldLingChuhaveinthedeathofLyne,whomhehadonlyseenonce,thedaythatThorntonLynehadcalledTarlingintoconsultationattheStores?

Thatthoughtwastoofantastictoentertain,butneverthelessitrecurredagainandagain tohimand in theendhesenthisservantawaywithamessage toScotlandYard,determinedtogiveevenhismostfantastictheoryasthoroughandimpartialanexaminationaswaspossible.

Theflatconsistedoffourroomsandakitchen.TherewasTarling'sbedroomcommunicatingwithhisdiningandsitting-room.Therewasaspare-roominwhichhekepthisboxesandtrunks—itwasinthisroomthattherevolverhadbeenputaside—andtherewasthesmallroomoccupiedbyLingChu.Hegavehisattendant time togetoutof thehouseandwellonhis journeybeforeherose from the deep chair where he had been sitting in puzzled thought andbeganhisinspection.

LingChu's roomwas small and scrupulously clean. Save for the bed and aplain black-painted box beneath the bed, there was no furniture. The well-scrubbed boardswere coveredwith a strip ofChinesematting and the onlyornamentation in the room was supplied by a tiny red lacquer vase whichstoodonthemantelpiece.

Tarlingwentbacktotheouterdooroftheflatandlockeditbeforecontinuinghissearch.Iftherewasanycluetothemysteryofthestolenrevolveritwouldbefoundhere,inthisblackbox.AChinamankeepsallhispossessions"withinsixsides,"asthesayinggoes,andcertainlytheboxwasverywellsecured.Itwastenminutesbeforehemanagedtofindakeytoshift thetwolockswithwhichitwasfastened.

Thecontentsoftheboxwerefew.LingChu'swardrobewasnotanextensive

oneanddidlittlemorethanhalffillthereceptacle.Verycarefullyheliftedouttheonesuitofclothes,thesilkshirts,theslippersandtheoddsandendsoftheChinaman'stoiletandcamequicklytothelowerlayer.Herehediscoveredtwolacquerboxes,neitherofwhichwerelockedorfastened.

The first of these contained sewing material, the second a small packagewrapped in native paper and carefully tied aboutwith ribbon.Tarling undidthe ribbon, opened the package and found to his surprise a small pad ofnewspaper cuttings. In themain theywere cuttings from colloquial journalsprintedinChinesecharacters,buttherewereoneortwoparagraphsevidentlycutfromoneoftheEnglishpaperspublishedinShanghai.

He thought at first that thesewere records of cases inwhichLingChu hadbeen engaged, and though hewas surprised that theChinaman should havetakenthetroubletocollectthesesouvenirs—especiallytheEnglishcuttings—he did not think at first that there was any significance in the act. He waslooking for some clue—what he knew not—which would enable him toexplaintohisownsatisfactionthemysteryofthefilchedpistol.

HereadthefirstoftheEuropeancuttingsidly,butpresentlyhiseyesopenedwide.

"Therewas a fracas atHoHans's tea-room last night, due apparently to thetoo-persistentattentionspaidbyanEnglishvisitortothedancinggirl,thelittleNarcissus,whoisknowntotheEnglish,orsuchasfrequentHoHans'srooms,asTheLittleDaffodil——"

He gasped. The Little Daffodil! He let the cutting drop on his knee andfrowned in an effort of memory. He knew Shanghai well. He knew itsmysterious under-world and hadmore than a passing acquaintancewithHoHans's tea-rooms. HoHans's tea-roomwas, in fact, themaskwhich hid anopiumdenthathehadbeeninstrumentalincleaningupjustbeforehedepartedfromChina.AndhedistinctlyrememberedtheLittleDaffodil.Hehadhadnodealingswithherinthewayofbusiness,forwhenhehadhadoccasiontogointoHoHans'stea-rooms,hewasusuallyafterbiggergamethanthegracefullittledancer.

Itallcamebacktohiminaflash.Hehadheardmenattheclubspeakingofthegraceof theLittleDaffodilandherdancinghadenjoyedsomethingofavogueamongsttheyoungBritisherswhowereexiledinShanghai.

ThenextcuttingwasalsoinEnglishandran:

"Asadfatalityoccurredthismorning,ayoungChinesegirl,OLing,thesisterofInspectorLingChu,oftheNativePolice,beingfoundinadyingconditionintheyardatthebackofHoHans'stea-rooms.Thegirlhadbeenemployedat

theshopasadancer,muchagainstherbrother'swishes,andfiguredinaveryunpleasant affair reported in these columns lastweek. It is believed that thetragic act was one of those 'save-face' suicides which are all too commonamongstnativewomen."

Tarlingwhistled,asoft,long,understandingwhistle.

TheLittleDaffodil!And the sister ofLingChu!Heknew somethingof theChinese,somethingoftheiruncannypatience,somethingoftheirunforgivingnature.Thisdeadmanhadputaninsultnotonlyuponthelittledancinggirl,butuponthewholeofherfamily.InChinadisgracetooneisadisgracetoallandshe,realisingtheshamethat thenotorietyhadbroughtuponherbrother,hadtakenwhattoher,asaChinesegirl,hadbeentheonlywayout.

But what was the shame? Tarling searched through the native papers andfoundseveralfloweryaccounts,notanytwoagreedsaveononepoint,thatanEnglishman, and a tourist, had made public love to the girl, no very greatinjury from the standpoint of theWesterner, aChinaman had interfered andtherehadbeena"roughhouse."

Tarling read the cuttings through from beginning to end, then carefullyreplacedtheminthepaperpackageandputthemawayinthelittlelacquerboxat the bottom of the trunk. As carefully he returned all the clothes he hadremoved, relocked the lid andpushed it under the iron bedstead.Swiftly hereviewed all the circumstances. LingChu had seen Thornton Lyne and hadplannedhisvengeance.ToextractTarling'srevolverwasaneasymatter—butwhy, ifhehadmurderedLyne,wouldhehave left the incriminatingweaponbehind?ThatwasnotlikeLingChu—thatwastheactofanovice.

Buthowhadhe luredThorntonLyne to the flat?Andhowdidheknow—athoughtstruckhim.

Threenightsbeforethemurder,LingChu,discussingtheinterviewwhichhadtakenplaceatLyne'sStores,hadverycorrectlydiagnosedthesituation.LingChuknewthatThorntonLynewasinlovewiththegirlanddesiredher,anditwouldnotberemarkableifhehadutilisedhisknowledgetohisownends.

ButthetelegramwhichwasdesignedtobringLynetotheflatwasinEnglishand Ling Chu did not admit to a knowledge of that language. Here againTarlingcametoadeadend.ThoughhemighttrusttheChinamanwithhislife,hewasperfectlysatisfiedthatthismanwouldnotrevealallthatheknew,anditwasquitepossiblethatLingChuspokeEnglishaswellashespokehisownnativetongueandthefourdialectsofChina.

"Igiveitup,"saidTarling,halftohimselfandhalfaloud.

Hewas undecided as towhether he shouldwait for his subordinate's return

from Scotland Yard and tax him with the crime, or whether he should letmattersslideforadayortwoandcarryouthisintentiontovisitOdetteRider.He took that decision, leaving anote for theChinaman, and aquarter of anhourlatergotoutofhistaxiatthedooroftheWestSomersetHotel.

OdetteRiderwasin(thatheknew)andwaitingforhim.Shelookedpaleandhereyesweretired,asthoughshehadsleptlittleonthepreviousnight,butshegreetedhimwiththathalfsmileofhers.

"I'vecometotellyouthatyouaretobesparedtheordealofmeetingthethirddegree men of Scotland Yard," he said laughingly, and her eyes spoke herrelief.

"Haven'tyoubeenoutthisbeautifulmorning?"heaskedinnocently,andthistimeshelaughedaloud.

"Whatahypocriteyouare,Mr.Tarling!"shereplied."YouknowverywellIhaven't been out, and you know too that there are three ScotlandYardmenwatchingthishotelwhowouldaccompanymeinanyconstitutionalItook."

"Howdidyouknowthat?"heaskedwithoutdenyingthecharge.

"Because I've beenout," she said naively and laughed again. "You aren't socleverasI thoughtyouwere,"sheralliedhim."IquiteexpectedwhenIsaidI'dnotbeenout,tohearyoutellmejustwhereI'dbeen,howfarIwalkedandjustwhatIbought."

"Somegreensewingsilk,sixhandkerchiefs,anda tooth-brush,"saidTarlingpromptlyandthegirlstaredathimincomicdismay.

"Why,ofcourse,Ioughttohaveknownyoubetterthanthat,"shesaid."Thenyoudohavewatchers?"

"Watchers and talkers," said Tarling gaily. "I had a little interviewwith thegentlemaninthevestibuleofthehotelandhesuppliedmewithquitealotofinformation.Didheshadowyou?"

Sheshookherhead.

"Isawnobody,"sheconfessed,"thoughIlookedmostcarefully.Nowwhatareyougoingtodowithme,Mr.Tarling?"

Foranswer,Tarling took fromhispocket a flatoblongbox.Thegirl lookedwonderinglyasheopened the lidanddrewforthaslipofporcelaincoveredwithathinfilmofblackinkandtwowhitecards.Hishandshookasheplacedthemonthetableandsuddenlythegirlunderstood.

"Youwantmyfingerprints?"sheaskedandhenodded.

"Ijusthateaskingyou,"hesaid,"but——"

"Showmehowtodoit,"sheinterruptedandheguidedher.

Hefeltdisloyal—averytraitor,andperhapssherealisedwhathewasthinking,forshelaughedasshewipedherstainedfingertips.

"Duty'sduty,"shemockedhim,"andnowtellmethis—areyougoingtokeepmeunderobservationallthetime?"

"For a little while," said Tarling gravely. "In fact, until we get the kind ofinformationwewant."

Heputawaytheboxintohispocketassheshookherhead.

"Thatmeansyou'renotgoing to tellusanything," saidTarling. "I thinkyouaremaking a very great mistake, but really I am not depending upon yoursayingaword.Idependentirelyupon——"

"Uponwhat?"sheaskedcuriouslyashehesitated.

"Uponwhatotherswilltellme,"saidTarling

"Others?Whatothers?"

Hersteadyeyesmethis.

"Therewas once a famous politicianwho said 'Wait and see,'" saidTarling,"advicewhichIamgoingtoaskyoutofollow.Now,Iwilltellyousomething,MissRider,"hewenton."To-morrowIamgoingtotakeawayyourwatchers,thoughIshouldadviseyoutoremainatthishotelforawhile.Itisobviouslyimpossibleforyoutogobacktoyourflat."

Thegirlshivered.

"Don't talk about that," she said in a low voice. "But is it necessary that Ishouldstayhere?"

"There is an alternative," he said, speaking slowly, "an alternative," he saidlookingathersteadily,"anditisthatyoushouldgotoyourmother'splaceatHertford."

Shelookedupquickly.

"Thatisimpossible,"shesaid.

Hewassilentforamoment.

"Whydon'tyoumakeaconfidantofme,MissRider?"hesaid."Ishouldnotabuseyourtrust.Whydon'tyoutellmesomethingaboutyourfather?"

"Myfather?"shelookedathiminamazement."Myfather,didyousay?"

Henodded.

"ButIhavenofather,"saidthegirl.

"Haveyou——"hefoundadifficultyinframinghiswordsanditseemedtohim that shemust have guessedwhatwas coming. "Have you a lover?" heaskedatlength.

"Whatdoyoumean?"shecountered,and therewasanoteofhauteur inhervoice.

"Imeanthis,"saidTarlingsteadily."WhatisMr.Milburghtoyou?"

Herhandwentuptohermouthandshelookedathiminwide-eyeddistress,then:

"Nothing!"shesaidhuskily."Nothing,nothing!"

CHAPTERXVIIITHEFINGERPRINTS

Tarling,hishandsthrustintohispockets,hischindropped,hisshouldersbent,slowlywalkedthebroadpavementoftheEdgwareRoadonhiswayfromthegirl'shoteltohisflat.Hedismissedwithgoodreasonthenotunimportantfactthat he himself was suspect. He, a comparatively unknown detective fromShanghaiwasbyreasonofhisrelationshiptoThorntonLyne,andevenmoresobecausehisownrevolverhadbeenfoundonthesceneofthetragedy, theobject of some suspicion on the part of the higher authoritieswho certainlywouldnotpooh-poohthesuggestion thathewas innocentofanyassociationwiththecrimebecausehehappenedtobeengagedinthecase.

Heknew that thewhole complexmachineryofScotlandYardwasworking,andworkingattopspeed,toimplicatehiminthetragedy.Silentandinvisiblethoughthatworkmaybe,itwouldneverthelessbesure.Hesmiledalittle,andshruggedhimselffromthecategoryofthesuspected.

First and most important of the suspects was Odette Rider. That ThorntonLynehadlovedher,hedidnotforonemomentimagine.ThorntonLynewasnotthekindofmanwholoved.Ratherhadhedesired,andveryfewwomenhad thwartedhim.OdetteRiderwas an exception.Tarlingonlyknewof thescenewhichhadoccurredbetweenLyneandthegirlonthedayhehadbeencalledin,buttheremusthavebeenmanyotherpainfulinterviews,painfulforthegirl,humiliatingforthedeadmillionaire.

Anyway,he thought thankfully, itwouldnot beOdette.Hehadgot into thehabitof thinkingofheras"Odette,"adiscoverywhichhadamusedhim.Hecouldruleherout,becauseobviouslyshecouldnotbeintwoplacesatonce.WhenThorntonLynewasdiscoveredinHydePark,withOdetteRider'snight-dressroundabouthiswound,thegirlherselfwaslyinginacottagehospitalatAshfordfiftymilesaway.

ButwhatofMilburgh,thatsuaveandoilyman?Tarlingrecalledthefactthathehadbeensent forbyhisdead relative to inquire intoMilburgh'smodeofliving and that Milburgh was under suspicion of having robbed the firm.Suppose Milburgh had committed the crime? Suppose, to hide hisdefalcations, he had shot his employer dead? There was a flaw in thisreasoning because the death of Thornton Lyne would be more likely toprecipitatethediscoveryofthemanager'sembezzlements—therewouldbeanexamination of accounts and everythingwould come out.Milburgh himselfwasnotunmindfulofthisargumentinhisfavour,aswastoberevealed.

As against this, Tarling thought, it was notorious that criminals did foolishthings.Theytooklittleornoaccountoftheimmediateconsequencesoftheiract, and a man like Milburgh, in his desperation, might in his very frenzyoverlookthepossibilityofhiscrimecomingtolightthroughtheverydeedhehadcommittedtocoverhimselfup.

HehadreachedthebottomofEdgwareRoadandwasturningthecornerofthestreet,lookingacrosstotheMarbleArch,whenheheardavoicehailhimandturning,sawacabbreakingviolentlytotheedgeofthepavement.

ItwasInspectorWhitesidewhojumpedout.

"Iwas just coming to see you," he said. "I thought your interviewwith theyoungladywouldbelonger.Justwaitamoment,tillI'vepaidthecabman—by-the-way,IsawyourChinkservantandgatheryousenthimtotheYardonaspooferrand."

Whenhereturned,hemetTarling'seyeandgrinnedsympathetically.

"Iknowwhat'sinyourmind,"hesaidfrankly,"butreallytheChiefthinksitnomore thananextraordinarycoincidence. Isupposeyoumade inquiriesaboutyourrevolver?"

Tarlingnodded.

"Andcanyoudiscoverhowitcametobeinthepossessionof——"hepaused,"themurdererofThorntonLyne?"

"Ihave a theory, half-formed, it is true, but still a theory," saidTaxiing. "Infact,it'shardlysomuchatheoryasanhypothesis."

Whitesidegrinnedagain.

"Thishair-splittinginthematteroflogicaltermsneverdidmeanmuchinmyyounglife,"hesaid,"butItakeityouhaveahunch."

Withoutanymoreto-do,TarlingtoldtheotherofthediscoveryhehadmadeinLingChu'sbox,thepresscuttings,descriptiveofthelateMr.Lyne'sconductinShanghaianditstragicsequel.

Whitesidelistenedinsilence.

"There may be something on that side," he said at last when Tarling hadfinished."I'veheardaboutyourLingChu.He'saprettygoodpoliceman,isn'the?"

"ThebestinChina,"saidTarlingpromptly,"butI'mnotgoingtopretendthatIunderstandhismind.Thesearethefacts.Therevolver,orratherthepistol,wasinmycupboardandtheonlypersonwhocouldgetatitwasLingChu.Thereis the second andmore important fact imputingmotive, that Ling Chu hadevery reason to hate Thornton Lyne, the man who had indirectly beenresponsible for his sister's death. I havebeen thinking thematter over and InowrecallthatLingChuwasunusuallysilentafterhehadseenLyne.HehasadmittedtomethathehasbeentoLyne'sStoreandinfacthasbeenpursuinginquiries there.We happened to be discussing the possibility ofMiss RidercommittingthemurderandLingChutoldmethatMissRidercouldnotdriveamotor-carandwhenIquestionedhimastohowheknewthis,hetoldmethathehadmadeseveralinquiriesattheStore.ThisIknewnothingabout.

"Hereisanothercuriousfact,"Tarlingwenton."Ihavealwaysbeenundertheimpression that Ling Chu did not speak English, except a few words of'pigeon' that Chinamen pick up through mixing with foreign devils. Yet hepushedhisinquiriesatLyne'sStoreamongsttheemployees,anditisamilliontooneagainsthisfindinganyshop-girlwhospokeCantonese!"

"I'llputacoupleofmenontowatchhim,"saidWhiteside,butTarlingshookhishead.

"Itwould be awaste of goodmen," he said, "becauseLingChu could leadthemjustwherehewantedto.ItellyouheisabettersleuththananyyouhavegotatScotlandYard,andhehasanabsolutegiftforfadingoutofthepictureunder your very nose.LeaveLingChu tome, I know theway to dealwithhim,"headdedgrimly.

"TheLittleDaffodil!"saidWhitesidethoughtfully,repeatingthephrasewhichTarling had quoted. "That was the Chinese girl's name, eh? By Jove! It'ssomethingmorethanacoincidence,don'tyouthink,Tarling?"

"Itmaybeormaynotbe,"saidTarling;"thereisnosuchwordasdaffodilinChinese.Infact,IamnotsocertainthatthedaffodilisanativeofChinaatall,thoughChina'samightybigplace.Strictlyspeaking thegirlwascalled 'TheLittleNarcissus,'butasyousay,itmaybesomethingmorethanacoincidencethatthemanwhoinsultedher,ismurderedwhilstherbrotherisinLondon."

Theyhad crossed the broad roadway as theywere speaking andhad passedintoHydePark.TarlingthoughtwhimsicallythatthisopenspaceexercisedthesameattractiononhimasitdiduponMr.Milburgh.

"Whatwereyougoingtoseemeabout?"heaskedsuddenly,rememberingthatWhitesidehadbeenonhiswaytothehotelwhentheyhadmet.

"IwantedtogiveyouthelastreportaboutMilburgh."

Milburgh again! All conversation, all thought, all clues led to that mysteryman.ButwhatWhitesidehadtotellwasnotespeciallythrilling.Milburghhadbeenshadoweddayandnight,andtherecordofhisdoingswasaveryprosaicone.

Butitisoutofprosaichappeningsthatbigcluesareborn.

"Idon'tknowhowMilburghexpectstheinquiryintoLyne'saccountswillgo,"saidWhiteside, "but he is evidently connected, or expects to be connected,withsomeotherbusiness."

"Whatmakesyousaythat?"askedTarling.

"Well,"repliedWhiteside,"hehasbeenbuyingledgers,"andTarlinglaughed.

"That doesn't seem to be a very offensive proceeding," he said good-humouredly."Whatsortofledgers?"

"Thoseheavythingswhichareusedinbigoffices.Youknow,thesortofthingthatittakesonemanallhistimetolift.HeboughtthreeatRoebuck's,inCityRoad, and took them to his house by taxi.Nowmy theory," saidWhitesideearnestly,"isthatthisfellowisnoordinarycriminal,ifheisacriminalatall.Itmaybethathehasbeenkeepingaduplicatesetofbooks."

"Thatisunlikely,"interruptedTarling,"andIsaythiswithduerespectforyourjudgment,Whiteside. Itwouldwant to be somethingmore than an ordinarycriminaltocarryallthedetailsofLyne'smammothbusinessinhishead,anditis more than possible that your first theory was right, namely, that hecontemplateseithergoingwithanotherfirm,orstartinganewbusinessofhisown.Thesecondsuppositionismorelikely.Anyway,itisnocrimetoownaledger,oreventhree.By-the-way,whendidhebuythesebooks?"

"Yesterday," said Whiteside, "early in the morning, before Lyne's opened.

HowdidyourinterviewwithMissRidergooff?"

Tarlingshruggedhisshoulders.Hefeltastrangereluctancetodiscussthegirlwiththepoliceofficer,andrealisedjusthowbigafoolhewasinallowinghersweetnesstodrughim.

"I am convinced that, whoever shemay suspect, she knows nothing of themurder,"hesaidshortly.

"Thenshedoessuspectsomebody?"

Tarlingnodded.

"Who?"

AgainTarlinghesitated.

"IthinkshesuspectsMilburgh,"hesaid.

Heputhishandintheinsideofhisjacketandtookoutapocketcase,openedit,anddrewforththetwocardsbearingthefingerimpressionshehadtakenofOdetteRider.Itrequiredmorethananordinaryeffortofwilltodothis,thoughhewouldhavefounditdifficulttoexplainjustwhattrickshisemotionswereplaying.

"Herearetheimpressionsyouwanted,"hesaid."Willyoutakethem?"

Whitesidetookthecardswithanodandexaminedtheinkysmudges,andallthetimeTarling'sheartstoodstill,forInspectorWhitesidewastherecognisedauthority of the Police Intelligence Department on finger prints and theircharacteristics.

Thesurveywasalongone.

Tarling remembered the scene for years afterwards; the sunlit path, thestraggling idlers, the carriages pursuing their leisurelyway along thewalks,andthestiffmilitaryfigureofWhitesidestandingalmosttoattention,hiskeeneyespeeringdownat the littlecardswhichheheld in thefinger-tipsofbothhands.Then:

"Interesting,"hesaid."Younoticethatthetwofiguresarealmostthesame—whichisratherextraordinary.Veryinteresting."

"Well?"askedTarlingimpatiently,almostsavagely.

"Interesting," said Whiteside again, "but none of these correspond to thethumbprintsonthebureau."

"ThankGodforthat!"saidTarlingfervently"ThankGodforthat!"

CHAPTERXIXLINGCHUTELLSTHETRUTH

The firm ofDashwood and Solomon occupied a narrow-fronted building inthe heart of the City of London. Its reputation stood as high as any, and itnumbered amongst its clients the best houses in Britain. Both partners hadbeen knighted, and it was Sir Felix Solomon who received Tarling in hisprivateoffice.

SirFelixwasatall,good-lookingman,wellpastmiddleage,ratherbrusqueofmannerbutkindlywithal,andhelookedupoverhisglassesas thedetectiveentered.

"ScotlandYard,eh?"hesaid,glancingatTarling'scard."Well,Icangiveyouexactlyfiveminutes,Mr.Tarling.Ipresumeyou'vecometoseemeabouttheLyneaccounts?"

Tarlingnodded.

"Wehavenotbeenabletostartontheseyet,"saidSirFelix,"thoughwearehopingtogointothemto-morrow.We'reterriblyrushedjustnow,andwe'vehadtogetinanextrastafftodealwiththisnewworktheGovernmenthasputon us—by-the-way, you know that we are not Lyne's accountants; they areMessrs.Purbrake&Store,butwehavetakenontheworkattherequestofMr.Purbrake,whoverynaturallywishestohaveanindependentinvestigation,asthere seems to be some question of defalcation on the part of one of theemployees.This,coupledwiththetragicdeathofMr.Lyne,hasmadeitallthemore necessary that an outside firm should be called in to look into thebooks."

"That I understand," said Tarling, "and of course, the Commissioner quiteappreciates the difficulty of your task. I've come along rather to procureinformationformyownpurposeasIamdoublyinterested——"

SirFelixlookedupsharply.

"Mr. Tarling?" he repeated, looking at the card again. "Why, of course! Iunderstandthatlettersofadministrationaretobeappliedforonyourbehalf?"

"Ibelievethatisso,"saidTarlingquietly."Butmyinterestinthepropertyismoreorlessimpersonalatthemoment.ThemanagerofthebusinessisaMr.Milburgh."

SirFelixnodded.

"Hehasbeenmostusefulandhelpful,"hesaid. "Andcertainly, if thevaguerumoursIhaveheardhaveanysubstantialfoundation—namely,thatMilburghis suspected of robbing the firm—then he is assuredly giving us everyassistancetoconvicthimself."

"Youhaveallthebooksinyourkeeping?"

"Absolutely,"repliedSirFelixemphatically."Thelastthreebooks,unearthedbyMr. Milburgh himself, came to us only this morning. In fact, those arethey,"hepointedtoabrownpaperparcelstandingonasmallertablenearthewindow.The parcelwas heavily corded andwas secured again by red tape,whichwassealed.

SirFelixleanedoverandpressedabellonthetable,andaclerkcamein.

"Put thosebookswith theothers in thestrong-room,"hesaid,andwhen theman had disappeared, staggering under theweight of the heavy volumes heturnedtoTarling.

"We'rekeepingallthebooksandaccountsofLyne'sStoresinaspecialstrong-room,"hesaid."Theyareallunderseal,andthosesealswillbebrokeninthepresenceofMr.Milburgh,asan interestedparty, anda representativeof thePublicProsecutor."

"Whenwillthisbe?"askedTarling.

"To-morrow afternoon, or possibly to-morrow morning. We will notifyScotland Yard as to the exact hour, because I suppose you will wish to berepresented."

Herosebriskly,therebyendingtheinterview.

Itwasanotherdeadend,thoughtTarling,ashewentoutintoSt.MaryAxeandboardedawestward-boundomnibus.Thecaseaboundedintheseculs-de-sacwhichseemedtoleadnowhere.Cul-de-sacNo.1hadbeensuppliedbyOdetteRider;cul-de-sacNo.2mightveryeasilyleadtothedeadendofMilburgh'sinnocence.

Hefeltasenseofrelief,however,thattheauthoritieshadactedsopromptlyinimpounding Lyne's books. An examination into these might lead to thediscoveryofthemurderer,andatanyratewoulddispelthecloudofsuspicionwhichstillsurroundedOdetteRider.

He had gone to Dashwood and Solomon to make himself personallyacquaintedwith that string in the tangled skeinwhichhewasdetermined tounravel;andnow,withhismindatrestuponthatsubject,hewasreturningtosettlematterswithLingChu, thatChinese assistant of hiswhowas now asdeeplyundersuspicionasanysuspectinthecase.

HehadspokennomorethanthetruthwhenhehadtoldInspectorWhitesidethatheknewthewaytodealwithLingChu.AChinesecriminal—andhewasloath to believe that Ling Chu, that faithful servant, came under thatdescription—isnottobehandledintheOccidentalmanner;andhe,whohadbeen known throughout Southern China as the "Hunter of Men" had areputation for extracting truth by methods which no code of laws wouldsanction.

HewalkedintohisBondStreetflat,shut thedoorbehindhimandlockedit,puttingthekeyinhispocket.HeknewLingChuwouldbein,becausehehadgivenhiminstructionsthatmorningtoawaithisreturn.

The Chinaman came into the hall to take his coat and hat, and followedTarlingintothesitting-room.

"Closethedoor,LingChu,"saidTarlinginChinese."Ihavesomethingtosaytoyou."

The last words were spoken in English, and the Chinaman looked at himquickly. Tarling had never addressed him in that language before, and theChinamanknewjustwhatthisdepartureportended.

"LingChu,"saidTarling,sittingatthetable,hischininhishand,watchingtheotherwithsteadyeyes,"youdidnottellmethatyouspokeEnglish."

"Themasterhasneveraskedme,"saidtheChinamanquietly,andtoTarling'ssurprisehisEnglishwaswithoutaccentandhispronunciationperfect.

"Thatisnottrue,"saidTarlingsternly."Whenyoutoldmethatyouhadheardofthemurder,IsaidthatyoudidnotunderstandEnglish,andyoudidnotdenyit."

"Itisnotformetodenythemaster,"saidLingChuascoollyasever."IspeakverygoodEnglish.IwastrainedattheJesuitSchoolinHangkow,butitisnotgood foraChinaman to speakEnglish inChina,or for any toknow thatheunderstands.Yet themastermust have known I spokeEnglish and read thelanguage,forwhyshouldIkeepthelittlecuttingsfromthenewspapersintheboxwhichthemastersearchedthismorning?"

Tarling'seyesnarrowed.

"Soyouknewthat,didyou?"hesaid.

TheChinamansmiled.Itwasamostunusualcircumstance,forLingChuhadneversmiledwithinTarling'srecollection.

"Thepaperswereincertainorder—someturnedonewayandsometurnedtheother.WhenIsawthemafterIcamebackfromScotlandYardtheyhadbeen

disturbed.Theycouldnotdisturbthemselves,master,andnonebutyouwouldgotomybox."

Therewasapause,awkwardenough forTarling,who felt for themomentalittlefoolishthathiscarelessnesshadledtoLingChudiscoveringthesearchwhichhadbeenmadeofhisprivateproperty.

"I thought Ihadput thembackas Ihad found them,"he said,knowing thatnothing couldbe gainedbydenying the fact that he hadgone throughLingChu'strunk."Now,youwilltellme,LingChu,didthoseprintedwordsspeakthetruth?"

LingChunodded.

"It is true,master,"hesaid."TheLittleNarcissus,orastheforeignerscalledher, the LittleDaffodil, wasmy sister. She became a dancer in a tea-houseagainstmywish,ourparentsbeingdead.Shewasaverygoodgirl,master,andasprettyasasprigofalmondblossom.Chinesewomenarenotprettytotheforeigner'seyes,but littleDaffodilwas likesomethingcast inporcelain,andshehadthevirtuesofathousandyears."

Tarlingnodded.

"Shewasagoodgirl?"herepeated,thistimespeakinginChineseandusingaphrasewhichhadamoredelicateshadeofmeaning.

"Shelivedgoodandshediedgood,"saidtheChinamancalmly."Thespeechof theEnglishmanoffendedher,andhecalledhermanybadnamesbecauseshewould not come and sit on his knee; and if he put shame upon her byembracingherbefore theeyesofmen, shewasyetgood, and shediedveryhonourably."

Anotherintervalofsilence.

"Isee,"saidTarlingquietly."AndwhenyousaidyouwouldcomewithmetoEngland,didyouexpecttomeet—thebadEnglishman?"

LingChushookhishead.

"Ihadputitfrommymind,"hesaid,"untilIsawhimthatdayinthebigshop.ThentheevilspiritwhichIhadthoughtwasallburntoutinsideme,blazedupagain."Hestopped.

"Andyoudesiredhisdeath?"saidTarling,andanodwashisanswer.

"Youshalltellmeall,LingChu,"saidTarling.

Themanwasnowpacingtheroomwithrestlessstrides,hisemotionbetrayedonlybytheconvulsiveclutchingandunclutchingofhishands.

"TheLittleDaffodilwasverydear tome,"hesaid."SoonI thinkshewouldhavemarriedandhavehadchildren,andhernamewouldhavebeenblessedafterthefashionofourpeople;fordidnottheGreatMastersay:'Whatismoreworshipfulthanthemotherofchildren?'Andwhenshedied,master,myheartwas empty, for there was no other love in my life. And then the Ho Singmurderwascommitted,andIwentintotheinteriortosearchforLuFang,andthat helpedme to forget. I had forgotten till I saw him again. Then the oldsorrowgrewlargeinmysoul,andIwentout——"

"Tokillhim,"saidTarlingquietly.

"Tokillhim,"repeatedtheman.

"Tellmeall,"saidTarling,drawingalongbreath.

"Itwasthenightyouwenttothelittlegirl,"saidLingChu(TarlingknewthathespokeofOdetteRider)."Ihadmadeupmymindtogoout,butIcouldnotfindanexcusebecause,master,youhavegivenmeordersthatImustnotleavethisplacewhilstyouareout.SoIaskedifImightgowithyoutothehouseofmanyhouses."

"Totheflat?"noddedTarling."Yes,goon."

"I had taken your quick-quick pistol and had loaded it and put it in myovercoatpocket.You toldme to trailyou,butwhen IhadseenyouonyourwayIleftyouandwenttothebigshop."

"To the big shop?" said Tarling in surprise. "But Lyne did not live in hisstores!"

"SoIdiscovered,"saidLingChusimply."Ithoughtinsuchalargehousehewouldhavebuilthimselfabeautifulroom.InChinamanymastersliveintheirshops.SoIwenttothebigstoretosearchit."

"Didyougetin?"askedTarlinginsurprise,andagainLingChusmiled.

"Thatwasveryeasy,"hesaid."ThemasterknowshowwellIclimb,andtherewerelongironpipesleadingtotheroof.UponeoftheseIclimbed.Twosidesof theshopareonbigstreets.Oneside isonasmallerstreet,andthefourthside is inaverysmall-piece streetwith few lights. Itwasup this side that Iwent.On the roofweremanydoors, and to suchamanasme therewasnodifficulty."

"Goon,"saidTarlingagain.

"Icamedownfromfloortofloor,alwaysindarkness,buteachfloorIsearchedcarefully,butfoundnothingbutgreatbundlesandpacking-casesandlongbars——"

"Counters,"correctedTarling.

"Yes,"noddedLingChu,"theyarecalledcounters.AndthenatlastIcametothe floorwhere I had seenTheMan."Hepaused. "First Iwent to the greatroomwherewehadmethim,andthatwaslocked.Iopeneditwithakey,butitwasindarkness,andIknewnobodywasthere.ThenIwentalongapassagevery carefully, because therewas a light at the other end, and I came to anoffice."

"Empty,ofcourse?"

"It was empty," said the Chinaman, "but a light was burning, and the deskcoverwasopen.Ithoughthemustbethere,andIslippedbehindthebureau,taking thepistol frommypocket.Presently I heard a footstep. I peepedoutandsawthebigwhite-facedman."

"Milburgh!"saidTarling.

"Sohe is called," replied theChinaman. "He sat at the youngman's desk. Iknewitwastheyoungman'sdesk,becausethereweremanypicturesuponitandflowers,suchashewouldhave.Thebigmanhadhisbacktome."

"Whatwashedoing?"askedTarling.

"Hewassearchingthedesk,lookingforsomething.PresentlyIsawhimtakefromoneofthedrawers,whichheopened,anenvelope.FromwhereIstoodIcould see into thedrawer, and thereweremany little things such as touristsbuyinChina.FromtheenvelopehetooktheHong."

Tarling started.Heknewof theHong towhich theman referred. Itwas thelittleredslipofpaperbearing theChinesecharacterswhichwasfounduponThorntonLyne'sbodythatmemorablemorninginHydePark.

"Yes,yes,"hesaideagerly."Whathappenedthen?"

"Heput theenvelopeinhispocketandwentout. Iheardhimwalkingalongthepassage,andthenIcreptoutfrommyhidingplaceandIalsolookedatthedesk.Iputtherevolverdownbymyside,becauseIwantedbothhandsforthesearch,butIfoundnothing—onlyonelittlepiecebookthatthemasterusestowritedownfromdaytodayallthathappenstohim."

"Adiary?"thoughtTarling."Well,andwhatnext?"heasked.

"Igotup to search the roomand trippedoverawire. Itmusthavebeen thewire attached to the electric light above the desk, for the room suddenlybecamedark,andatthatmomentIheardthebigman'sfootstepsreturningandslippedoutofthedoor.Andthatisall,master,"saidLingChusimply."Iwentback to the roof quickly for fear I shouldbediscovered and it shouldbring

dishonourtoyou."

Tarlingwhistled.

"Andleftthepistolbehind?"hesaid.

"Thatisnothingbutthetruth,"saidLingChu."Ihavedishonouredmyselfinyoureyes,andinmyheartIamamurderer,forIwenttothatplacetokillthemanwhohadbroughtshametomeandtomyhonourablerelation."

"Andleftthepistolbehind?"saidTarlingagain."AndMilburghfoundit!"

CHAPTERXXMR.MILBURGHSEESITTHROUGH

LingChu'sstorywasnotdifficulttobelieve.Itwaslessdifficulttobelievethathewaslying.Thereisnoinventorintheworldsoclever,socircumstantial,soexact as todetail, as theChinaman.He is aborn tellerof stories andpiecertogetherofcircumstancesthatfitsocloselythatitisdifficulttoseethejoints.Yet the man had been frank, straightforward, patently honest. He had evenplacedhimselfinTarling'spowerbyhisconfessionofhismurderousintention.

Tarling could reconstruct the scene after the Chinaman had left. Milburghstumbling in in the dark, striking amatch and discovering a wall plug hadbeen pulled away, reconnecting the lamp, and seeing to his amazement amurderous-lookingpistolon thedesk. Itwaspossible thatMilburgh, findingthepistol,hadbeendeceived intobelieving thathehadoverlooked itonhisprevioussearch.

ButwhathadhappenedtotheweaponbetweenthemomentthatLingChuleftitonThorntonLyne'sprivatedeskandwhen itwasdiscovered in thework-basket of Odette Rider in the flat at Carrymore Mansions? And what hadMilburgh been doing in the store by himself so late at night? And moreparticularly,whathadhebeendoinginThorntonLyne'sprivateroom?ItwasunlikelythatLynewouldleavehisdeskunlocked,andtheonlyinferencetobedrawnwasthatMilburghhadunlockedithimselfwiththeobjectofsearchingitscontents.

And theHong? Those sinister little squares of red paper with the Chinesecharacters, one of which had been found in Thornton Lyne's pocket? Theexplanation of their presence in Thornton Lyne's desk was simple. He hadbeen aglobetrotter andhad collected curios, and itwasonlynatural that heshould collect these slips of paper, which were on sale in most of the big

Chinese towns as a souvenir of the predatory methods of the "CheerfulHearts."

HisconversationwithLingChuwouldhavetobereportedtoScotlandYard,andthataugustinstitutionwoulddrawitsownconclusions.InallprobabilitytheywouldbemostunfavourabletoLingChu,whowouldcomeimmediatelyundersuspicion.

Tarling,however,wassatisfied—orperhapsitwouldbemoreaccuratetosayinclined tobesatisfied—withhis retainer'sstatement.Someofhisstorywassusceptibletoverification,andthedetectivelostnotimeinmakinghiswaytothe Stores. The topographical situation was as Ling Chu had described it.Tarlingwent to the back of the big block of buildings, into the small, quietstreetofwhichLingChuhadspoken,andwasabletodistinguishtheironrainpipe(oneofmany)upwhichtheChinamanhadclambered.LingChuwouldnegotiatethattaskwithoutanyphysicaldistress.Hecouldclimblikeacat,asTarlingknew,and thatpartofhisstoryputnogreat taxupon thedetective'scredulity.

Hewalkedbacktothefrontoftheshop,passedthehugeplate-glasswindows,fringednowwithshopperswithwhomLyne'sStorehadacquiredanewandmorbidinterest,andthroughthebigswingingdoorsontothecrowdedfloor.Mr.Milburghwasinhisoffice,saidashop-walker,andledtheway.

Mr.Milburgh'sofficewasmuchlargerandlessornatethanhislateemployer's.HegreetedTarlingeffusively,andpushedanarm-chairforwardandproducedaboxofcigars.

"We're in rather a turmoil and upset now, Mr. Tarling," he said in hisingratiatingvoice,withthatsetsmileofhiswhichneverseemedtoleavehisface."Theauditors—orratherIshouldsaytheaccountants—havetakenawayallthebooks,andofcoursethatimposesaterriblestrainonme,Mr.Tarling.Itmeans thatwe'vegot toorganiseasystemof interimaccounts,andyouasabusinessmanwillunderstandjustwhatthatmeans."

"Youworkprettyhard,Mr.Milburgh?"saidTarling.

"Why,yes,sir,"smiledMilburgh."I'vealwaysworkedhard."

"Youwereworkingpretty hard beforeMr.Lynewas killed,were younot?"askedTarling.

"Yes——"hesitatedMilburgh."IcansayhonestlythatIwas."

"Verylateatnight?"

Milburghstillsmiled,buttherewasasteelylookinhiseyeasheanswered:

"FrequentlyIworkedlateatnight."

"Doyourememberthenightoftheeleventh?"askedTarling.

Milburghlookedattheceilingforinspiration.

"Yes,IthinkIdo.Iwasworkingverylatethatnight."

"Inyourownoffice?"

"No,"repliedtheotherreadily,"IdidmostofmyworkinMr.Lyne'soffice—athisrequest,"headded.AboldstatementtomaketoamanwhoknewthatLynesuspectedhimofrobbingthefirm.ButMilburghwasnothingifnotbold.

"Didhealsogiveyouthekeyofhisdesk?"askedthedetectivedryly.

"Yes,sir,"beamedMr.Milburgh,"ofcoursehedid!Yousee,Mr.Lynetrustedmeabsolutely."

HesaidthissonaturallyandwithsuchassurancethatTarlingwasstaggered.Beforehehadtimetospeaktheotherwenton:

"Yes, I can truthfully say that Iwas inMr.Lyne's confidence.He toldmeagreatdealmoreabouthimselfthanhehastoldanybodyand——"

"Onemoment," saidTarling, and he spoke slowly. "Will you please tellmewhatyoudidwiththerevolverwhichyoufoundonMr.Lyne'sdesk?ItwasaColtautomatic,anditwasloaded."

BlankastonishmentshowedinMr.Milburgh'seyes.

"A loaded pistol?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, "but, my dear goodMr.Tarling,whateverareyoutalkingabout?IneverfoundaloadedpistolonMr.Lyne's desk—poor fellow! Mr. Lyne objected as much to these deadlyweaponsasmyself."

HerewasafacerforTarling,buthebetrayednosigneitherofdisappointmentor surprise. Milburgh was frowning as though he were attempting to piecetogethersomehalf-forgottenrecollection.

"Is it possible," he said in a shocked voice, "that when you examined myhouse theother day itwaswith theobject of discovering such aweapon asthis!"

"It'squitepossible,"saidTarlingcoolly,"andevenprobable.Now,I'mgoingtobeverystraightforwardwithyou,Mr.Milburgh.Isuspectyouknowagreatdealmoreaboutthismurderthanyouhavetoldus,andthatyouhadeversomuchmore reason forwishingMr.Lynewasdead thanyouareprepared toadmitatthismoment.Wait,"hesaid,astheotheropenedhismouthtospeak."IamtellingyoucandidlythattheobjectofmyfirstvisittotheseStoreswas

toinvestigatehappeningswhichlookedveryblackagainstyou.Itwashardlysomuch thework of a detective as an accountant," he said, "butMr. LynethoughtthatIshouldbeabletodiscoverwhowasrobbingthefirm."

"Anddid you?" askedMilburgh coolly.Therewas the ghost of a smile stilluponhisface,butdefianceshoneinhispaleeyes.

"Ididnot,becauseIwentnofurtherinthematterafteryouhadexpressedyouragreementwithMr.LynethatthefirmhadbeenrobbedbyOdetteRider."

Hesawthemanchangecolour,andpushedhomehisadvantage.

"Iamnotgoingtoinquiretoocloselyintoyourreasonsforattemptingtoruinaninnocentgirl,"hesaidsternly."That isamatterforyourownconscience.ButItellyou,Mr.Milburgh,thatifyouareinnocent—bothoftherobberyandofthemurder—thenI'venevermetaguiltypersoninmylife."

"What do you mean?" asked the man loudly. "Do you dare to accuse me——?"

"I accuse you of nothingmore than this," said Tarling, "that I am perfectlysatisfiedthatyouhavebeenrobbingthefirmforyears.Iamequallysatisfiedthat,evenifyoudidnotkillMr.Lyne,youatleastknowwhodid."

"You'remad,"sneeredMilburgh,buthis facewaswhite. "Supposing itweretruethatIhadrobbedthefirm,whyshouldIwanttokillMr.ThorntonLyne?The mere fact of his death would have brought an examination into theaccounts."

Thiswasaconvincingargument—themore soas itwasanargumentwhichTarlinghimselfhademployed.

"Astoyourabsurdandmelodramaticchargesofrobbingthefirm,"Milburghwent on, "the books are now in the hands of an eminent firm of charteredaccountants,whocangivethelietoanysuchstatementasyouhavemade."

He had recovered something of his old urbanity, and now stood, or ratherstraddled, with his legs apart, his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat,beamingbenignlyuponthedetective.

"I await the investigation of that eminent firm, Messrs. Dashwood andSolomon,witheveryconfidenceandwithout the leastperturbation,"hesaid."Theirfindingswillvindicatemyhonourbeyondanyquestion.Ishallseethismatterthrough!"

Tarlinglookedathim.

"Iadmireyournerve,"hesaid,andlefttheofficewithoutanotherword.

CHAPTERXXICOVERINGTHETRAIL

TarlinghadabriefinterviewwithhisassistantWhiteside,andtheInspector,tohissurprise,acceptedhisviewofLingChu'sconfession.

"I always thought Milburgh was a pretty cool customer," Whiteside saidthoughtfully. "But he has more gall than I gave him credit for. I wouldcertainlyprefertobelieveyourChinkthanIwouldbelieveMilburgh.And,bytheway,youryoungladyhasslippedtheshadow."

"Whatareyoutalkingabout?"askedTarlinginsurprise.

"I am referring to your Miss Odette Rider—and why on earth a grown-uppoliceofficerwithyourexperienceshouldblush,Ican'timagine."

"I'mnotblushing,"saidTarling."Whatabouther?"

"I'vehadtwomenwatchingher,"explainedWhiteside,"andwhenevershehastaken herwalks abroad she has been followed, as you know. In accordancewithyour instructions Iwas takingoff thoseshadows to-morrow,but to-dayshewenttoBondStreet,andeitherJacksonwascareless—itwasJacksonwhowasonthejob—orelsetheyoungladywasverysharp;atanyrate,hewaitedforhalfanhourforhertocomeoutoftheshop,andwhenshedidn'tappearhewalkedinandfoundtherewasanotherentrancethroughwhichshehadgone.Sincethenshehasnotbeenbacktothehotel."

"I don't like that," said Tarling, a little troubled. "I wished her to be underobservationasmuchforherownprotectionasanythingelse.Iwishyouwouldkeepamanatthehotelandtelephonemejustassoonasshereturns."

Whitesidenodded.

"I'veanticipatedyourwishesinthatrespect,"hesaid."Well,whatisthenextmove?"

"I'mgoingtoHertfordtoseeMissRider'smother;andincidentally,ImaypickupMissRider,whoisverylikelytohavegonehome."

Whitesidenodded.

"Whatdoyouexpecttofindoutfromthemother?"heasked.

"Iexpecttolearnagreatdeal,"saidTarling."Thereisstillaminormysterytobediscovered.Forexample,whoisthemysteriousmanwhocomesandgoestoHertford,andjustwhyisMrs.Riderlivinginluxurywhilstherdaughteris

workingforherlivingatLyne'sStore?"

"There's something in that," agreedWhiteside. "Wouldyou likeme tocomealongwithyou?"

"Thanks,"smiledTarling,"Icandothatlittlejobbymyself."

"RevertingtoMilburgh,"beganWhiteside.

"AswealwaysreverttoMilburgh,"groanedTarling."Yes?"

"Well,Idon'tlikehisassurance,"saidWhiteside."Itlooksasifallourhopesof getting a clue from the examination of Lyne's accounts are fated to bedashed."

"There'ssomethinginthat,"saidTarling."Idon'tlikeitmyself.Thebooksarein the hands of one of the best chartered accountants in the country, and iftherehasbeenanymonkeybusiness,heisthefellowwhoiscertaintofindit;and not only that, but to trace whatever defalcations there are to the manresponsible.Milburghisnotfoolenoughtoimaginethathewon'tbefoundoutoncetheaccountantsgetbusy,andhischeerinessinfaceofexposureistosaytheleastdisconcerting."

Their little conferencewasbeingheld in aprosaicpublic tea-roomoppositetheHouseofCommons—atea-roomthewallsofwhich,hadtheyears,couldhavetoldnotafewofScotlandYard'smostprecioussecrets.

Tarling was on the point of changing the subject when he remembered theparcelofbookswhichhadarrivedattheaccountant'sofficethatmorning.

"Ratherlate,"saidWhitesidethoughtfully."ByJove!Iwonder!"

"Youwonderwhat?"

"IwonderiftheywerethethreebooksthatMilburghboughtyesterday?"

"Thethreeledgers?"

Whitesidenodded.

"Butwhyonearthshouldhewanttoputinthreenewledgers—theywerenew,weren'tthey?Thatdoesn'tseemtometobeaveryintelligentsuggestion.Andyet——"

Hejumpedup,almostupsettingthetableinhisexcitement.

"Quick,Whiteside!GetacabwhileIsettlethebill,"hesaid.

"Whereareyougoing?"

"Hurry up and get the cab!" said Tarling, and when he had rejoined his

companionoutside,andthetaxiwasbowlingalongtheThamesEmbankment:"I'mgoingtoSt.MaryAxe."

"SoIgatheredfromyourdirectionstothecabman,"saidWhiteside."ButwhySt.MaryAxeat this timeof theafternoon?Thevery respectableDashwoodandSolomonwillnotbegladtoseeyouuntilto-morrow."

"I'mgoingtoseethesebooks,"saidTarling,"thebookswhichMilburghsenttotheaccountantsthismorning."

"Whatdoyouexpecttofind?"

"I'lltellyoulater,"wasTarling'sreply.Helookedathiswatch."Theywon'tbeclosedyet,thankheaven!"

The taxi was held up at the juncture of the Embankment and BlackfriarsBridge,andwasheldupagainforadifferentreasoninQueenVictoriaStreet.Suddenlytherewasaclang-clangofgongs,andalltrafficdrewtoonesidetoallowthepassageofaflyingmotorfire-engine.Anotherandanotherfollowedinsuccession.

"Abigfire,"saidWhiteside."Oritmaybealittleone,becausetheygetverypanickyintheCity,andthey'llputinadivisionalcallforasmokingchimney!"

Thecabmovedon,andhadcrossedCannonStreet,whenitwasagainheldupbyanotherroaringmotor,thistimebearingafireescape.

"Let'sgetoutofthecab;we'llwalk,"saidTarling.

Theyjumpedout,andWhitesidepaidthedriver.

"Thisway,"saidTarling."We'llmakeashortcut."

Whitesidehadstoppedtospeaktoapoliceman.

"Where'sthefire,constable?"heasked.

"St. Mary Axe, sir," was the policeman's reply. "A big firm of charteredaccountants—DashwoodandSolomon.Youknowthem,sir?I'mtoldtheplaceisblazingfromcellartogarret."

Tarlingshowedhisteethinanunamusedgrinasthewordscametohim.

"AndalltheproofofMilburgh'sguiltgoneupinsmoke,eh?"hesaid."IthinkIknowwhat thosebookscontained—a little clockworkdetonator anda fewpoundsofthermitetoburnupallthecluestotheDaffodilMurder!"

CHAPTERXXII

THEHEAVYWALLET

All that remained of the once stately, if restricted, premises of Messrs.DashwoodandSolomonwasagaunt-lookingfrontwall,blackenedbythefire.TarlinginterviewedtheChiefoftheFireBrigade.

"It'll be days beforewe can get inside," said thatworthy, "and I verymuchdoubtifthere'sanythingleftintact.Thewholeofthebuildinghasbeenburntout—you can see for yourself the roof has gone in—and there's very littlechanceofrecoveringanythingofaninflammablenatureunless ithappenstobeinasafe."

Tarling caught sight of the brusque Sir Felix Solomon gazing, without anyvisibleevidenceofdistress,uponthewreckageofhisoffice.

"We are covered by insurance," said Sir Felix philosophically, "and there isnothing of any great importance, except, of course, those documents andbooksfromLyne'sStore."

"Theyweren'tinthefire-proofvault?"askedTarling,andSirFelixshookhishead.

"No,"he said, "theywere in a strong-room;andcuriouslyenough, itwas inthatstrongroomwherethefireoriginated.Theroomitselfwasnotfire-proof,and itwould have been precious little use if it had been, as the fire startedinside. The first news we received was when a clerk, going down to thebasement,sawflamesleapingoutbetweenthesteelbarswhichconstitutethedoorofNo.4vault."

Tarlingnodded.

"I need not ask you whether the books which Mr. Milburgh brought thismorninghadbeenplacedinthatsafe,SirFelix,"hesaid,andtheknightlookedsurprised.

"Ofcoursenot.Theywereplacedtherewhilstyouwereintheoffice,"hesaid."Whydoyouask?"

"Because inmy judgment those bookswere not books at all in the usuallyunderstoodsense.UnlessIamatfault,theparcelcontainedthreebigledgersglued together, the contents being hollowed out and that hollow filledwiththermite,aclockworkdetonator,orthenecessaryelectricapparatustostartasparkatagivenmoment."

Theaccountantstaredathim.

"You'rejoking,"hesaid,butTarlingshookhishead.

"Iwasnevermoreseriousinmylife."

"Butwhowouldcommitsuchaninfernalactasthat?Why,oneofmyclerkswasnearlyburnttodeath!"

"Themanwhowouldcommit suchan infernalactas that," repeatedTarlingslowly,"isthemanwhohaseveryreasonforwishingtoavoidanexaminationofLyne'saccounts."

"Youdon'tmean——?"

"I'llmentionnonamesforthemoment,andifinadvertentlyIhaveconveyedtheidentityofthegentlemanofwhomIhavebeenspeaking,Ihopeyouwillbegoodenoughtoregarditasconfidential,"saidTarling,andwentbacktohiscrestfallensubordinate.

"No wonderMilburgh was satisfied with the forthcoming examination," hesaidbitterly."Thedevilhadplantedthatparcel,andhadtimeditprobablytotheminute.Well,there'snothingmoretobedoneto-night—withMilburgh."

Helookedathiswatch.

"I'mgoingbacktomyflat,andafterwardstoHertford,"hesaid.

HehadmadenodefiniteplanastowhatlineheshouldpursueafterhereachedHertford. He had a dim notion that his investigation hereabouts might, ifproperly directed, lead him nearer to the heart of the mystery. This pretty,faded woman who lived in such style, and whose husband was so seldomvisible,might give him a key. Somewhere it was in existence, that key, bywhich he could decipher the jumbled code of the Daffodil Murder, and itmightaswellbeatHertfordasnearerathand.

Itwas darkwhen he came to the home ofMrs.Rider, for this time he haddispensedwith a cab, andhadwalked the longdistancebetween the stationand the house, desiring to avoid attention. The dwelling stood on themainroad. It had a highwall frontage of about three hundred and fifty feet. Thewallwascontinueddownthesideofalane,andattheotherendmarkedtheboundaryofabigpaddock.

Theentrancetothegroundswasthroughawrought-irongateofstrength,thedesignofwhichrecalledsomethingwhichhehadseenbefore.Onhispreviousvisitthegatehadbeenunfastened,andhehadhadnodifficultyinreachingthehouse.Now,however,itwaslocked.

Heputhisflashlightoverthegateandthesupportingpiers,anddiscoveredabell,evidentlybrandnew,andrecentlyfixed.Hemadenoattempttopressthelittlewhitebutton,butcontinuedhisreconnaissance.Abouthalf-a-dozenyardsinside the gateway was a small cottage, from which a light showed, and

apparentlythebellcommunicatedwiththisdwelling.Whilsthewaswaiting,heheardawhistleandaquickfootstepcominguptheroad,anddrewintotheshadow.Somebodycametothegate;heheardthefainttinkleofabellandadooropened.

Thenew-comerwasanewspaperboy,whopushedabundleofeveningpapersthrough the iron bars andwent off again. Tarlingwaited until he heard thedoorofthecottageorlodgeclose.Thenhemadeacircuitofthehouse,hopingtofindanotherentrance.Therewasevidentlyaservants'entranceattheback,leadingfromthelane,butthistoowasclosed.Throwinghislightup,hesawthattherewasnobrokenglassontopofthewall,astherehadbeeninthefrontof the house, and, making a jump, he caught the stone coping and drewhimselfupandastride.

He dropped into the darkness on the other side without any discomfort tohimself,andmadehiscautiouswaytowardsthehouse.Dogswerethedanger,but apparently Mrs. Rider did not keep dogs, and his progress wasunchallenged.

Hesawnolighteitherintheupperorlowerwindowsuntilhegottotheback.Herewasapillared-porch,abovewhichhadbeenbuiltwhatappearedtobeaconservatory.Beneaththeporchwasadoorandabarredwindow,butitwasfromtheconservatoryabovethatafaintlightemanated.Helookedroundforaladderwithoutsuccess.Buttheporticopresentednomoredifficultiesthanthewall had done. By stepping on to the window-sill and steadying himselfagainst one of the pillars, he could reach an iron stanchion, which hadevidently been placed to support the framework of the superstructure. Fromheretotheparapetoftheconservatoryitselfwasbutaswing.Thisglass-househadcasementwindows,oneofwhichwasopen,andheleanedonhiselbowsandcautiouslyintrudedhishead.

The placewas empty. The light came from an inner room opening into theglassshelteredbalcony.Quicklyheslippedthroughthewindowsandcrouchedundertheshadowofabigoleander.Theatmosphereoftheconservatorywascloseandthesmellwasearthy.Hejudgedfromthehot-waterpipeswhichhisgropinghandsfeltthatitwasatinywintergardenerectedbytheownerofthehouseforherenjoyment in thedark,colddays.Frenchwindowsadmittedtothe inner room, and, peering through the casement curtains which coveredthem,TarlingsawMrs.Rider.Shewassittingatadesk,apeninherhand,herchinonherfinger-tips.Shewasnotwriting,butstaringblanklyatthewall,asthoughshewereatalossforwhattosay.

The light came from a big alabaster bowl hanging a foot below the ceilinglevel,anditgavethedetectiveanopportunityofmakingaswiftexamination.Theroomwasfurnishedsimplyifinperfecttaste,andhadtheappearanceofa

study.Besideherdeskwasagreensafe,halfletintothewallandhalfexposed.Therewere a few prints hanging on thewalls, a chair or two, a couch halfhidden from the detective's view, and that was all. He had expected to seeOdetteRiderwithhermother,andwasdisappointed.NotonlywasMrs.Rideralone,but sheconveyed the impression that shewaspracticallyalone in thehouse.

Tarlingknelt,watchingher,fortenminutes,untilheheardasoundoutside.Hecreptsoftlybackandlookedovertheedgeoftheporticointimetoseeafiguremovingswiftlyalong thepath. Itwas ridingabicyclewhichdidnotcarryalight.Thoughhestrainedhiseyes,hecouldnottellwhethertheriderwasmanorwoman. It disappeared under the portico and he heard the grating of themachineasitwasleantagainstoneofthepillars,theclickofakeyinthelockandthesoundofadooropening.Thenhecreptbacktohisobservationpostoverlookingthestudy.

Mrs.Riderhadevidentlynotheardthesoundofthedooropeningbelow,andsatwithoutmovementstillstaringatthewallbeforeher.Presentlyshestartedand looked round towards the door. Tarling noted the door—noted, too theelectricswitchjustinview.Thenthedooropenedslowly.HesawMrs.Rider'sfacelightupwithpleasure,thensomebodyaskedaquestioninawhisper,andsheanswered—hecouldjusthearherwords:

"Nodarling,nobody."

Tarlingheldhisbreath andwaited.Then,of a sudden, the light in the roomwasextinguished.Whoeverhadenteredhad turnedout the light.Heheardasoftfootfallcomingtowardsthewindowlookingintotheconservatoryandtherattleoftheblindsastheywerelowered.Thenthelightwentupagain,buthecouldseenothingorhearnothing.

Who was Mrs. Rider's mysterious visitor? There was only one way todiscover,buthewaitedalittlelonger—waited,infact,untilheheardthesoftslamofasafedoorclosing—beforeheslippedagainthroughthewindowanddroppedtotheground.

The bicyclewas, as he had expected, leaning against one of the pillars.Hecouldseenothing,anddidnotdareflashhislamp,buthissensitivefingersranoveritslines,andhebarelycheckedanexclamationofsurprise.Itwasalady'sbicycle!

Hewaitedalittlewhile,thenwithdrewtoashrubberyoppositethedoorontheothersideofthedriveupwhichthecyclisthadcome.Hehadnotlongtowaitbeforethedoorundertheporticoopenedagainandclosed.SomebodyjumpedontothebicycleasTarlingleapedfromhisplaceofconcealment.Hepressedthekeyofhiselectriclamp,butforsomereasonitdidnotact.Hefeltrather

thanheardashiverofsurprisefromthepersononthemachine.

"Iwantyou,"saidTarling,andputouthishands.

Hemissedtheriderbythefractionofaninch,butsawthemachineswerveandheardthesoftthudofsomethingfalling.Asecondlaterthemachineandriderhaddisappearedinthepitchdarkness.

Here-fixedhis lamp.Pursuit,heknew,wasuselesswithouthis lantern,and,cursingthemakerthereof,headjustedanotherbattery,andputthelightonthegroundtoseewhatitwasthatthefugitivehaddropped.Hethoughtheheardasmothered exclamation behind him and turned swiftly. But nobody camewithin the radius of his lamp. He must be getting nervy, he thought, andcontinuedhisinspectionofthewallet.

Itwasa long, leatherportfolio,about ten inches in lengthandfive inches indepth,anditwasstrangelyheavy.Hepickeditup,feltfortheclasp,andfoundinstead two tiny locks. He made another examination by the light of hislantern,anexaminationwhichwasinterruptedbyachallengefromabove.

"Whoareyou?"

ItwasMrs.Rider'svoice,andjustthenitwasinconvenientforhimtorevealhimself.Withoutawordinanswer,heswitchedoffhislightandslippedintothe bushes, and, more as the result of instinct than judgment, regained thewall,atalmosttheexactspothehadcrossedit.

Theroadwasempty,andtherewasnosignofthecyclist.Therewasonlyonething to do and that was to get back to town as quickly as possible andexaminethecontentsofthewalletathisleisure.Itwasextraordinaryheavyforitssize,hewasremindedofthatfactbyhissaggingpocket.

TheroadbacktoHertfordseemedinterminableandtheclockswerechimingaquarterofelevenwhenheenteredthestationyard.

"TraintoLondon,sir?"saidtheporter."You'vemissedthelasttraintoLondonbyfiveminutes!"

CHAPTERXXIIITHENIGHTVISITOR

Tarlingwas less inadilemma than in thatconditionofuncertaintywhich isproduced by having no definite plans one way or the other. There was noimmediate necessity for his return to townandhis annoyance at finding the

lasttraingonewasduerathertoanaturaldesiretosleepinhisownbed,thantoanyothercause.Hemighthavegotacarfromalocalgarage,andmotoredtoLondon, if therehadbeenanyparticularurgency,but,he toldhimself,hemightaswellspendthenightinHertfordasinBondStreet.

If he had any leanings towards staying at Hertford it was because he wasanxioustoexaminethecontentsofthewalletathisleisure.Ifhehadanycallto town it might be discovered in his anxiety as to what had happened toOdette Rider; whether she had returned to her hotel or was still marked"missing"by thepolice.Hecould, at any rate,get intocommunicationwithScotlandYard and satisfy hismind on that point. He turned back from thestation in search of lodgings.Hewas to find that it was not so easy to getroomsashehadimagined.Thebesthotel intheplacewascrowdedoutasaresultofanagriculturalconventionwhichwasbeingheldinthetown.Hewassentontoanotherhotel,onlytofindthatthesamestateofcongestionexisted,and finally after half an hour's search he found accommodation at a smallcommercialhotelwhichwassurprisinglyempty.

His first step was to get into communication with London and this wasestablishedwithout delay.Nothing had been heard ofOdetteRider, and theonlynewsofimportancewasthattheex-convict,SamStay,hadescapedfromthecountylunaticasylumtowhichhehadbeenremoved.

Tarlingwentuptothecommodioussitting-room.HewasmildlyinterestedinthenewsaboutStay, for themanhadbeen adisappointment.This criminal,whose love for Thornton Lyne had, as Tarling suspected rightly, beenresponsible for his mental collapse, might have supplied a great deal ofinformation as to the eventswhich ledup to thedayof themurder, andhisdramaticbreakdownhadremovedawitnesswhomighthaveofferedmaterialassistancetothepolice.

Tarlingclosedthedoorofhissitting-roombehindhim,pulledthewalletfromhispocketandlaiditonthetable.Hetriedfirstwithhisownkeystounfastenthe flapbut the locksdefiedhim.Theheavinessof thewallet surprised andpiqued him, but he was soon to find an explanation for its extraordinaryweight.Heopenedhispocket-knifeandbegan tocutaway the leatheraboutthelocks,andutteredanexclamation.

So thatwas the reason for the heaviness of the pouch—itwas only leather-covered!Beneath this coverwas a lining of fine steelmail. Thewalletwasreally a steel chain bag, the locks beingwelded to the chain and absolutelyimmovable. He threw the wallet back on the table with a laugh. He mustrestrainhis curiosityuntil hegotback to theYard,where the expertswouldmake shortwork of the best lockswhichwere ever invented.Whilst he satwatchingthethinguponthetableandturningoverinhismindthepossibility

of its contents, he heard footsteps pass his door and mount the stairwayoppositewhich his sitting-roomwas situated.Visitors in the same plight ashimself,hethought.

Somehow,being inastrange roomamidstunfamiliar surroundings,gave thecaseanewaspect.Itwasanaspectofunreality.Theywereallsounreal,thecharactersinthisstrangedrama.

ThorntonLyneseemedfantastic,andfantasticindeedwashisend.Milburgh,withhisperpetualsmirk,hislittlestoop,hisbroad,fatfaceandhalf-baldhead;Mrs.Rider, a pale ghost of awomanwho flitted in and out of the story, orratherhoveredaboutit,neverseemingtointrude,yetneverwhollyseparatedfrom its tragic process; Ling Chu, imperturbable, bringing with him theatmosphere of that land of intrigue andmystery andmotive, China. OdetteRideralonewasreal.Shewaslife;warm,palpitating,wonderful.

Tarlingfrownedandrosestifflyfromhischair.Hedespisedhimselfalittleforthisweaknessofhis.OdetteRider!Awomanstillundersuspicionofmurder,awomanwhomitwashisduty,ifshewereguilty,tobringtothescaffold,andthethoughtofherturnedhimhotandcold!

He passed through to his bedroomwhich adjoined the sitting-room, put thewalletonatablebythesideofhisbed,lockedthebedroomdoor,openedthewindowsandpreparedhimself,asbesthecould,forthenight.

TherewasatrainleavingHertfordatfiveinthemorningandhehadarrangedtobecalledintimetocatchit.Hetookoffhisboots,coat,vest,collarandtie,unbuckled his belt—he was one of those eccentrics to whom the braces ofcivilisationwereanathema—andlaydownontheoutsideof thebed,pullingtheeiderdownoverhim.Sleepdidnotcome tohimreadily.He turned fromsidetoside,thinking,thinking,thinking.

SupposetherehadbeensomemistakeinthetimeoftheaccidentatAshford?Suppose the doctors were wrong and Thornton Lyne was murdered at anearlier hour? Suppose Odette Rider was in reality a cold-blooded——. Hegrowledawaythethought.

Heheard thechurchclockstrike thehourof twoandwaited impatiently forthequartertochime—hehadheardeveryquartersincehehadretiredtobed.Buthedidnothearthatquarter.Hemusthavefallenintoanuneasysleepforhebegantodream.HedreamthewasinChinaagainandhadfallenintothehandsofthatbanefulsociety,the"CheerfulHearts."Hewasinatemple,lyingonagreatblackslabofstone,boundhandandfoot,andabovehimhesawtheleaderofthegang,knifeinhand,peeringdownintohisfacewithamaliciousgrin—anditwasthefaceofOdetteRider!Hesawthekniferaisedandwokesweating.

Thechurchclockwasboomingthreeandadeepsilencelayontheworld.Buttherewassomebodyinhisroom.Heknewthatandlaymotionless,peeringoutofhalf-closedeyesfromonecornertotheother.Therewasnobodytobeseen,nothingtobeheard,buthissixthsensetoldhimthatsomebodywaspresent.Hereachedouthishandcarefullyandsilentlytothetableandsearchedforthewallet.Itwasgone!

Thenheheardthecreakofaboardanditcamefromthedirectionofthedoorleadingtothesitting-room.Withoneboundhewasoutofbedintimetoseethedoorflungopenandafigureslipthrough.Hewasafteritinasecond.Theburglarmighthaveescaped,butunexpectedlytherewasacrashandacry.HehadfallenoverachairandbeforehecouldriseTarlingwasonhimandhadflung him back. He leapt to the door, it was open. He banged it close andturnedthekey.

"Now,let'shavealookatyou,"saidTarlinggrimlyandswitchedonthelight.

Hefellbackagainstthedoor,hismouthopeninamazement,fortheintruderwasOdetteRider,andinherhandsheheldthestolenwallet.

CHAPTERXXIVTHECONFESSIONOFODETTERIDER

Hecouldonlygazeinstupifiedsilence.

"You!"hesaidwonderingly.

Thegirlwaspaleandhereyesneverlefthisface.

Shenodded.

"Yes,itisI,"shesaidinalowvoice.

"You!"hesaidagainandwalkedtowardsher.

Heheldouthishandandshegavehimthewalletwithoutaword.

"Sitdown,"hesaidkindly.

Hethoughtshewasgoingtofaint.

"IhopeIdidn'thurtyou?Ihadn'ttheslightestidea——"

Sheshookherhead.

"Oh,I'mnothurt,"shesaidwearily,"nothurtinthewayyoumean."

She drew a chair to the table and dropped her face upon her hands and hestoodby,embarrassed,almostterrified,bythisunexpecteddevelopment.

"Soyouwerethevisitoronthebicycle,"hesaidatlast."Ididn'tsuspect——"

ItstruckhimatthatmomentthatitwasnotanoffenceforOdetteRidertogouptohermother'shouseonabicycle,oreventotakeawayawalletwhichwasprobablyhers.Iftherewasanycrimeatall,hehadcommitteditinretainingsomethingtowhichhehadnoright.Shelookedupathiswords.

"I?Onthebicycle?"sheasked."No,itwasnotI."

"Notyou?"

Sheshookherhead.

"Iwasinthegrounds—IsawyouusingyourlampandIwasquiteclosetoyouwhen you picked up the wallet," she said listlessly, "but I was not on thebicycle."

"Whowasit?"heasked.

Sheshookherhead.

"MayIhavethatplease?"

Sheheldoutherhandandhehesitated.

After all, he had no right or title to this curious purse.He compromised byputtingitonthetableandshedidnotattempttotakeit.

"Odette," he said gently and walked round to her, laying his hand on hershoulder."Whydon'tyoutellme?"

"Tellyouwhat?"sheasked,withoutlookingup.

"Tellmeallthereistobetold,"hesaid."Icouldhelpyou.Iwanttohelpyou."

Shelookedupathim.

"Whydoyouwanttohelpme?"sheaskedsimply.

Hewastongue-tiedforasecond.

"BecauseIloveyou,"hesaid,andhisvoiceshook.

It did not seem to him that he was talking. The words came of their ownvolition.Hehadnomoreintentionoftellingherhelovedher,indeedhehadnomore idea that he did love her, thanWhiteside would have had. Yet heknewhespokethetruthandthatapowergreaterthanhehadframedthewordsandputthemonhislips.

Theeffecton thegirlseemedextraordinary tohim.Shedidnotshrinkback,she did not look surprised. She showed no astonishmentwhatever. She justbroughthereyesbacktothetableandsaid:"Oh!"

Thatcalm,almostuncannilycalmacceptanceofafactwhichTarlinghadnotdaredtobreathetohimself,wasthesecondshockoftheevening.

Itwasasthoughshehadknownitallalong.Hewasonhiskneesbyhersideandhisarmwasabouthershoulders,evenbeforehisbrainhadwilledtheact.

"Mygirl,mygirl,"hesaidgently."Won'tyoupleasetellme?"

Herheadwasstillbentandhervoicewassolowastobealmostinaudible.

"Tellyouwhat?"sheasked.

"Whatyouknowofthisbusiness,"hesaid."Don'tyourealisehoweverynewdevelopmentbringsyoumoreandmoreundersuspicion?"

"Whatbusinessdoyoumean?"

Hehesitated.

"ThemurderofThorntonLyne?Iknownothingofthat."

Shemadenoresponsetothattenderarmofhis,butsatrigid.Somethinginherattitudechilledhimandhedroppedherhandandrose.Whenshe lookedupshesawthathisfacewaswhiteandset.Hewalkedtothedoorandunlockedit.

"I'mnotgoingtoaskyouanymore,"hesaidquietly."Youknowbestwhyyoucame tome to-night—I suppose you followedme and took a room. I heardsomebodygoingupstairssoonafterIarrived."

Shenodded.

"Doyouwant—this?"sheaskedandpointedtothewalletonthetable.

"Takeitawaywithyou."

Shegotuptoherfeetunsteadilyandswayedtowardhim.Inasecondhewasbyher side,his armsabouther.Shemadeno resistance,but ratherhe felt ayieldingtowardshimwhichhehadmissedbefore.Herpalefacewasupturnedtohisandhestoopedandkissedher.

"Odette!Odette!"hewhispered."Don'tyourealisethatIloveyouandwouldgivemy life to save you from unhappiness?Won't you tell me everything,please?"

"No,no,no,"shemurmuredwithalittlecatchinhervoice."Pleasedon'taskme!Iamafraid.Oh,Iamafraid!"

Hecrushedher inhisarms,hischeekagainsthers,his lips tinglingwith thecaressofherhair.

"Butthereisnothingtobeafraidof,nothing,"hesaideagerly."Ifyouwereasguiltyashell,Iwouldsaveyou!IfyouareshieldingsomebodyIwouldshieldthembecauseIloveyou,Odette!"

"No,no!"shecriedandpushedhimback,bothherlittlehandspressingagainsthischest."Don'taskme,don'taskme——"

"Askme!"

Tarlingswunground.Therewasamanstandinginthedoorway,intheactofclosingthedoorbehindhim.

"Milburgh!"hesaidbetweenhisteeth.

"Milburgh!"smiledtheothermockingly."Iamsorrytointerruptthisbeautifulscene, but the occasion is a desperate one and I cannot afford to stand onceremony,Mr.Tarling."

Tarling put the girl from him and looked at the smirking manager. Onecomprehensiveglancethedetectivegavehim,notedthecyclingclipsandthesplashesofmudonhistrousers,andunderstood.

"Soyouwerethecyclist,eh?"hesaid.

"That'sright,"saidMilburgh,"itisanexercisetowhichIamverypartial."

"Whatdoyouwant?"askedTarling,alertandwatchful.

"Iwantyoutocarryoutyourpromise,Mr.Tarling,"saidMilburghsmoothly.

Tarlingstaredathim.

"Mypromise,"hesaid,"whatpromise?"

"To protect, not only the evil-doer, but those who have compromisedthemselvesinanefforttoshieldtheevil-doerfromhisorherownwickedact."

Tarlingstarted.

"Doyoumeantosay——"hesaidhoarsely."Doyoumeantoaccuse——?"

"Iaccusenobody,"saidMilburghwithawidesweepofhishands."Imerelysuggest thatbothMissRiderandmyselfare inveryserious troubleand thatyouhave it in your power to get us safelyout of this country to onewhereextraditionlawscannotfollow."

TarlingtookonesteptowardshimandMilburghshrankback.

"DoyouaccuseMissRiderofcomplicityinthismurder?"hedemanded.

Milburghsmiled,butitwasanuneasysmile.

"I make no accusation," he said, "and as to the murder?" he shrugged hisshoulders. "You will understand better when you read the contents of thatwalletwhichIwasendeavouringtoremovetoaplaceofsafety."

Tarlingpickedupthewalletfromthetableandlookedatit.

"Ishallseethecontentsofthiswalletto-morrow,"hesaid."Lockswillpresentverylittledifficulty—"

"Youcanreadthecontentsto-night,"saidMilburghsmoothly,andpulledfromhispocketachain,attheendofwhichdangledasmallbunchofkeys."Hereisthekey,"hesaid."Unlockandreadto-night."

Tarlingtookthekeyinhishand,insertedit infirstonetinylockandthenintheother.Thecatchessnappedopenandhethrewbacktheflap.Thenahandsnatchedtheportfoliofromhimandheturnedtoseethegirl'squiveringfaceandreadtheterrorinhereyes.

"No,no!"shecried,almostbesideherself,"no,forGod'ssake,no!"

Tarlingsteppedback.HesawthemaliciouslittlesmileonMilburgh'sfaceandcouldhavestruckhimdown.

"MissRiderdoesnotwishmetoseewhatisinthiscase,"hesaid.

"Andforanexcellentreason,"sneeredMilburgh.

"Here!"

Itwas thegirl'svoice, surprisinglyclearandsteady.Hershakinghandsheldthepapershehadtakenfromthewalletandshethrustittowardthedetective.

"There is a reason," she said in a low voice. "But it is not the reason yousuggest."

Milburgh had gone too far. Tarling saw his face lengthen and the look ofapprehensioninhiscoldblueeyes.Then,withoutfurtherhesitation,heopenedthepaperandread.

Thefirstlinetookawayhisbreath.

"THECONFESSIONOFODETTERIDER."

"GoodGod!"hemutteredandreadon.Therewereonlyhalfadozenlinesandtheywereinthefirmcaligraphyofthegirl.

"I,OdetteRider,herebyconfess that for threeyears Ihavebeenrobbing thefirmofLyne'sStores,Limited,andduringthatperiodhavetakenthesumof£25,000."

Tarlingdroppedthepaperandcaughtthegirlasshefainted.

CHAPTERXXVMILBURGH'SLASTBLUFF

Milburghhadgonetoofar.Hehadhopedtocarrythroughthisscenewithoutthe actual disclosure of the confession. In his shrewd, clever way he hadrealisedbeforeTarlinghimself, that thedetectivefromShanghai, thisheir totheLynemillions, had fallenunder the spell of thegirl's beauty, and all hisconjectureshadbeenconfirmedbythescenehehadwitnessed,nolessthanbytheconversationhehadoverheardbeforethedoorwasopened.

Hewas seeking immunity and safety. Themanwas in a panic, though thisTarlingdid not realise, andwasmakinghis last desperate throw for the lifethathe loved, that lifeofeaseandcomfort tosecurewhichhehadriskedsomuch.

MilburghhadlivedinterrorthatOdetteRiderwouldbetrayhim,andbecauseofhispanickyfearthatshehadtoldalltothedetectivethatnighthebroughther back toLondon fromAshford, he had dared attempt to silence themanwhomhebelievedwastherecipientofthegirl'sconfidence.

Those shots in the foggy night which had nearly ended the career of JackTarlinghadtheirexplanationinMilburgh'sterrorofexposure.Onepersonintheworld,one livingperson,couldplacehim in the felon'sdock,and if shebetrayedhim——

Tarlinghadcarriedthegirltoacouchandhadlaidherdown.Hewentquicklyinto his bedroom, switching on the light, to get a glass of water. It wasMilburgh'sopportunity.Alittlefirewasburninginthesitting-room.Swiftlyhepickedtheconfessionfromthefloorandthrustitintohispocket.

Onalittletablestoodawritingcabinet.Fromthishetookasheetofthehotelpaper,crumpled itupand thrust it into the fire. ItwasblazingwhenTarlingreturned.

"Whatareyoudoing?"heasked,haltingbythesideofthecouch.

"Iamburning theyoung lady'sconfession,"saidMilburghcalmly."Idonotthinkitisdesirableintheinterests——"

"Wait,"saidTarlingcalmly.

He lowered thegirl'sheadandsprinkledsomeof thewateronher face,and

sheopenedhereyeswithalittleshudder.

Tarlingleftherforasecondandwalkedtothefire.Thepaperwasburntsaveascrapoftheedgethathadnotcaught,andthisheliftedgingerly,lookedatitforamoment, thencasthiseyes round the room.Hesaw that thestationerycabinet had been disturbed and laughed. It was neither a pleasant nor anamusedlaugh.

"That'stheidea,eh?"hesaid,walkedtothedoor,closeditandstoodwithhisbacktoit.

"Now,Milburgh,youcangivemethatconfessionyou'vegotinyourpocket."

"I'veburntit,Mr.Tarling."

"You'realiar,"saidTarlingcalmly."YouknewverywellIwouldn'tletyougooutofthisroomwiththatconfessioninyourpocketandyoutriedtobluffmebyburningasheetofwriting-paper.Iwantthatconfession."

"Iassureyou——"beganMilburgh.

"Iwant thatconfession,"saidTarling,andwithasicklysmile.Milburghputhishandinhispocketanddrewoutthecrumpledsheet.

"Now, if you are anxious to see it burn," said Tarling, "you will have anopportunity."

He read the statement again and put it into the fire,watched it until itwasreducedtoashes,thenbeattheashesdownwithapoker.

"That'sthat,"saidTarlingcheerfully.

"I suppose you knowwhat you've done," saidMilburgh. "You've destroyedevidencewhichyou,asanofficerofthelaw——"

"Cutthatout,"repliedTarlingshortly.

Forthesecondtimethatnightheunlockedthedoorandflungitwideopen.

"Milburgh, you cango. I knowwhere I can findyouwhen Iwant you," hesaid.

"You'llbesorryforthis,"saidMilburgh.

"Not half as sorry as you'll be by the time I'm through with you," retortedTarling.

"IshallgostraighttoScotlandYard,"fumedtheman,whitewithpassion.

"Do,byallmeans,"saidthedetectivecoolly,"andbegoodenoughtoaskthemtodetainyouuntilIcome."

Withthisshotheclosedthedoorupontheretreatingman.

Thegirlwassittingnowontheedgeofthesofa,herbraveeyessurveyingthemanwholovedher.

"Whathaveyoudone?"sheasked.

"I'vedestroyedthatpreciousconfessionofyours,"saidTarlingcheerfully."Itoccurredtomeinthespaceoftimeittooktogetfromyoutomywash-stand,thatthatconfessionmayhavebeenmadeunderpressure.Iamright,aren'tI?"

Shenodded.

"Now,youwaittherealittlewhileImakemyselfpresentableandI'lltakeyouhome."

"Takemehome?" said the startled girl. "Not tomother, no, no.Shemustn'teverknow."

"Onthecontrary,shemustknow.Idon'tknowwhat it isshemustn'tknow,"said Tarling with a little smile, "but there has been a great deal too muchmysteryalready,anditisnotgoingtocontinue."

Sheroseandwalkedtothefireplace,herelbowsonthemantelpiece,andherheadback.

"I'll tell you all I can. Perhaps you're right," she said. "There has been toomuchmystery.YouaskedmeoncewhowasMilburgh."

Sheturnedandhalf-facedhim.

"Iwon'taskyouthatquestionanymore,"hesaidquietly,"Iknow!"

"Youknow?"

"Yes,Milburghisyourmother'ssecondhusband."

Hereyesopened.

"Howdidyoufindoutthat?"

"I guessed that," he smiled, "and she keeps her name Rider at Milburgh'srequest.Heaskedhernot to reveal thefact thatshewasmarriedagain. Isn'tthatso?"

Shenodded.

"Mothermet him about seven years ago.Wewere atHarrogate at the time.Yousee,motherhada littlemoney,andI thinkMr.Milburghthought itwasmuchmorethanitactuallywas.Hewasaveryagreeablemanandtoldmotherthathehadabigbusinessinthecity.Motherbelievesthatheisverywelloff."

Tarlingwhistled.

"Isee,"hesaid."Milburghhasbeenrobbinghisemployersandspendingthemoneyonyourmother."

Sheshookherhead.

"Thatispartlytrueandpartlyuntrue,"shesaid."Motherhasbeenaninnocentparticipant.HeboughtthishouseatHertfordandfurnisheditlavishly,hekepttwo cars until a year ago, when I made him give them up and live moresimply. You don't know what these years have meant, Mr. Tarling, since Idiscoveredhowdeeplymotherwouldbedraggeddownbytheexposureofhisvillainy."

"Howdidyoufinditout?"

"Itwas soonafter themarriage," said thegirl. "Iwent intoLyne'sStoreonedayandoneof theemployeeswas rude tome. I shouldn'thave takenmuchnotice,butanofficiousshop-walkerdismissedthegirlonthespot,andwhenIpleadedforherreinstatement,heinsistedthatIshouldseethemanager.Iwasushered into aprivateoffice, and there I sawMr.Milburgh and realised thekind of double life he was living. He made me keep his secret, painted adreadfulpictureofwhatwouldhappen,andsaidhecouldputeverythingrightif I would come into the business and help him. He told me he had largeinvestmentswhichwere bringing in big sums and that hewould apply thismoney to making good his defalcations. That was why I went into Lyne'sStore,buthebrokehiswordfromtheverybeginning."

"Whydidheputyouthere?"askedTarling.

"Because,iftherehadbeenanotherperson,"saidthegirl,"hemighthavebeendetected. He knew that any inquiries into irregularities of accounts wouldcome first to my department, and he wanted to have somebody there whowould let him know. He did not betray this thought," said the girl, "but Iguessedthatthatwastheideaatthebackofhismind...."

Shewentontotellhimsomethingofthelifeshehadlived,thehumiliationshesufferedinherknowledgeofthedespicablepartshewasplaying.

"FromthefirstIwasanaccessory,"shesaid."ItistruethatIdidnotsteal,butmyreasonforacceptingthepostwasinordertoenablehim,asIthought,toright a grievouswrong and to savemymother from the shame andmiserywhichwouldfollowtheexposureofMilburgh'srealcharacter."

Shelookedathimwithasadlittlesmile.

"I hardly realise that I am speaking to a detective," she said, "and all that Ihavesufferedduringthesepastyearshasbeeninvain;butthetruthmustcome

now,whateverbetheconsequences."

Shepaused.

"AndnowIamgoingtotellyouwhathappenedonthenightofthemurder."

CHAPTERXXVIINMRS.RIDER'SROOM

Therewasadeepsilence.Tarlingcouldfeelhisheartthumpingalmostnoisily.

"After I had left Lyne's Store," she said, "I had decided to go tomother tospend two or three days with her before I began looking for work. Mr.Milburghonlywent toHertford for theweekends, and I couldn't stay in thesamehousewithhim,knowingallthatIknew.

"Ileftmyflatatabouthalf-pastsixthatevening,butIamnotquitesureoftheexact time. Itmusthavebeen somewherenear then,because Iwasgoing tocatchtheseveno'clocktraintoHertford.Iarrivedatthestationandhadtakenmyticket,andwasstoopingtopickupmybag,whenIfeltahandonmyarm,and turning, saw Mr. Milburgh. He was in a state of great agitation anddistress, and asked me to take a later train and accompany him to theFlorentineRestaurant,wherehehadtakenaprivateroom.HetoldmehehadverybadnewsandthatImustknow.

"Iputmybaginthecloak-roomandwentoffwithhim,andoverthedinner—Ionlyhadacupoftea,asamatteroffact—hetoldmethathewasonthevergeofruin.HesaidthatMr.Lynehadsentforadetective(whichwasyou),andhad the intention of exposing him, onlyMr. Lyne's rage againstmewas sogreat,thatforthemomenthewasdivertedfromhispurpose.

"'Onlyyoucansaveme,'saidMilburgh.

"'I?'Isaidinastonishment,'howcanIsaveyou?'

"'Taketheresponsibilityforthetheftuponyourself,'hesaid. 'Yourmotherisinvolvedinthisheavily.'

"'Doessheknow?'

"Henodded.Ifoundafterwardsthathewaslyingtomeandwaspreyinguponmyloveformother.

"Iwasdazedandhorrified,"saidthegirl,"atthethoughtthatpoordearmothermight be involved in this horrible scandal, and when he suggested that I

shouldwriteaconfessionathisdictationandshouldleavebythefirsttrainforthe Continent until the matter blew over, I fell in with his scheme withoutprotest—andthatisall."

"WhydidyoucometoHertfordto-night?"askedTarling.

Againshesmiled.

"Togettheconfession,"shesaidsimply"IknewMilburghwouldkeepitinthesafe.IsawhimwhenIleftthehotel—hehadtelephonedtomeandmadetheappointmentattheshopwhereIslippedthedetectives,anditwastherethathetoldme——"shestoppedsuddenlyandwentred.

"HetoldyouIwasfondofyou,"saidTarlingquietly,andshenodded.

"He threatened to take advantage of that fact, andwanted to show you theconfession."

"Isee,"saidTarling,andheavedadeepsighofrelief."ThankGod!"hesaidfervently.

"Forwhat?"sheasked,lookingathiminastonishment.

"That everything is clear.To-morrow Iwill arrest themurderer ofThorntonLyne!"

"No,no,notthat,"shesaid,andlaidherhandonhisshoulder,herdistressedfacelookingintohis,"surelynotthat.Mr.Milburghcouldnothavedoneit,hecouldnotbesogreatascoundrel."

"Whosentthewiretoyourmothersayingyouwerenotcomingdown?"

"Milburgh,"repliedthegirl.

"Didhesendtwowires,doyouremember?"saidTarling.

Shehesitated.

"Yes,hedid,"shesaid,"Idon'tknowwhotheotherwasto."

"Itwasthesamewritinganyway,"hesaid.

"But——"

"Dear,"hesaid,"youmustnotworryanymoreaboutit.Thereisatryingtimeahead of you, but youmust be brave, both for your own sake and for yourmother's,andformine,"headded.

Despiteherunhappinessshesmiledfaintly.

"Youtakesomethingforgranted,don'tyou?"sheasked.

"AmIdoingthat?"hesaidinsurprise.

"Youmean—"shewentredderthanever—"thatIcareenoughforyou—thatIwouldmakeaneffortforyoursake?"

"IsupposeIdo,"saidTarlingslowly,"it'svanity,Isuppose?"

"Perhapsitisinstinct,"shesaid,andsqueezedhisarm.

"Imusttakeyoubacktoyourmother'splace,"hesaid.

Thewalkfromthehousetothestationhadbeenalongandtediousone.Theway back was surprisingly short, even though they walked at snail's pace.ThereneverwasacourtingsuchasTarling's,anditseemedunrealasadream.Thegirlhadakeyoftheoutergateandtheypassedthroughtogether.

"DoesyourmotherknowthatyouareinHertford?"askedTarlingsuddenly.

"Yes,"repliedthegirl."IsawherbeforeIcameafteryou."

"Doessheknow——"

Hedidnotcaretofinishthesentence.

"No,"saidthegirl,"shedoesnotknow.Poorwoman,itwillbreakherheart.She is—very fond ofMilburgh. Sometimes he ismost kind tomother. Sheloveshimsomuchthatsheacceptedhismysteriouscomingsandgoingsandalltheexplanationswhichheoffered,withoutsuspicion."

Theyhadreachedtheplacewherehehadpickedupthewallet,andabovehimgloomedthedarkbulkoftheporticowithitsglass-houseatop.Thehousewasindarkness,nolightsshoneanywhere.

"I will take you in through the door under the portico. It is the way Mr.Milburghalwayscomes.Haveyoualight?"

Hehadhiselectriclampinhispocketandheputabeamuponthekey-hole.She inserted thekeyandutteredanoteof exclamation, for thedooryieldedunderherpressureandopened.

"Itisunlocked,"shesaid."IamsureIfastenedit."

Tarlingputhis lampuponthe lockandmadea littlegrimace.Thecatchhadbeenwedgedbackintothelocksothatitcouldnotspringoutagain.

"Howlongwereyouinthehouse?"heaskedquickly.

"Onlyafewminutes,"saidthegirl."Iwentinjusttotellmother,andIcameoutimmediately."

"Didyouclosethedoorbehindyouwhenyouwentin?"

Thegirlthoughtamoment.

"PerhapsIdidn't,"shesaid."No,ofcoursenot—Ididn'tcomebackthisway;motherletmeoutbythefrontdoor."

Tarlingputhislightintothehallandsawthecarpetedstairshalf-a-dozenfeetaway.Heguessedwhathadhappened.Somebodyhadseenthedoorajar,andguessing from the fact that she had left it open that she was returningimmediately,hadslippedapieceofwood,whichlookedtobeandwasinfactthestalkofamatch,betweenthecatchofthespringlockanditssheath.

"Whathashappened?"askedthegirlinatroubledvoice.

"Nothing," saidTarling airily. "Itwasprobablyyourdisreputable step-fatherdidthis.Hemayhavelosthiskey."

"Hecouldhavegoneinthefrontdoor,"saidthegirluneasily.

"Well, I'll go first," saidTarlingwith a cheerfulnesswhich hewas far fromfeeling.

Hewentupstairs,hislampinonehand,anautomaticpistolintheother.Thestairsendedinabalustradedlandingfromwhichtwodoorsopened.

"Thatismother'sroom,"saidthegirl,pointingtothenearest.

Asenseofimpendingtroublemadehershiver.Tarlingputhisarmsaboutherencouragingly. He walked to the door of the room, turned the handle andopened it. There was something behind the door which held it close, andexertingallhisstrengthhepushedthedooropensufficientlyfartoallowofhissqueezingthrough.

Onthedeskatable-lampwasburning,thelightofwhichwashiddenfromtheoutside by the heavily-curtainedwindows, but itwas neither at thewindownoratthedeskthathewaslooking.

Mrs.Riderlaybehindthedoor,alittlesmileonherface,thehaftofadaggerstandingoutwithhideousdistinctnessbeneathherheart.

CHAPTERXXVIITHELAUGHINTHENIGHT

Tarlinggaveoneglancebeforeheturnedtothegirl,whowasendeavouringtopush past him, and catching her by the arm gently thrust her back into thepassage.

"Whatiswrong?Whatiswrong?"sheaskedinaterrifiedwhisper."Oh,letmegotomother."

Shestruggledtoescapefromhisgrip,butheheldherfirmly.

"Youmustbebrave,foryourownsake—foreverybody'ssake,"heentreatedher.

Stillholdingherarm,heforcedhertothedoorofthesecondinnerroom.Hishandfeltfortheelectricswitchandfoundit.

Hewasinwhatappearedtobeasparebedroom,plainlyfurnished,andfromthisadoorled,apparentlyintothemainbuilding.

"Wheredoesthatdoorlead?"heasked,butshedidnotappeartohearhim.

"Mother,mother!"shewasmoaning,"whathashappenedtomymother?"

"Wheredoesthatdoorlead?"heaskedagain,andforanswersheslippedhertremblinghandintoherpocketandproducedakey.

Heopenedthedoorandfoundhimselfinarectangulargalleryoverlookingthehall.

Sheslippedpasthim,buthecaughtherandpushedherback.

"Itellyou,youmustbecalm,Odette,"hesaidfirmly,"youmustnotgiveway.Everythingdependsuponyourcourage.Wherearetheservants?"

Then, unexpectedly, she broke away from him and raced back through thedoorintothewingtheyhadleft.Hefollowedinswiftpursuit.

"ForGod'ssake,Odette,don't,don't,"hecried,assheflungherselfagainstthedoorandburstintohermother'sroom.

Oneglanceshegave,thenshefellonthefloorbythesideofherdeadmother,andflingingherarmsabouttheformkissedthecoldlips.

Tarlingpulledhergentlyaway,andhalf-carried,half-supportedherbacktothegallery.AdishevelledmaninshirtandtrouserswhomTarlingthoughtmightbethebutlerwashurryingalongthecorridor.

"Arouseanywomenwhoareinthehouse,"saidTarlinginalowvoice."Mrs.Riderhasbeenmurdered."

"Murdered,sir!"saidthestartledman."Youdon'tmeanthat?"

"Quick,"saidTarlingsharply,"MissRiderhasfaintedagain."

Theycarriedherintothedrawing-roomandlaidheronthecouch,andTarlingdidnotleaveheruntilhehadseenherinthehandsoftwowomenservants.

Hewentbackwiththebutlertotheroomwherethebodylay.Heturnedonallthelightsandmadeacarefulscrutinyoftheroom.Thewindowleadingontotheglass-coveredbalconywherehehadbeenconcealeda fewhoursbefore,waslatched,lockedandbolted.

Thecurtains,whichhadbeendrawn,presumablybyMilburghwhenhecameforthewallet,wereundisturbed.Fromthepositioninwhichthedeadwomanlayandthecalmonherfacehethoughtdeathmusthavecomeinstantlyandunexpectedly.Probablythemurdererstolebehindherwhilstshewasstandingat the footof the sofawhichhehadpartly seen through thewindow. Itwaslikely that, to beguile the time ofwaiting for her daughter's return, she hadtakenabookfromalittlecabinetimmediatelybehindthedoor,andsupportforthistheorycameintheshapeofabookwhichhadevidentlyfallenoutofherhandbetweenthepositioninwhichshewasfoundandthebook-case.

Togetherthetwomenliftedthebodyontothesofa.

"Youhadbettergodownintothetownandinformthepolice,"saidTarling."Isthereatelephonehere?"

"Yes,sir,"repliedthebutler.

"Good,thatwillsaveyouajourney,"saidthedetective.

HenotifiedthelocalpoliceofficialsandthengotontoScotlandYardandsenta messenger to arouseWhiteside. The faint pallor of dawn was in the skywhen he looked out of the window, but the pale light merely served toemphasisethepitchdarknessoftheworld.

He examined the knife,which had the appearance of being a very ordinarybutcher's knife.Therewere some faint initials burnt upon the hilt, but thesehadbeensowornbyconstanthandlingthattherewasonlythefaintesttraceofwhattheyhadoriginallybeen.Hecouldseean"M"andtwootherlettersthatlookedlike"C"and"A."

"M.C.A.?"

Hepuzzledhisbraintointerprettheinitials.Presentlythebutlercameback.

"Theyoungladyisinaterriblestate,sir,andIhavesentforDr.Thomas."

Tarlingnodded.

"Youhavedoneverywisely,"hesaid."Poorgirl,shehashadaterribleshock."

Againhewent to the telephone,and this timehegot intoconnectionwithanursing home inLondon and arranged for an ambulance to pick up the girlwithoutfurtherdelay.WhenhehadtelephonedtoScotlandYardhehadaskedasanafter-thought that amessenger shouldbe sent toLingChu, instructing

him to come without delay. He had the greatest faith in the Chinaman,particularly in a case like this where the trail was fresh, for Ling Chuwaspossessedofsuper-humangiftswhichonlytheblood-houndcouldrival.

"Nobodymustgoupstairs,"heinstructedthebutler."Whenthedoctorandthecoroner'sofficercome,theymustbeadmittedbytheprincipalentrance,andifI am not here, you must understand that under no circumstances are thosestairsleadingtotheporticotobeused."

Hehimselfwentoutofthemainentrancetomakeatourofthegrounds.Hehadlittlehopethatthatsearchwouldleadtoanything.Cluestheremightbeinplentywhen the daylight revealed them, but the likelihood of themurdererremaininginthevicinityofthesceneofhiscrimewasaremoteone.

Thegroundswereextensiveandwell-wooded.Numerouswindingpathsmet,and forked aimlessly, radiating out from the broad gravel paths about thehousetothehighwallswhichencircledthelittleestate.

In one corner of the groundswas a fairly large patch, innocent of bush andofferingnocoveratall.Hemadeacasualsurveyof this, sweepinghis lightacrosstheorderedrowsofgrowingvegetables,andwasgoingawaywhenhesaw a black bulk which had the appearance, even in the darkness, of agardener'shouse.Hesweptthispossiblecoverwithhislamp.

Washisimaginationplayinghimatrick,orhadhecaughtthebriefestglimpseofawhitefacepeeringroundthecorner?Heputonhislightagain.Therewasnothingvisible.Hewalkedtothebuildingandroundit.Therewasnobodyinsight.Hethoughthesawadarkformundertheshadowofthebuildingmovingtowards thebeltofpineswhichsurrounded thehouseon the threesides.Heput on his lamp again, but the light was not powerful enough to carry thedistance required, and hewent forward at a jog trot in the direction he hadseen the figure disappear.He reached the pines andwent softly.Every nowandagainhestopped,andoncehecouldhaveswornheheardthecrackingofatwigaheadofhim.

Hestartedoffataruninpursuit,andnowtherewasnomistakingthefactthatsomebodywas still in thewood.Heheard thequickstepsofhisquarryandthen there was silence. He ran on, but must have overshot the mark, forpresentlyheheardastealthynoisebehindhim.Inaflashheturnedback.

"Whoareyou?"hesaid."StandoutorI'llfire!"

Therewasnoanswerandhewaited.Heheardthescrapingofabootagainstthebrick-workandheknewthattheintruderwasclimbingthewall.Heturnedinthedirectionofthesound,butagainfoundnothing.

Thenfromsomewhereabovehimcamesuchatrillofdemoniacallaughteras

chilled his blood. The top of the wall was concealed by the overhangingbranchofatreeandhislightwasvalueless.

"Comedown,"heshouted,"I'vegotyoucovered!"

Againcamethatterriblelaugh,half-fear,half-derision,andavoiceshrillandharshcamedowntohim.

"Murderer!Murderer!YoukilledThorntonLyne,damnyou!I'vekeptthisforyou—takeit!"

Something came crashing through the trees, something small and round, asplashingdrop,asofwater,fellonthebackofTarling'shandandheshookitoffwithacry,foritburntlikefire.Heheardthemysteriousstrangerdropfromthecopingofthewallandthesoundofhisswiftfeet.Hestoopedandpickedup thearticlewhichhadbeen thrownathim. Itwasasmallbottlebearingastainedchemist'slabelandtheword"Vitriol."

CHAPTERXXVIIITHETHUMB-PRINT

Itwasteno'clockinthemorning,andWhitesideandTarlingweresittingonasofaintheirshirt-sleeves,sippingtheircoffee.Tarlingwashaggardandweary,in contrast to the dapper inspector of police. Though the latter had beenarousedfromhisbedintheearlyhoursofthemorning,heatleasthadenjoyedagoodnight'ssleep.

Theysat in the roominwhichMrs.Riderhadbeenmurdered,and the rustybrown stainson the floorwhereTarlinghad foundherwere eloquentof thetragedy.

They sat sipping their coffee, neitherman talking, and theymaintained thissilence for several minutes, each man following his own train of thought.Tarlingforreasonsofhisownhadnotrevealedhisownadventureandhehadtoldtheothernothingofthemysteriousindividual(whohewas,heprettywellguessed)whomhehadchasedthroughthegrounds.

Presently Whiteside lit a cigarette and threw the match in the grate, andTarlingrousedhimselffromhisreveriewithajerk.

"Whatdoyoumakeofit?"heasked.

Whitesideshookhishead.

"Iftherehadbeenpropertytaken,itwouldhavehadasimpleexplanation.But

nothinghasgone.Poorgirl!"

Tarlingnodded.

"Terrible!"hesaid."Thedoctorhadtodrugherbeforehecouldgethertogo."

"Whereisshe?"askedWhiteside

"I sent her on an ambulance to a nursing-home in London," said Tarlingshortly."Thisisawful,Whiteside."

"It'sprettybad,"saidthedetective-inspector,scratchinghischin."Theyoungladycouldsupplynoinformation?"

"Nothing,absolutelynothing.Shehadgoneuptoseehermotherandhadleftthedoorajar, intending to returnby thesamewayafter shehad interviewedMrs.Rider.Asamatteroffact,shewasletoutbythefrontdoor.Somebodywaswatchingandapparentlythoughtthatshewascomingoutbythewayshewentin,waitedforatime,andthenasshedidnotreappear,followedherintothebuilding."

"AndthatsomebodywasMilburgh?"saidWhiteside.

Tarlingmade no reply.He had his own views and for themomentwas notpreparedtoargue.

"ItwasobviouslyMilburgh,"saidWhiteside."Hecomestoyouinthenight—weknowthatheisinHertford.Weknow,too,thathetriedtoassassinateyoubecausehethoughtthegirlhadbetrayedhimandyouhadunearthedhissecret.He must have killed his wife, who probably knows much more about themurderthanthedaughter."

Tarlinglookedathiswatch.

"LingChushouldbeherebynow,"hesaid.

"Oh,yousentforLingChu,didyou?"saidWhitesideinsurprise."Ithoughtthatyou'dgivenupthatidea."

"I'phonedagainacoupleofhoursago,"saidTarling.

"H'm!"saidWhiteside."Doyouthinkthatheknowsanythingaboutthis?"

Tarlingshookhishead.

"Ibelievethestoryhetoldme.Ofcourse,whenImadethereporttoScotlandYard I did not expect that you peoplewould be as credulous as I am, but Iknowtheman.Hehasneverliedtome."

"Murder is apretty seriousbusiness," saidWhiteside. "If amandidn't lie tosavehisneck,hewouldn'tlieatall."

Therewasthesoundofamotorbelow,andTarlingwalkedtothewindow.

"Here is Ling Chu," he said, and a few minutes later the Chinaman camenoiselesslyintotheroom.

Tarlinggreetedhimwithacurtnod,andwithoutanypreliminarytoldthestoryof the crime.He spoke in English—he had not employedChinese since hediscovered thatLingChuunderstoodEnglishquiteaswellasheunderstoodCantonese,andWhitesidewasable fromtime to time to interjectaword,orcorrect some little slip on Tarling's part. The Chinaman listened withoutcommentandwhenTarlinghadfinishedhemadeoneofhisqueerjerkybowsandwentoutoftheroom.

"Herearetheletters,"saidWhiteside,afterthemanhadgone.

TwoneatpilesofletterswerearrangedonMrs.Rider'sdesk,andTarlingdrewupachair.

"Thisisthelot?"hesaid.

"Yes,"saidWhiteside."I'vebeensearchingthehousesinceeighto'clockandIcanfindnoothers.ThoseontherightareallfromMilburgh.You'llfindthey'resimplysignedwithaninitial—acharacteristicofhis—buttheybearhistownaddress."

"You'velookedthroughthem?"askedTarling

"Read'emall,"repliedtheother."There'snothingatallincriminatinginanyofthem. They'rewhat I would call bread and butter letters, dealingwith littleinvestmentswhichMilburgh hasmade in hiswife's name—or rather, in thenameofMrs.Rider. It'seasy toseefromthesehowdeeply thepoorwomanwas involvedwithoutherknowing thatshewasmixingherselfup inagreatconspiracy."

Tarling assented. One by one he took the letters from their envelopes, readthemandreplaced them.Hewashalf-way through thepilewhenhestoppedandcarriedalettertothewindow.

"Listentothis,"hesaid:

"Forgive thesmudge,but Iaminanawfulhurry,andIhavegotmyfingersinkythroughtheoverturningofaninkbottle."

"Nothingstartlinginthat,"saidWhitesidewithasmile.

"Nothing at all," admittedTarling. "But it happens that our friendhas left averygoodandusefulthumb-print.Atleast,itlookstoobigforafinger-print."

"Letmeseeit,"saidWhiteside,springingup.

Hewent to the other's side and looked over his shoulder at the letter in hishand, andwhistled.He turned a glowing face uponTarling and gripped hischiefbytheshoulder.

"We'vegothim!"hesaidexultantly."We'vegothimassurelyasifwehadhiminthepen!"

"Whatdoyoumean?"askedTarling.

"I'll swear to that thumb-print," replied Whiteside. "It's identical with thebloodmarkwhichwasleftonMissRider'sbureauonthenightofthemurder!"

"Areyousure?"

"Absolutely,"saidWhiteside,speakingquickly."Doyouseethatwhorl?Lookat those lineations! They're the same. I have the original photograph inmypocket somewhere." He searched his pocket-book and brought out aphotographofathumb-printconsiderablyenlarged.

"Compare them!"criedWhiteside in triumph."Linefor line, ridgefor ridge,andfurrowforfurrow,itisMilburgh'sthumb-printandMilburghismyman!"

Hetookuphiscoatandslippediton.

"Whereareyougoing?"

"BacktoLondon,"saidWhitesidegrimly,"tosecureawarrantforthearrestofGeorgeMilburgh,themanwhokilledThorntonLyne,themanwhomurderedhiswife—theblackestvillainatlargeintheworldto-day!"

CHAPTERXXIXTHETHEORYOFLINGCHU

UponthisscenecameLingChu,imperturbable,expressionless,bringingwithhimhisownatmosphereofmystery.

"Well," said Tarling, "what have you discovered?" and even Whitesidecheckedhisenthusiasmtolisten.

"Twopeoplecameupthestairslastnight,"saidLingChu,"alsothemaster."He looked at Tarling, and the latter nodded. "Your feet are clear," he said;"alsothefeetofthesmall-piecewoman;alsothenakedfeet."

"Thenakedfeet?"saidTarling,andLingChuassented.

"Whatwasthenakedfoot—manorwoman?"askedWhiteside.

"Itmayhavebeenmanorwoman,"repliedtheChinaman,"butthefeetwerecutandwerebleeding.Thereismarkofbloodonthegraveloutside."

"Nonsense!"saidWhitesidesharply.

"Lethimgoon,"warnedTarling.

"Awomancameinandwentout——"continuedLingChu.

"ThatwasMissRider,"saidTarling.

"Thenawomanandamancame;thenthebare-footedonecame,becausethebloodisoverthefirstwomen'sfootmarks."

"Howdoyouknowwhichwasthefirstwomanandwhichwasthesecond?"askedWhiteside,interestedinspiteofhimself.

"Thefirstwoman'sfootwaswet,"saidLingChu.

"Buttherehadbeennorain,"saidthedetectiveintriumph.

"Shewasstandingonthegrass,"saidLingChu,andTarlingnoddedhishead,rememberingthatthegirlhadstoodonthegrassintheshadowofthebushes,watchinghisadventurewithMilburgh.

"ButthereisonethingIdonotunderstandmaster,"saidLingChu."Thereisthemarkofanotherwoman'sfootwhichIcannotfindonthestairinthehall.Thiswomanwalkedallroundthehouse;Ithinkshewalkedroundtwice;andthenshewalkedintothegardenandthroughthetrees."

Tarlingstaredathim.

"MissRidercamestraightfromthehouseontotheroad,"hesaid,"andintoHertfordafterme."

"There is themark of awomanwho haswalked round the house," insistedLingChu,"and,therefore,Ithinkitwasawomanwhosefeetwerebare."

"Arethereanymarksofamanbesideusthree?"

"Iwascoming to that,"saidLingChu."There isaveryfaint traceofamanwhocameearly,becausethewetfootstepsareoverhis;alsoheleft,butthereisnosignofhimonthegravel,onlythemarkofawheel-track."

"ThatwasMilburgh,"saidTarling.

"Ifa foothasnot touched theground,"explainedLingChu, "itwould leavelittletrace.Thatiswhythewoman'sfootaboutthehouseissohardforme,forIcannotfinditonthestair.YetIknowitcamefromthehousebecauseIcanseeitleadingfromthedoor.Come,master,Iwillshowyou."

He led theway down the stairs into the garden, and then for the first timeWhitesidenoticedthattheChinamanwasbare-footed.

"Youhaven'tmixedyourownfootmarksupwithsomebodyelse's?"heaskedjocularly.

LingChushookhishead.

"I leftmyshoesoutside thedoorbecause it iseasier forme toworkso,"hesaidcalmly,slippinghisfeetintohissmallshoes.

Heledthewaytothesideofthehouse,andtherepointedoutthefootprints.Theywereunmistakablyfeminine.Wheretheheelwas,wasadeepcrescent-shaped hole, which recurred at intervals all round the house. Curiouslyenough,theyweretobefoundinfrontofalmosteverywindow,asthoughthemysteriousvisitorhadwalkedoverthegardenborderasifseekingtofindanentrance.

"They look more like slippers than shoes to me. They're undoubtedly awoman's," saidWhiteside, examiningoneof the impressions. "Whatdoyouthink,Tarling?"

Tarlingnoddedandledthewaybacktotheroom.

"Whatisyourtheory,LingChu?"heasked.

"Somebodycameintothehouse,"saidtheChinaman,"squeezedthroughthedoor below and up the stairs. First that somebody killed and then went tosearchthehouse,butcouldnotgetthroughthedoor."

"That's right," saidWhiteside. "You mean the door that shuts off this littlewing from the restof thehouse.Thatwas locked,was itnot,Tarling,whenyoumadethediscovery?"

"Yes,"saidTarling,"itwaslocked."

"Whentheyfoundtheycouldnotgetintothehouse,"LingChuwenton,"theytriedtogetthroughoneofthewindows."

"They, they?" said Tarling impatiently. "Who are they? Do you mean thewoman?"

Thenewtheorywasdisturbing.Hehadpiercedthesecondactorinthetragedy—abrownvitriolburnonthebackofhishandremindedhimofhisexistence—butwhowasthethird?

"Imeanthewoman,"repliedLingChuquietly.

"Butwho inGod's namewanted to get into the house aftermurderingMrs.Rider?" asked Whiteside irritably. "Your theory is against all reason, Ling

Chu. When a person has committed a murder they want to put as muchdistance between themselves and the scene of the crime as they can in theshortestpossiblespaceoftime."

LingChudidnotreply.

"How many people are concerned in this murder?" said Tarling. "A bare-footedmanorwomancameinandkilledMrs.Rider;asecondpersonmadetheroundofthehouse,tryingtogetinthroughoneofthewindows——"

"WhetheritwasonepersonortwoIcannottell,"repliedLingChu.

Tarlingmadea further inspectionof the littlewing. Itwas,asLingChuhadsaid and as he had explained to the Chinaman, cut off from the rest of thehouse, and had evidently been arranged to giveMr.Milburgh the necessaryprivacy upon his visits to Hertford. The wing consisted of three rooms; abedroom,leadingfromthesitting-room,evidentlyusedbyMrs.Rider,forherclotheswerehanging in thewardrobe; the sitting-room inwhich themurderwascommitted,andthespareroomthroughwhichhehadpassedwithOdettetothegalleryoverthehall.

Itwasthroughthedoorinthisroomthatadmissionwassecuredtothehouse.

"There'snothingtobedonebuttoleavethelocalpoliceinchargeandgetbacktoLondon,"saidTarlingwhentheinspectionwasconcluded.

"And arrest Milburgh," suggested Whiteside. "Do you accept Ling Chu'stheory?"

Tarlingshookhishead.

"I am loath to reject it," he said, "because he is themost amazingly clevertracker.Hecantracefootmarkswhichareabsolutelyinvisibletotheeye,andhe has a bushman's instinct which in the old days in China led to someextraordinaryresults."

Theyreturnedtotownbycar,LingChuridingbesidethechauffeur,smokingan interminable chain of cigarettes. Tarling spoke very little during thejourney, his mind being fully occupied with the latest development of amystery,thesolutionofwhichstillevadedhim.

The route throughLondon to ScotlandYard carried him throughCavendishPlace, where the nursing homewas situated in which Odette Rider lay. Hestoppedthecartomakeinquiries,andfoundthatthegirlhadrecoveredfromthefrenzyofgriefintowhichtheterriblediscoveryofthemorninghadthrownher,andhadfallenintoaquietsleep.

"That's good news, anyway," he said, rejoining his companion. "I was half

besidemyselfwithanxiety."

"You takea tremendous interest inMissRider, don't you?" askedWhitesidedryly.

Tarlingbrindled,thenlaughed.

"Oh,yes,Itakeaninterest,"headmitted,"butitisverynatural."

"Whynatural?"askedWhiteside.

"Because,"repliedTarlingdeliberately,"MissRiderisgoingtobemywife."

"Oh!"saidWhitesideinblankamazement,andhadnothingmoretosay.

The warrant for Milburgh's arrest was waiting for them, and placed in thehandsofWhitesideforexecution.

"We'llgivehimnotime,"saidtheofficer."I'mafraidhe'shadalittletoomuchgrace,andweshallbeveryluckyifwefindhimathome."

Ashehadsuspected,thehouseinCamdenTownwasempty,andthewomanwhocamedailytodothecleaningofthehousewaswaitingpatientlybytheirongate.Mr.Milburgh,shetoldthem,usuallyadmittedherathalf-pasteight.Evenifhewas"inthecountry"hewasbackatthehousebeforeherarrival.

Whiteside fitted a skeleton key into the lock of the gate, opened it (thecharwoman protesting in the interests of her employer) and went up theflaggedpath.Thedoorofthecottagewasamoredifficultproposition,beingfittedwithapatentlock.Tarlingdidnotstandonceremony,butsmashedoneofthewindows,andgrinnedashedidso.

"Listentothat?"

Theshrilltinkleofabellcametotheirears.

"Burglaralarm,"saidTarlinglaconically,andpushedbackthecatch,threwupthewindow, and stepped into the little roomwhere he had interviewedMr.Milburgh.

Thehousewasempty.Theywentfromroomtoroom,searchingthebureauxandcupboards.InoneoftheseTarlingmadeadiscovery.Itwasnomorethanafewglitteringspeckswhichhesweptfromashelfintothepalmofhishand.

"Ifthatisn'tthermite,I'maDutchman,"hesaid."Atanyrate,we'llbeabletoconvictMr.Milburghofarsonifwecan'tgethimformurder.We'llsendthisto the Government analyst right away, Whiteside. If Milburgh did not killThornton Lyne, he certainly burnt down the premises of Dashwood andSolomontodestroytheevidenceofhistheft."

It wasWhitesidewhomade the second discovery.Mr.Milburgh slept on alargewoodenfour-poster.

"He'saluxuriousdevil,"saidWhiteside."Lookatthethicknessofthoseboxsprings."Hetappedthesideofthatpieceoffurnitureandlookedroundwithastartledexpression.

"A bit solid for a box spring, isn't it?" he asked, and continued hisinvestigation,tearingdownthebedvalance.

Presently hewas rewarded by finding a small eyelet hole in the side of themattress. He took out his knife, opened the pipe cleaner, and pressed thenarrowbladeinto theaperture.Therewasaclickandtwodoors, ludicrouslylikethedoorswhichdeadenthevolumeofgramophonemusic,flewopen.

Whitesideputinhishandandpulledsomethingout.

"Books," he said disappointedly. Then, brightening up. "They are diaries; Iwonderifthebeggarkeptadiary?"

He piled the little volumes on the bed and Tarling took one and turned theleaves.

"ThorntonLyne'sdiary,"hesaid."Thismaybeuseful."

Oneofthevolumeswaslocked.Itwasthenewestofthebooks,andevidentlyanattempthadbeenmadetoforcethelock,forthehaspwasbadlywrenched.Mr.Milburghhad,infact,madesuchanattempt,butashewasengagedinasystematicstudyofthediariesfromthebeginninghehadeventuallyputasidethelastvolumeafteranunsuccessfulefforttobreakthefastening.

"Istherenothingelse?"askedTarling.

"Nothing," said the disappointed inspector, looking into the interior. "Theremay be other little cupboards of this kind," he added. But a long searchrevealednofurtherhiding-place.

"Nothingmoreistobedonehere,"saidTarling."Keeponeofyourmeninthehouse in caseMilburgh turns up. Personally I doubt verymuchwhether hewillputinanappearance."

"Doyouthinkthegirlhasfrightenedhim?"

"I think it is extremely likely," said Tarling. "I will make an inquiry at theStores,butIdon'tsupposehewillbethereeither."

This surmise proved to be correct. Nobody at Lyne's Store had seen themanagerorreceivedwordastohiswhereabouts.Milburghhaddisappearedasthoughthegroundhadopenedandswallowedhim.

NotimewaslostbyScotlandYardincommunicatingparticularsofthewantedman to every police station in England. Within twenty-four hours hisdescriptionandphotographwereinthehandsofeverychiefconstable;andifhehadnotsucceededinleavingthecountry—whichwasunlikely—duringthetime between the issue of the warrant and his leaving Tarling's room inHertford,hisarrestwasinevitable.

Atfiveo'clockthatafternooncameanewclue.Apairofladies'shoes,mud-stainedandworn,hadbeendiscovered inaditchon theHertford road, fourmilesfromthehousewherethelatestmurderhadbeencommitted.Thisnewscame by telephone from the Chief of the Hertford Constabulary, with thefurther information that the shoes had been despatched to ScotlandYard byspecialmessenger.

Itwashalf-pastsevenwhenthelittleparcelwasdepositedonTarling'stable.Hestrippedthepackageofitspaper,openedthelidofthecardboardbox,andtookoutadistorted-lookingslipperwhichhadseenbetterdays.

"Awoman's,undoubtedly,"hesaid."Doyounotethecrescent-shapedheel."

"Look!" saidWhiteside, pointing to some stains on thewhitey-brown innersock."ThatsupportsLingChu'stheory.Thefeetofthepersonwhoworethesewerebleeding."

Tailingexaminedtheslippersandnodded.Heturnedupthetongueinsearchofthemaker'sname,andtheshoedroppedfromhishand.

"What'sonearththematter?"askedWhiteside,andpickeditup.

Helookedandlaughedhelplessly;forontheinsideofthetonguewasatinylabelbearing thenameof aLondon shoemaker, andbeneath,written in ink,"MissO.Rider."

CHAPTERXXXWHOKILLEDMRS.RIDER?

The matron of the nursing home received Tarling. Odette, she said, hadregainedhernormalcalm,butwouldrequireafewdays' rest.Shesuggestedsheshouldbesenttothecountry.

"Ihopeyou'renotgoing toaskhera lotofquestions,Mr.Tarling," said thematron,"becauseshereallyisn'tfittostandanyfurtherstrain."

"There'sonlyonequestionI'mgoingtoask,"saidTarlinggrimly.

He found thegirl inaprettily-furnished room,and sheheldoutherhand tohimingreeting.Hestoopedandkissedher,andwithoutfurtheradoproducedtheshoefromhispocket.

"Odettedear,"hesaidgently,"isthisyours?"

Shelookedatitandnodded.

"Whyyes,wheredidyoufindit?"

"Areyousureitisyours?"

"I'mperfectlycertainit'smine,"shesmiled."It'sanoldslipperIusedtowear.Whydoyouask?"

"Wheredidyouseeitlast?"

Thegirlclosedhereyesandshivered.

"Inmother'sroom,"shesaid."Oh,mother,mother!"

Sheturnedherheadtothecushionofthechairandwept,andTarlingsoothedher.

It was some time before she was calm, but then she could give no furtherinformation.

"Itwasashoethatmotherlikedbecauseitfittedher.Webothtookthesamesize...."

HervoicebrokeagainandTarlinghastenedtochangetheconversation.

MoreandmorehewasbecomingconvertedtoLingChu'stheory.Hecouldnotapplytothattheorythefactswhichhadcomeintohispossession.Onhiswaybackfromthenursinghometopoliceheadquarters,hereviewedtheHertfordcrime.

Somebody had come into the house bare-footed, with bleeding feet, and,having committed themurder, had looked about for shoes. The old slippershadbeentheonlykindwhichthemurderercouldwear,andheorshehadputthemonandhadgoneoutagain,aftermaking thecircuitof thehouse.Whyhadthismysteriouspersontriedtogetintothehouseagain,andforwhomorwhatweretheysearching?

IfLingChuwascorrect,obviouslythemurderercouldnotbeMilburgh.Ifhecouldbelievetheevidenceofhissenses,themanwiththesmallfeethadbeenhewhohadshriekeddefianceinthedarknessandhadhurledthevitriolathisfeet.HeputhisviewsbeforehissubordinateandfoundWhitesidewillingtoagreewithhim.

"Butitdoesnotfollow,"saidWhiteside,"thatthebare-footedpersonwhowasapparently in Mrs. Rider's house committed the murder. Milburgh did thatrightenough,don'tworry!ThereislessdoubtthathecommittedtheDaffodilMurder."

Tarlingswungroundinhischair;hewassittingontheoppositesideofthebigtablethatthetwomenusedincommon.

"IthinkIknowwhocommittedtheDaffodilMurder,"hesaidsteadily."Ihavebeen working things out, and I have a theory which you would probablydescribeasfantastic."

"Whatisit?"askedWhiteside,buttheothershookhishead.

Hewasnotforthemomentpreparedtorevealhistheory.

Whitesideleanedbackinhischairandforamomentcogitated.

"The case from the very beginning is full of contradictions," he said."ThorntonLynewasarichman—by-the-way,you'rearichman,now,Tarling,andImusttreatyouwithrespect."

Tarlingsmiled.

"Goon,"hesaid.

"Hehadqueertastes—abadpoet,asisevidencedbyhisoneslimvolumeofverse.Hewasaposeur,proofofwhichistobefoundinhispatronageofSamStay—who,by theway,hasescapedfromthe lunaticasylum;Isupposeyouknowthat?"

"Iknowthat,"saidTarling."Goon."

"Lyne falls in love with a pretty girl in his employ," continuedWhiteside."Usedtohavinghiswaywhenheliftedhisfinger,allwomenthatinearthdodwellmustbowtheirneckstotheyoke.Heisrepulsedbythegirlandinhishumiliationimmediatelyconceivesforherahatredbeyondtheunderstandingofanysanemortal."

"Sofaryouraccountdoesn'tchallengecontradiction,"saidTarlingwithalittletwinkleinhiseye.

"That is itemnumberone," continuedWhiteside, ticking the itemoffonhisfingers."ItemnumbertwoisMr.Milburgh,anoleaginousgentlemanwhohasbeenrobbingthefirmforyearsandhasbeenlivinginstyleinthecountryonhisill-earnedgains.Fromwhathehears,orknows,hegathers,thatthejigisup.HeisindespairwhenherealisesthatThorntonLyneisdesperatelyinlovewithhisstep-daughter.What ismore likely than thatheshouldusehisstep-daughter inorder to influenceThorntonLyne to take the favourableviewof

hisdelinquencies?"

"Or what is more likely," interrupted Tarling, "than that he would put theblame for the robberies upon the girl and trust to her paying a price toThorntonLynetoescapepunishment?"

"Rightagain.I'llacceptthatpossibility,"saidWhiteside."Milburgh'splanistoget a private interview, under exceptionally favourable circumstances, withThorntonLyne.Hewires to thatgentleman tomeethimatMissRider's flat,relyinguponthemagicofthename."

"AndThorntonLynecomes in list slippers," saidTarlingsarcastically. "Thatdoesn'twash,Whiteside."

"No,itdoesn't,"admittedtheother."ButI'mgettingatthebroadaspectsofthecase. Lyne comes. He is met by Milburgh, who plays his trump card ofconfessionandendeavourstoswitchtheyoungmanontothesolutionwhichMilburgh had prepared. Lyne refuses, there is a row, and is desperationMilburghshootsThorntonLyne."

Tarlingshookhishead.Hemusedawhile,then:

"It'squeer,"hesaid.

Thedooropenedandapoliceofficercamein.

"Here are the particulars you want," he said and handed Whiteside atypewrittensheetofpaper.

"Whatis this?"saidWhitesidewhenthemanhadgone."Oh,hereisouroldfriend, SamStay.A police description."He read on: "Height five foot four,sallow complexion ... wearing a grey suit and underclothing bearing themarkingsoftheCountyAsylum....Hullo!"

"Whatisit?"saidTarling.

"Thisisremarkable,"saidWhiteside,andread

"When the patient escaped, he had bare feet. He takes a very small size inshoes,probablyfourorfive.Akitchenknifeismissingandthepatientmaybearmed.Boot-makersshouldbewarned...."

"Barefeet!"Tarlingrosefromthetablewithafrownonhisface."SamStayhatedOdetteRider."

Thetwomenexchangedglances.

"Now,doyouseewhokilledMrs.Rider?"askedTarling."ShewaskilledbyonewhosawOdetteRidergo into thehouse,anddidnot seehercomeout;whowentinafterhertoavenge,ashethought,hisdeadpatron.Hekilledthis

unhappy woman—the initials on the knife, M.C.A., stand for MiddlesexCounty Asylum, and he brought the knife with him—and discovered hismistake; then,havingsearchedforapairofshoes tocoverhisbleedingfeet,andhavingfailedtogetintothehousebyanyotherway,madeacircuitofthebuilding,lookingforOdetteRiderandseekinganentranceateverywindow."

Whitesidelookedathiminastonishment.

"It'sapityyou'vegotmoney,"hesaidadmiringly."Whenyouretirefromthisbusinessthere'llbeagreatdetectivelost."

CHAPTERXXXISAMSTAYTURNSUP

"Ihaveseenyousomewherebefore,ain'tI?"

The stout clergyman in the immaculatewhite collar beamedbenevolently atthequestionerandshookhisheadwithagentlesmile.

"No,mydearfriend,IdonotthinkIhaveeverseenyoubefore."

Itwasalittleman,shabbilydressed,andlookingill.Hisfacewasdrawnandlined;hehadnotshavedfordays,andthethin,blackstubbleofhairgavehimasinisterlook.TheclergymanhadjustwalkedoutofTempleGardensandwasattheendofVilliersStreetleadinguptotheStrand,whenhewasaccosted.Hewasahappy-lookingclergyman,andsomethingofastudent,too,ifthestoutandseriousvolumeunderhisarmhadanysignificance.

"I'veseenyoubefore,"saidthelittleman,"I'vedreamtaboutyou."

"Ifyou'llexcuseme,"saidtheclergyman,"IamafraidIcannotstay.Ihaveanimportantengagement."

"Holdhard,"saidthelittleman, insofiercea tonethat theotherstopped."Itellyou I'vedreamtaboutyou. I've seenyoudancingwith fourblackdevilswithnoclotheson,andyouwereallfatandugly."

He lowered his voice and was speaking in a fierce earnest monotone, asthoughhewasrecitingsomelessonhehadbeentaught.

Theclergymantookapacebackinalarm.

"Now,mygoodman,"hesaidseverely,"yououghtnot tostopgentlemeninthestreetand talk thatkindofnonsense. Ihavenevermetyoubefore inmylife.MynameistheReverendJosiahJennings."

"YournameisMilburgh,"saidtheother."Yes,that'sit,Milburgh.Heusedtotalkaboutyou!That lovelyman—here!"Heclutchedtheclergyman'ssleeveandMilburgh'sfacewentashadepaler.Therewasaconcentratedfuryinthegrip on his arm and a strangewildness in theman's speech. "Doyou knowwhereheis?Inabeautivaultbuiltlikean'ouseinHighgateCemetery.There'stwo littledoors thatopen like thedoorof a church, andyougodownsomestepstoit."

"Whoareyou?"askedMilburgh,histeethchattering.

"Don'tyouknowme?"Thelittlemanpeeredathim."You'veheardhimtalkaboutme.SamStay—why,IworkedfortwodaysinyourStores,Idid.Andyou—you'veonlygotwhathe'sgivenyou.Everypennyyouearnedhegaveyou,didMr.Lyne.Hewasafriendtoeverybody—tothepoor,eventoahooklikeme."

His eyes filled with tears andMr.Milburgh looked round to see if he wasbeingobserved.

"Now,don'ttalknonsense!"hesaidunderhisbreath,"andlisten,myman;ifanybody asks you whether you have seen Mr. Milburgh, you haven't, youunderstand?"

"Oh,Iunderstand,"saidtheman."ButIknewyou!There'snobodyconnectedwithhimthatIdon'tremember.Heliftedmeupoutofthegutter,hedid.He'smyideaofGod!"

Theyhad reachedaquiet cornerof theGardensandMilburghmotioned themantositbesidehimonagardenseat.

Forthefirsttimethatdayheexperiencedasenseofconfidenceinthewisdomof his choice of disguise. The sight of a clergyman speakingwith a seedy-lookingmanmight excite comment, but not suspicion. After all, it was thebusinessofclergymen to talk toseedy-lookingmen,and theymightbeseenengagedinthemostearnestandconfidentialconversationandhewouldsuffernolossofcaste.

SamStaylookedattheblackcoatandthewhitecollarindoubt.

"Howlonghaveyoubeenaclergyman,Mr.Milburgh?"heasked.

"Oh—er—for a little while," said Mr. Milburgh glibly, trying to rememberwhathehadheardaboutSamStay.Butthelittlemansavedhimthelabourofremembering.

"Theytookmeawaytoaplaceinthecountry,"hesaid,"butyouknowIwasn'tmad,Mr.Milburgh.Hewouldn'thavehada fellowhanging roundhimwhowasmad, would he? You're a clergyman, eh?" He nodded his head wisely,

then asked, with a sudden eagerness: "Did he make you a clergyman? Hecoulddowonderfulthings,couldMr.Lyne,couldn'the?Didyoupreachoverhimwhen they buried him in that little vault in 'Ighgate? I've seen it—I gothereeveryday,Mr.Milburgh,"saidSam."Ionlyfounditbyaccident. 'AlsoThorntonLyne,hisson.'There'stwolittledoorsthatopenlikechurchdoors."

Mr.Milburghdrewalongsigh.Ofcourse,herememberednow.SamStayhadbeenremovedtoalunaticasylum,andhewasdimlyconsciousofthefactthatthemanhadescaped.Itwasnotapleasantexperience,talkingwithanescapedlunatic.Itmight,however,beaprofitableone.Mr.Milburghwasamanwholetveryfewopportunitiesslip.Whatcouldhemakeoutofthis,hewondered?AgainSamStaysuppliedtheclue.

"I'mgoingtosettlewiththatgirl——"Hestoppedandclosedhislipstightly,andlookedwithacunninglittlesmileatMilburgh."Ididn'tsayanything,didI?"heaskedwithaqueerlittlechuckle."Ididn'tsayanythingthatwouldgivemeaway,didI?"

"No,my friend," saidMr.Milburgh, still in the character of the benevolentpastor."Towhatgirldoyourefer?"

ThefaceofSamStaytwistedintoamalignantsmile.

"There'sonlyonegirl,"hesaidbetweenhis teeth,"andI'llgether. I'll settlewith her! I've got something here——" he felt in his pocket in a vague,aimlessway. "I thought Ihad it, I'vecarried it about so long;but I'vegot itsomewhere,IknowIhave!"

"SoyouhateMissRider,doyou?"askedMilburgh.

"Hateher!"

The little fellowalmost shouted thewords,his facepurple,hiseyes startingfromhishead,histwohandstwistedconvulsively.

"IthoughtI'dfinishedherlastnight,"hebegan,andstopped.

The words had no significance for Mr. Milburgh, since he had seen nonewspapersthatday.

"Listen,"Samwenton."Haveyoueverlovedanybody?"

Mr. Milburgh was silent. To him Odette Rider was nothing, but about thewomanOdetteRiderhadcalledmotherandthewomanhecalledwife,circledtheoneprecioussentimentinhislife.

"Yes,IthinkIhave,"hesaidafterapause."Why?"

"Well,youknowhowI feel,don'tyou?" saidSamStayhuskily. "Youknow

howIwant toget thebetterof thispartywhobroughthimdown.She luredhim on—lured him on—oh,myGod!"He buried his face in his hands andswayedfromsidetoside.

Mr.Milburghlookedroundinsomeapprehension.Noonewasinsight.

Odettewouldbetheprincipalwitnessagainsthimandthismanhatedher.Hehadsmallcauseforlovingher.ShewastheonewitnessthattheCrowncouldproduce, now that hehaddestroyed thedocumentary evidenceof his crime.Whatcasewould theyhaveagainsthimif theystoodhimin thedockat theOldBailey,ifOdetteRiderwerenotforthcomingtotestifyagainsthim?

Hethoughtthematterovercold-bloodedly,asamerchantmightconsidersomecommercial propositionwhich is put before him. He had learnt that OdetteRider was in London in a nursing home, as the result of a set of curiouscircumstances.

He had called up Lyne's Store that morning on the telephone to discoverwhether there had been any inquiries for him and had heard from his chiefassistant thatanumberofarticlesofclothinghadbeenordered tobesent tothis address for Miss Rider's use. He had wondered what had caused hercollapse,andconcludedthatitwastheresultofthestraintowhichthegirlhadbeen subjected in that remarkable interviewwhich she andhe had hadwithTarlingatHertfordonthenightbefore.

"SupposeyoumetMissRider?"hesaid."Whatcouldyoudo?"

SamStayshowedhisteethinagrin.

"Well,anyway,you'renotlikelytomeetherforsometime.Sheisinanursinghome,"saidMilburgh,"andthenursinghome,"hewentondeliberately,"isat304,CavendishPlace."

"304,CavendishPlace,"repeatedSam."That'snearRegentStreet,isn'tit?"

"Idon'tknowwhereitis,"saidMr.Milburgh."Sheisat304,CavendishPlace,sothatitisveryunlikelythatyouwillmeetherforsometime."

Herosetohisfeet,andhesawthemanwasshakingfromheadtofootlikeamaninthegripofague.

"304, Cavendish Place," he repeated, and without another word turned hisbackonMr.Milburghandslunkaway.

Thatworthygentlemanlookedafterhimandshookhishead,andthenrising,turnedandwalkedintheotherdirection.ItwasjustaseasytotakeaticketfortheContinentatWaterloostationasitwasatCharingCross.Inmanywaysitwassafer.

CHAPTERXXXIITHEDIARYOFTHORNTONLYNE

Tarling should have been sleeping. Every bone and sinew in him ached forrest.His headwas sunk over a table in his flat. Lyne's diaries stood in twopilesonthetable,thebiggerpilethatwhichhehadread,thelesserbeingthosewhichTarlinghadyettoexamine.

The diaries had been blank books containing no printed date lines. In somecasesonebookwouldcoveraperiodoftwoorthreeyears,inothercasesthreeorfourbookswouldbetakenupbytherecordofafewmonths.Thepileontheleftgrew,andthepileontherightbecamesmaller,untiltherewasonlyonebook—adiary newer than the otherswhich had been fastened by two brasslocks,buthadbeenopenedbytheScotlandYardexperts.

Tarlingtookupthisvolumeandturnedtheleaves.Ashehadexpected,itwasthecurrentdiary—thatonwhichThorntonLynehadbeenengagedatthetimeof his murder. Tarling opened the book in a spirit of disappointment. Theearlierbookshadyieldednothingsavearevelationofthewriter'segotism.HehadreadLyne'saccountofthehappeningsinShanghai,butafterallthatwasnothingfresh,andaddedlittletothesumofthedetective'sknowledge.

He did not anticipate that the last volumewould yield anymore promisingreturnforhisstudy.Nevertheless,hereaditcarefully,andpresentlydrawingawritingpadtowardhim,hebegantonotedownexcerptsfromthediary.Therewas the story, told in temperate language and with surprising mildness, ofOdette Rider's rejection of Thornton Lyne's advances. It was a curiouslyuninterestingrecord,untilhecametoadatefollowingthereleaseofSamStayfrom gaol, and here Thornton Lyne enlarged upon the subject of his"humiliation."

"Stayisoutofprison,"theentryran."Itispathetictoseehowthismanadoresme.IalmostwishsometimesthatIcouldkeephimoutofgaol;butifIdidso,and converted him into a dull, respectable person, I should miss thesedelicious experiences which his worship affords. It is good to bask in thebrightsunlightofhisadoration!ItalkedtohimofOdette.Astrangemattertodiscuss with a lout, but he was so wonderful a listener! I exaggerated, thetemptationwas great. How he loathed her by the time I was through ... heactually put forward a plan to 'spoil her looks,' as he put it. He had beenworking in the same prison gang as a man who was undergoing a term ofpenal servitude for 'doing in' his girl thatway ... vitriolwas used, andSam

suggestedthatheshoulddothework....Iwashorrified,butitgavemeanidea.Hesayshecangivemeakeythatwillopenanydoor.SupposeIwent...inthedark?AndIcouldleaveacluebehind.Whatclue?Hereisathought.SupposeI left something unmistakablyChinese? Tarling had evidently been friendlywiththegirl...somethingChinesemightplacehimundersuspicion...."

The diary ended with the word "suspicion," an appropriate ending. Tarlingreadthepassagesagainandagainuntilhealmosthadthembyheart.Thenheclosedthebookandlockeditawayinhisdrawer.

Hesatwithhischinonhishandforhalfanhour.Hewaspiecingtogetherthepuzzlewhich ThorntonLyne hadmade somuchmore simple. Themysterywas clearing up.ThorntonLynehadgone to that flat not in response to thetelegram,butwith theobjectof compromisingandpossibly ruining thegirl.He had gonewith the little slip of paper inscribedwithChinese characters,intendingtoleavetheHonginaconspicuousplace,thatsomebodyelsemightbeblamedforhisinfamy.

Milburghhadbeenintheflatforanotherpurpose.Thetwomenhadmet;therehadbeenaquarrel;andMilburghhadfiredthefatalshot.ThatpartofthestorysolvedthemysteryofThorntonLyne'slistslippersandhisChinesecharacters;hisverypresencetherewasclearedup.HethoughtofSamStay'soffer.

ItcameinaflashtoTarlingthatthemanwhohadthrownthebottleofvitriolathim,whohadsaidhehadkept it foryears—wasSamStay.Stay,withhisschemeforblastingthewomanwho,hebelieved,hadhumiliatedhisbelovedpatron.

AndnowforMilburgh,thelastlinkinthechain.

Tarling had arranged for the superintendent in charge of the Cannon RowPolice Station to notify him if any news came through. The inspector'smessagedidnotarrive,andTarlingwentdownthroughWhitehalltohearthelatest intelligence at first hand. That was to be precious little. As he wastalkingtherearrivedonthesceneanagitateddriver,theproprietorofataxicabwhichhadbeen lost.Anordinarycasesuchascome thewayof theLondonpolicealmosteveryday.ThecabmanhadtakenamanandawomantooneoftheWestEndtheatres,andhadbeenengagedtowaitduringtheeveningandpickthemupwhentheperformancewasthrough.Aftersettingdownhisfares,hehadgonetoasmalleating-houseforabitofsupper.Whenhecameoutthecabhaddisappeared.

"Iknowwhodoneit,"hesaidvehemently,"andifIhadhimhere,I'd...."

"Howdoyouknow?"

"Helookedinatthecoffee-shopwhileIwaseatingmybitoffood."

"Whatdidhelooklike?"askedthestationinspector.

"Hewasamanwithawhiteface,"saidthevictim,"Icouldpickhimoutofathousand.Andwhat'smore,hehadabrand-newpairofbootson."

Tarlinghadstrolledawayfromtheofficer'sdeskwhilstthisconversationwasinprogress,butnowhereturned.

"Didhespeakatall?"heasked.

"Yes, sir," said the cabman. "I happened to ask him if he was looking foranybody,andhesaidno,andthenwentontotalkalotofrubbishaboutamanwhohadbeenthebestfriendanypoorchapcouldhavehad.Myseathappenedtobenearestthedoor,that'showIgotintoconversationwithhim.Ithoughthewasoffhisnut."

"Yes,yes,goon,"saidTarlingimpatiently."Whathappenedthen?"

"Well, he went out," said the cabman, "and presently I heard a cab beingcrankedup.Ithoughtitwasoneoftheotherdrivers—therewereseveralcabsoutside.Theeating-houseisaplacewhichcabmenuse,andIdidn'ttakeverymuchnoticeuntilIcameoutandfoundmycabgoneandtheolddevilI'dleftinchargeinapublic-housedrinkingbeerwiththemoneythisfellowhadgivenhim."

"Soundslikeyourman,sir,"saidtheinspector,lookingatTarling.

"That'sSamStayallright,"hesaid,"butit'snewstomethathecoulddriveataxi."

Theinspectornodded.

"Oh,IknowSamStayallright,sir.We'vehadhiminheretwoorthreetimes.Heusedtobeataxi-driver—didn'tyouknowthat?"

Tarlingdidnotknowthat.HehadintendedlookingupSam'srecordthatday,butsomethinghadoccurredtoputthematteroutofhismind.

"Well,hecan'tgofar,"hesaid."You'llcirculate thedescriptionof thecab, Isuppose?Hemaybeeasiertofind.Hecan'thidethecabaswellashecanhidehimself,andifheimaginesthatthepossessionofacarisgoingtohelphimtoescapehe'smakingamistake."

TarlingwasgoingbacktoHertfordthatnight,andhadinformedLingChuofhis intention.He leftCannonRowPoliceStation,walkedacross the road toScotlandYard,toconferwithWhiteside,whohadpromisedtomeethim.Hewas pursuing independent inquiries and collecting details of evidenceregardingtheHertfordcrime.

WhitesidewasnotinwhenTarlingcalled,andthesergeantondutyinthelittleofficebythemaindoorhurriedforward.

"This came for you two hours ago, sir," he said "We thought you were inHertford."

"This"wasaletteraddressedinpencil,andMr.Milburghhadmadenoattemptto disguise his handwriting. Tarling tore open the envelope and read thecontents:

"DearMr.Tarling,"itbegan."IhavejustreadintheEveningPress,with thedeepestsorrowanddespair,thenewsthatmydearlyBelovedwife,CatherineRider,hasbeenfoullymurdered.HowterribletothinkthatafewhoursagoIwas conversing with her assassin, as I believe Sam Stay to be, and hadinadvertentlygivenhiminformationastowhereMissRiderwastobefound!Ibegofyouthatyouwilllosenotimeinsavingherfromthehandsofthiscruelmadman,whoseemstohaveonlyoneidea,andthattoavengethedeathofthelateMr.ThorntonLyne.WhenthisreachesyouIshallbebeyondthepowerofhumanvengeance,forIhavedeterminedtoendalifewhichhasheldsomuchsorrowanddisappointment.—M."

He was satisfied that Mr. Milburgh would not commit suicide, and theinformationwassuperfluous thatSamStayhadmurderedMrs.Rider. ItwastheknowledgethatthisvengefullunaticknewwhereOdetteRiderwasstayingwhichmadeTarlingsweat.

"WhereisMr.Whiteside?"heasked.

"He has gone to Cambours Restaurant to meet somebody, sir," said thesergeant.

ThesomebodywasoneofMilburgh'ssatellitesatLyne'sStore.Tarlingmustsee him without delay. The inspector had control of all the officialarrangements connectedwith the case, and itwould be necessary to consulthimbeforehecouldplacedetectivestowatchthenursinghomeinCavendishPlace.

HefoundacabanddrovetoCambours,whichwasinSoho,andwasfortunateenoughtodiscoverWhitesideintheactofleaving.

"Ididn'tgetmuch from that fellow,"Whitesidebegan,whenTarlinghandedhimtheletter.

TheScotlandYardmanreaditthroughwithoutcommentandhandeditback.

"Ofcoursehehasn'tcommittedsuicide.It'sthelastthingintheworldthatmenoftheMilburghtypeeverthinkaboutseriously.Heisacold-bloodedvillain.Imaginehimsittingdowntowritecalmlyabouthiswife'smurderer!"

"Whatdoyouthinkoftheothermatter—thethreatagainstOdette?"

Whitesidenodded.

"Theremaybesomethinginit,"hesaid."Certainlywecannottakerisks.HasanythingbeenheardofStay?"

Tarlingtoldthestoryofthestolentaxicab.

"We'llhavehim,"saidWhitesideconfidently."He'llhavenopals,andwithoutpalsinthemotorbusinessitispracticallyimpossibletogetacaraway."

He got into Tarling's cab, and a fewminutes later theywere at the nursinghome.

Thematroncametothem,asedate,motherlylady.

"I'msorry todisturbyouat thishourof thenight," saidTarling, sensingherdisapproval. "But informationhas come tome this eveningwhich renders itnecessarythatMissRidershouldbeguarded."

"Guarded?" said the matron in surprise. "I don't quite understand you, Mr.Tarling.IhadcomedowntogiveyouratherablowingupaboutMissRider.Youknowsheisabsolutelyunfittogoout.IthoughtImadethatcleartoyouwhenyouwereherethismorning?"

"Go out?" said the puzzled Tarling. "What do youmean? She is not goingout."

Itwasthematron'sturntobesurprised.

"Butyousentforherhalfanhourago,"shesaid.

"I sent for her?" said Tarling, turning pale. "Tell me, please, what hashappened?"

"About half an hour ago, or it may be a little longer," said the matron, "acabmancametothedoorandtoldmethathehadbeensentbytheauthoritiestofetchMissRideratonce—shewaswantedinconnectionwithhermother'smurder."

SomethinginTarling'sfacebetrayedhisemotion.

"Didyounotsendforher?"sheaskedinalarm.

Tarlingshookhishead.

"Whatwasthemanlikewhocalled?"heasked:

"Averyordinary-lookingman,ratherunder-sizedandill-looking—itwasthetaxi-driver."

"Youhavenoideawhichwaytheywent?"

"No,"repliedthematron."IverymuchobjectedtoMissRidergoingatall,butwhen I gave her the message, which apparently had come from you, sheinsistedupongoing."

Tarlinggroaned.OdetteRiderwas in thepowerof amaniacwhohatedher,whohadkilledhermotherandhadcherishedaplanfordisfiguringthebeautyofthegirlwhomhebelievedhadbetrayedhisbelovedmaster.

Withoutany furtherwordshe turnedand left thewaiting-room, followedbyWhiteside.

"It'shopeless,"hesaid,whentheywereoutside,"hopeless,hopeless!MyGod!Howterrible!Idarenotthinkofit.IfMilburghisaliveheshallsuffer."

Hegavedirectionstothecab-driverandfollowedWhitesideintothecab.

"I'mgoingbacktomyflattopickupLingChu,"hesaid."Ican'taffordtoloseanyhelphemaybeabletogiveus."

Whitesidewaspardonablypiqued.

"Idon'tknow ifyourLingChuwillbeable todoverymuch in thewayoftrailing a taxicab throughLondon."And then, recognising something of theother'sdistress,hesaidmoregently,"ThoughIagreewithyouthateveryhelpwecangetweshallneed."

On their arrival at the Bond Street flat, Tarling opened the door and wentupstairs, followed by the other. The flat was in darkness—an extraordinarycircumstance, for itwasanunderstood thing thatLingChushouldnot leavethehousewhilsthismasterwasout.AndLingChuhadundoubtedlyleft.Thedining-roomwas empty. The first thingTarling saw,when he turned on thelight,wasastripofricepaperonwhichtheinkwasscarcelydry.JusthalfadozenChinesecharactersandnomore.

"If you return before I, learn that I go to find the little-little woman," readTarlinginastonishment.

"Thenheknowsshe'sgone!ThankGodforthat!"hesaid."Iwonder——"

He stopped.He thought he had heard a lowmoan, and catching the eye ofWhiteside,hesawthattheScotlandYardmanhaddetectedthesamesound.

"Soundslikesomebodygroaning,"hesaid."Listen!"

Hebenthisheadandwaited,andpresentlyitcameagain.

IntwostridesTarlingwasatthedoorofLingChu'ssleepingplace,butitwaslocked.He stooped to the key-hole and listened, and again heard themoan.

Withathrustofhisshoulderhehadbrokenthedooropenanddashedin.

Thesightthatmethiseyeswasaremarkableone.Therewasamanlyingonthebed,strippedtothewaist.Hishandsandhislegswereboundandawhiteclothcoveredhisface.ButwhatTarlingsawbeforeallelsewasthatacrossthecentreofthebroadchestwerefourlittleredlines,whichTarlingrecognised.Theywere"persuaders,"bywhichnativeChinesepolicemensecretlyextractconfessions from unwilling criminals—light cuts with a sharp knife on thesurfaceoftheskin,andafter——

Helookedaroundforthe"torturebottle,"butitwasnotinsight.

"Whoisthis?"heasked,andliftedtheclothfromtheman'sface.

ItwasMilburgh.

CHAPTERXXXIIILINGCHU—TORTURER

MuchhadhappenedtoMr.MilburghbetweenthetimeofhisdiscoverylyingboundandhelplessandshowingevidencethathehadbeeninthehandsofaChinesetorturerandthemomentheleftSamStay.Hehadreadofthemurder,andhadbeenshocked,and,inhisway,grieved.

It was not to saveOdette Rider that he sent his note to ScotlandYard, butrathertoavengehimselfuponthemanwhohadkilledtheonlywomanintheworld who had touched his warped nature. Nor had he any intention ofcommittingsuicide.Hehadthepassportswhichhehadsecuredayearbeforeinreadinessforsuchastep(hehadkeptthatclericaluniformofhisbyhimallthattime)andwasreadyatamoment'snoticetoleavethecountry.

Histicketswereinhispocket,andwhenhedespatchedthedistrictmessengerto ScotlandYard hewas on hisway toWaterloo station to catch theHavreboattrain.Thepolice,heknew,wouldbewatchingthestation,buthehadnofear that they would discover beneath the benign exterior of a countryclergyman,thewantedmanagerofLyne'sStore,evensupposingthattherewasawarrantoutforhisarrest.

Hewasstandingatabookstall,purchasingliteraturetowhileawaythehoursofthejourney,whenhefeltahandlaidonhisarmandexperiencedacurioussinkingsensation.Heturnedtolookintoabrownmaskofafacehehadseenbefore.

"Well,myman,"heaskedwithasmile,"whatcanIdoforyou?"

HehadaskedthequestioninidenticaltermsofSamStay—hisbraintoldhimthatmuch,mechanically.

"Youwillcomewithme,Mr.Milburgh,"saidLingChu."Itwillbebetterforyouifyoudonotmakeanytrouble."

"Youaremakingamistake."

"IfIammakingamistake,"saidLingChucalmly,"youhaveonlytotellthatpolicemanthatIhavemistakenyouforMilburgh,whoiswantedbythepoliceonachargeofmurder,andIshallgetintoveryserioustrouble."

Milburgh'slipswerequiveringwithfearandhisfacewasapastygrey.

"Iwillcome,"hesaid.

LingChuwalked by his side, and they passed out ofWaterloo station. ThejourneytoBondStreetremainedinMilburgh'smemorylikeahorribledream.Hewas not used to travelling on omnibuses, being something of a sybaritewhosparednothingtoensurehisowncomfort.LingChuonthecontraryhadapenchantforbusesandseemedtoenjoythem.

No word was spoken until they reached the sitting-room of Tarling's flat.Milburgh expected to see the detective. He had already arrived at theconclusionthatLingChuwasbutamessengerwhohadbeensentbythemanfromShanghaitobringhimtohispresence.ButtherewasnosignofTarling.

"Now,myfriend,whatdoyouwant?"heasked."ItistrueIamMr.Milburgh,butwhenyousaythatIhavecommittedmurderyouaretellingawickedlie."

Hehadgainedsomecourage,becausehehadexpectedinthefirstplacetobetaken immediately to Scotland Yard and placed in custody. The fact thatTarling'sflatlayattheendofthejourneyseemedtosuggestthatthesituationwasnotasdesperateashehadimagined.

LingChu, turning suddenly uponMilburgh, gripped him by thewrist, half-turningashedidso.BeforeMilburghknewwhatwashappening,hewaslyingonthefloor,facedownwards,withLingChu'skneeinthesmallofhisback.He felt something like awire loop slipped about hiswrists, and suffered anexcruciatingpainastheChinamantightenedtheconnectinglinkofthenativehandcuff.

"Getup,"saidLingChusternly,and,exertingasurprisingstrength,liftedthemantohisfeet.

"Whatareyougoingtodo?"saidMilburgh,histeethchatteringwithfear.

Therewasnoanswer.LingChugrippedthemanbyonehandandopeningthedoor with the other, pushed him into a room which was barely furnished.

Against thewall therewasan ironbed, andon to this themanwaspushed,collapsinginaheap.

TheChinesethief-catcherwentabouthisworkinascientificfashion.Firsthefastenedandthreadedalengthofsilkropethroughoneoftherailsofthebedand into the slack of this he lifted Milburgh's head, so that he could notstruggleexceptattheriskofbeingstrangled.

LingChuturnedhimover,unfastenedthehandcuffs,andmethodicallyboundfirstonewristandthentheothertothesideofthebed.

"Whatareyougoing todo?"repeatedMilburgh,but theChinamanmadenoreply.

Heproducedfromabeltbeneathhisblouseawicked-lookingknife,and themanager opened hismouth to shout.Hewas beside himselfwith terror, butany cause for fear had yet to come. The Chinaman stopped the cry bydroppingapillowontheman'sface,andbegandeliberatelytocuttheclothingontheupperpartofhisbody.

"Ifyoucryout,"hesaidcalmly,"thepeoplewillthinkitisIwhoamsinging!Chinamenhavenomusicintheirvoices,andsometimeswhenIhavesungmynativesongs,peoplehavecomeuptodiscoverwhowassuffering."

"You are acting illegally," breathedMilburgh, in a last attempt to save thesituation."Foryourcrimeyouwillsufferimprisonment"

"Ishallbefortunate,"saidLingChu;"forprisonislife.Butyouwillhangattheendofalongrope."

Hehad lifted thepillow fromMilburgh's face, andnow thatpallidmanwasfollowing every movement of the Chinaman with a fearful eye. PresentlyMilburgh was stripped to the waist, and Ling Chu regarded his handiworkcomplacently.

Hewenttoacupboardinthewall,andtookoutasmallbrownbottle,whichheplacedonatablebythesideofthebed.Thenhehimselfsatupontheedgeofthebedandspoke.HisEnglishwasalmostperfect,thoughnowandagainhehesitatedinthechoiceofaword,andthereweremomentswhenhewasalittlestiltedinhisspeech,andmorethanalittlepedantic.Hespokeslowlyandwithgreatdeliberation.

"YoudonotknowtheChinesepeople?YouhavenotbeenorlivedinChina?WhenIsaylivedIdonotmeanstayingforaweekatagoodhotelinoneofthe coast towns. Your Mr. Lyne lived in China in that way. It was not asuccessfulresidence."

"IknownothingaboutMr.Lyne,"interruptedMilburgh,sensingthatLingChu

insomewayassociatedhimwithThorntonLyne'smisadventures.

"Good!"saidLingChu,tappingtheflatbladeofhisknifeuponhispalm."IfyouhadlivedinChina—intherealChina—youmighthaveadimideaofourpeople and their characteristics. It is said that the Chinaman does not feardeathorpain,whichisaslightexaggeration,becauseIhaveknowncriminalswhofearedboth."

His thin lipscurved fora second in theghostofa smile, as thoughat someamusingrecollection.Thenhegrewseriousagain.

"FromtheWesternstandpointweareaprimitivepeople.Fromourownpointof viewwe are rigidly honourable.Also—and this Iwould emphasise."Hedid,infact,emphasisehiswordstotheterrorofMr.Milburgh,withthepointofhisknifeupontheother'sbroadchest,thoughsolightlywastheknifeheldthatMilburghfeltnothingbuttheslightesttingle.

"We do not set the same value upon the rights of the individual as do youpeoplein theWest.Forexample,"heexplainedcarefully,"wearenot tenderwithourprisoners,ifwethinkthatbyapplyingalittlepressuretothemwecanassisttheprocessofjustice."

"What do you mean?" askedMilburgh, a grisly thought dawning upon hismind.

"In Britain—and in America too, I understand—though the Americans aremuchmoreenlightenedonthissubject—whenyouarrestamemberofagangyouarecontentwithcross-examininghimandgivinghim full scope for theexerciseofhisinventivepower.Youaskhimquestionsandgoonaskingandasking,andyoudonotknowwhetherheislyingortellingthetruth."

Mr.Milburghbegantobreatheheavily.

"Hasthatideasunkintoyourmind?"askedLingChu.

"Idon'tknowwhatyoumean,"saidMr.Milburghinaquaveringvoice."AllIknowisthatyouarecommittingamost——"

LingChustoppedhimwithagesture.

"IamperfectlywellawareofwhatIamdoing,"hesaid."Nowlistentome.Aweekorsoago,Mr.ThorntonLyne,youremployer,wasfounddeadinHydePark. He was dressed in his shirt and trousers, and about his body, in anendeavourtostanchthewound,somebodyhadwrappedasilknight-dress.Hewaskilledintheflatofasmalllady,whosenameIcannotpronounce,butyouwillknowher."

Milburgh'seyesneverlefttheChinaman's,andhenodded.

"Hewas killed by you," saidLingChu slowly, "because he had discoveredthatyouhadbeenrobbinghim,andyouwereinfearthathewouldhandyouovertothepolice."

"That'salie,"roaredMilburgh."It'salie—Itellyouit'salie!"

"Ishalldiscoverwhetheritisalieinafewmoments,"saidLingChu.

HeputhishandinsidehisblouseandMilburghwatchedhimfascinated,butheproducednothingmoredeadly thanasilvercigarette-case,whichheopened.Heselectedacigaretteandlitit,andforafewminutespuffedinsilence,histhoughtfuleyesfixeduponMilburgh.Thenheroseandwenttothecupboardandtookoutalargerbottleandplaceditbesidetheother.

LingChupulledagainathiscigaretteandthenthrewitintothegrate.

"Itisintheinterestsofallparties,"hesaidinhisslow,haltingway,"thatthetruthshouldbeknown,bothforthesakeofmyhonourablemaster,LiehJen,theHunter,andhishonourableLittleLady."

Hetookuphisknifeandbentovertheterror-strickenman.

"ForGod'ssakedon't,don't,"halfscreamed,halfsobbedMilburgh.

"Thiswillnothurtyou,"saidLingChu,anddrewfourstraightlinesacrosstheother's breast. The keen razor edge seemed scarcely to touch the flesh, yetwheretheknifehadpassedwasathinredmarklikeascratch.

Milburghscarcelyfeltatwingeofpain,onlyamildirritatingsmartingandnomore.TheChinamanlaiddowntheknifeandtookupthesmallerbottle.

"Inthis,"hesaid,"isavegetableextract.Itiswhatyouwouldcallcapsicum,butitisnotquitelikeyourpepperbecauseitisdistilledfromanativeroot.Inthis bottle," he picked up the larger, "is a Chinese oil which immediatelyrelievesthepainwhichcapsicumcauses."

"What are you going to do?" asked Milburgh, struggling. "You dog! Youfiend!"

"With a little brush I will paint capsicum on these places." He touchedMilburgh's chestwith his longwhite ringers. "Little by little,millimetre bymillimetremybrushwillmove,andyouwillexperiencesuchpainasyouhaveneverexperiencedbefore.Itispainwhichwillrackyoufromheadtofoot,andwill remain with you all your life in memory. Sometimes," he saidphilosophically,"itdrivesmemad,butIdonotthinkitwilldriveyoumad."

He took out the cork and dipped a little camel-hair brush in the mixture,withdrawingitmoistwithfluid.HewaswatchingMilburghall thetime,andwhen the stoutman opened hismouth to yell he thrust a silk handkerchief,

whichhedrewwithlightningspeedfromhispocket,intotheopenmouth.

"Wait,wait!"gaspedthemuffledvoiceofMilburgh."Ihavesomethingtotellyou—somethingthatyourmastershouldknow."

"That is verygood," saidLingChu coolly, andpulledout thehandkerchief."Youshalltellmethetruth."

"WhattruthcanItellyou?"askedtheman,sweatingwithfear.Greatbeadsofsweatwerelyingonhisface.

"You shall confess the truth that youkilledThorntonLyne," saidLingChu."ThatistheonlytruthIwanttohear."

"IswearIdidnotkillhim!Iswear it, Iswear it!" raved theprisoner."Wait,wait!"hewhimperedastheotherpickedupthehandkerchief."DoyouknowwhathashappenedtoMissRider?"

TheChinamancheckedhismovement.

"ToMissRider?"hesaidquickly.(Hepronouncedtheword"Lider.")

Brokenly,gaspingly,breathlessly,MilburghtoldthestoryofhismeetingwithSamStay.Inhisdistressandmentalanguishhereproducedfaithfullynotonlyeveryword,buteveryintonation,andtheChinamanlistenedwithhalf-closedeyes.Then,whenMilburghhadfinished,heputdownhisbottleandthrustinthecork.

"Mymasterwouldwishthatthelittlewomanshouldescapedanger,"hesaid."To-night he does not return, so Imust gomyself to the hospital—you canwait."

"Letmego,"saidMilburgh."Iwillhelpyou."

LingChushookhishead.

"Youcanwait,"hesaidwithasinistersmile."Iwillgofirsttothehospitalandafterwards,ifalliswell,Iwillreturnforyou."

He took a clean white towel from the dressing-table and laid it over hisvictim'sface.Uponthetowelhesprinkledthecontentsofathirdbottlewhichhe took from the cupboard, and Milburgh remembered no more until helookedupintothepuzzledfaceofTarlinganhourlater.

CHAPTERXXXIVTHEARREST

Tarling stooped down and released the cords which boundMilburgh to thecouch.Thestoutmanwaswhiteandshaking,andhadtobeliftedintoasittingposition.He sat thereon the edgeof thebed,his face inhishands, for fiveminutes,andthetwomenwatchedhimcuriously.Tarlinghadmadeacarefulexaminationof thecutsonhis chest, andwas relieved todiscover thatLingChu—he did not doubt that the Chinaman was responsible for Milburgh'splight—hadnotyetemployedthatterribletorturewhichhadsooftenbroughtChinesecriminalstothevergeofmadness.

Whiteside picked up the clothes which Ling Chu had so systematicallystrippedfromtheman'sbody,andplacedthemonthebedbyMilburgh'sside.ThenTarlingbeckonedtheotherintotheouterroom.

"Whatdoesitallmean?"askedWhiteside.

"Itmeans,"saidTarlinggrimly,"thatmyfriend,LingChu,hasbeentryingtodiscover the murderer of Thornton Lyne by methods peculiarly Chinese.Happilyhewasinterrupted,probablyasaresultofMilburghtellinghimthatMissOdetteRiderhadbeenspiritedaway."

Helookedbacktothedroopingfigurebythesideofthebed.

"He'sa littlebigger thanI,"hesaid,"butI thinksomeofmyclotheswill fithim."

Hemade a hasty search of his wardrobe and came backwith an armful ofclothes.

"Come,Milburgh,"hesaid,"rouseyourselfanddress."

Themanlookedup,hislowerliptremblingpathetically.

"Iratherthinktheseclothes,thoughtheymaybeabadfit,willsuityoualittlebetterthanyourclericalgarb,"saidTarlingsardonically.

Withoutaword,Milburgh took theclothes inhisarms,and they lefthim todress. They heard his heavy footfall, and presently the door opened and hecameweaklyintothesitting-roomanddroppedintoachair.

"Doyoufeelwellenoughtogooutnow?"askedWhiteside.

"Goout?"saidMilburgh,lookingupinalarm."WhereamItogo?"

"To Cannon Row Police Station," said the practical Whiteside. "I have awarrantforyourarrest,Milburgh,onachargeofwilfulmurder,arson,forgery,andembezzlement."

"Wilful murder!" Milburgh's voice was high and squeaky and his shakinghandswenttohismouth."Youcannotchargemewithwilfulmurder.No,no,

no!IsweartoyouIaminnocent!"

"WheredidyouseeThorntonLynelast?"askedTarling,andthemanmadeagreatefforttocomposehimself.

"Isawhimlastaliveinhisoffice,"hebegan.

"WhendidyouseeThorntonLynelast?"askedTarlingagain."Aliveordead."

Milburgh did not reply. PresentlyWhiteside dropped his hand on theman'sshoulderandlookedacrossatTarling.

"Comealong,"hesaidbriskly."Itismydutyasapoliceofficertowarnyouthatanythingyounowsaywillbe takendownandusedasevidenceagainstyouatyourtrial."

"Wait,wait!"saidMilburgh.Hisvoicewashuskyandthick.Helookedround."CanIhaveaglassofwater?"hebegged,lickinghisdrylips.

Tarling brought the refreshment, which the man drank eagerly. The waterseemedtorevivesomethingofhisoldarrogantspirit,forhegotupfromhischair,jerkedatthecollarofhisill-fittingcoat—itwasanoldshooting-coatofTarling's—andsmiledforthefirsttime.

"Ithink,gentlemen,"hesaidwithsomethingofhisoldairiness,"youwillhaveadifficulty inproving that I amconcerned in themurderofThorntonLyne.YouwillhaveasgreatadifficultyinprovingthatIhadanythingtodowiththeburning down of Solomon's office—I presume that constitutes the arsoncharge? And most difficult of all will be your attempt to prove that I wasconcerned in robbing the firmofThorntonLyne.The ladywho robbed thatfirmhasalreadymadeaconfession,asyou,Mr.Tarling,arewellaware."Hesmiledattheother,butTarlingmethiseye.

"Iknowofnoconfession,"hesaidsteadily.

Mr.Milburghinclinedhisheadwithasmirk.Thoughhestillborethephysicalevidence of the bad time through which he had been, he had recoveredsomethingofhisoldconfidence.

"Theconfessionwasburnt,"hesaid,"andburntbyyou,Mr.Tarling.AndnowIthinkyourbluffhasgoneonlongenough."

"Mybluff!"saidTarling,inhisturnastonished."Whatdoyoumeanbybluff?"

"I am referring to the warrant which you suggest has been issued for myarrest,"saidMilburgh.

"That's no bluff." It was Whiteside who spoke, and he produced from hispocketafoldedsheetofpaper,whichheopenedanddisplayedundertheeyes

of theman. "And incaseofaccidents," saidWhiteside, anddeftly slippedapairofhandcuffsupontheman'swrists.

ItmayhavebeenMilburgh'soverweeningfaithinhisowngenius.Itmayhavebeen,andprobablywas,aconsciousnessthathehadcoveredhistrailtoowellto be detected. One or other of these causes had kept him up, but now hecollapsed.ToTarlingitwasamazingthatthemanhadmaintainedthisshowofbravado to the last, though in his heart he knew that theCrown had a verypoor case against Milburgh if the charge of embezzlement and arson wereproceededwith.Itwasonthemurderalonethataconvictioncouldbesecured;andthisMilburghevidentlyrealised,forhemadenoattemptintheremarkablestatement which followed to do more than hint that he had been guilty ofrobbingthefirm.Hesathuddledupinhischair,hismanacledhandsclaspedonthetablebeforehim,andthenwithajerksatupright.

"If you'll take off these things, gentlemen," he said, jangling the connectingchainofthehandcuffs,"IwilltellyousomethingwhichmaysetyourmindatrestonthequestionofThorntonLyne'sdeath."

Whiteside looked at his superior questioningly, and Tarling nodded. A fewsecondslaterthehandcuffshadbeenremoved,andMr.Milburghwassoothinghischafedwrists.

The psychologist who attempted to analyse the condition ofmind inwhichTarlingfoundhimselfwouldbefacedwithadifficulttask.HehadcometotheflatbesidehimselfwithanxietyatthedisappearanceofOdetteRider.Hehadintendeddashingintohisroomsandoutagain,thoughwhatheintendeddoingthereafterhehadno idea.Theknowledge thatLingChuwason the trackofthekidnapperhadservedasanopiatetohisjaggednerves;otherwisehecouldnothavestayedandlistenedtothestatementMilburghwaspreparingtomake.

Nowandagainitcamebacktohim,likeatwingeofpain, thatOdetteRiderwas in danger; and he wanted to have done with this business, to bundleMilburghintoaprisoncell,anddevotethewholeofhisenergiestotracingher.Suchatwingecametohimnowashewatchedthestoutfigureatthetable.

"Before you start," he said, "tellme this:What information did you give toLingChuwhichledhimtoleaveyou?"

"I told him aboutMissRider," saidMilburgh, "and I advanced a theory—itwasonlyatheory—astowhathadhappenedtoher."

"Isee,"saidTarling."Nowtellyourstoryandtellitquickly,myfriend,andtrytokeeptothetruth.WhomurderedThorntonLyne?"

Milburghtwistedhisheadslowlytowardshimandsmiled.

"If you could explainhow thebodywas taken fromOdetteRider's flat," hesaid slowly, "and left inHydePark, I couldansweryou immediately.For tothisminute,IbelievethatThorntonLynewaskilledbyOdetteRider."

Tarlingdrewalongbreath.

"Thatisalie,"hesaid.

Mr.Milburghwasinnowayputout.

"Verywell,"hesaid."Now,perhapsyouwillbekindenoughtolistentomystory."

CHAPTERXXXVMILBURGH'SSTORY

"Idonotintend,"saidMr.Milburghinhisbestoracularmanner,"describingalltheeventswhichprecededthedeathofthelateThorntonLyne.NorwillIgotoanylengthtodealwithhiswell-knownandevennotoriouscharacter.Hewasnotagoodemployer;hewassuspicious,unjust,andinmanywaysmean.Mr.Lynewas,Iadmit,suspiciousofme.HewasundertheimpressionthatIhadrobbedthefirmofveryconsiderablesumsofmoney—asuspicionwhichIinturnhadlongsuspected,andhadconfirmedbyalittleconversationwhichIoverheardonthefirstdayIhadthepleasureofseeingyou,Mr.Tarling."

TarlingrememberedthatfataldaywhenMilburghhadcomeintotheofficeatthe moment that Lyne was expressing his views very freely about hissubordinate.

"Ofcourse,gentlemen,"saidMilburgh,"IdonotforonemomentadmitthatIrobbedthefirm,or thatIwasguiltyofanycriminalacts.Iadmit therewerecertain irregularities, certain carelessnesses, for which I was morallyresponsible;andbeyondthatIadmitnothing.Ifyouaremakinganote"—heturnedtoWhiteside,whowastakingdownthestatementinshorthand,"Ibegofyoutomakeaspecialpointofmydenial.Irregularitiesandcarelessnesses,"herepeatedcarefully."BeyondthatIamnotpreparedtogo."

"Inotherwords,youarenotconfessinganything?"

"Iamnotconfessinganything,"agreedMr.Milburghwithheavygravity."Itissufficient thatMr.Lynesuspectedme,andthathewaspreparedtoemployadetectiveinordertotracemydefalcations,ashetermedthem.ItistruethatIlived expensively, that I own two houses, one inCamdenTown and one atHertford;butthenIhadspeculatedontheStockExchangeandspeculatedvery

wisely.

"But I am a sensitive man, gentlemen; and the knowledge that I wasresponsible for certain irregularities preyed upon my mind. Let us say, forexample, that I knew somebody had been robbing the firm, but that I wasunable to detect that somebody. Would not the fact that I was morallyresponsible for the finances of Lyne's Stores cause me particularunhappiness?"

"Youspeaklikeabook,"saidWhiteside,"andIforonedon'tbelieveawordyousay.Ithinkyouwereathief,Milburgh;butgoonyourownsweetway."

"Ithankyou,"saidMr.Milburghsarcastically."Well,gentlemen,mattershadcometoacrisis.Ifeltmyresponsibility.IknewsomebodyhadbeenrobbingthehouseandIhadanideathatpossiblyIwouldbesuspected,andthatthosewhoweredeartome"—hisvoiceshookforamoment,broke,andgrewhusky—"thosewhoweredeartome,"herepeated,"wouldbevisitedwithmysinsofomission.

"Miss Odette Rider had been dismissed from the firm of Lyne's Stores inconsequenceofherhaving rejected theundesirable advancesof the lateMr.Lyne.Mr.Lyneturnedthewholeweightofhisrageagainstthisgirl,andthatgavemeanidea.

"Thenightaftertheinterview—oritmayhavebeenthesamenight—Irefertothe interview which Mr. Tarling had with the late Thornton Lyne—I wasworking late at theoffice. Iwas, in fact, clearingupMr.Lyne'sdesk. I hadoccasionto leavetheoffice,andonmyreturnfoundtheplaceindarkness. Ire-connected the light, and then discovered on the desk a particularlymurderouslookingrevolver.

"In the statement Imade to you, sir," he turned to Tarling, "I said that thatpistol had not been found by me; and indeed, I professed the profoundestignorance of its existence. I regret to confess to you that I was telling anuntruth. I did find thepistol; I put it inmypocket and I took it home. It isprobablethatwiththatpistolMr.Lynewasfatallyshot."

Tarlingnodded.

"I hadn't the slightest doubt about that, Milburgh. You also had anotherautomaticpistol,purchasedsubsequenttothemurderfromJohnWadham'sofHolbornCircus."

Mr.Milburghbowedhishead.

"Thatisperfectlytrue,sir,"hesaid."Ihavesuchaweapon.Iliveaverylonelykindoflife,and——"

"Youneednotexplain.Imerelytellyou,"saidTarling,"thatIknowwhereyougotthepistolwithwhichyoushotatmeonthenightIbroughtOdetteRiderbackfromAshford."

Mr.Milburghclosedhiseyesandtherewasresignationwrittenlargelyonhisface—theresignationofanill-usedandfalsely-accusedman.

"I think itwouldbebetternot todiscusscontroversial subjects,"hesaid."Ifyouwillallowme,Iwillkeeptothefacts."

Tarlingcouldhavelaughedatthesublimeimpertinenceoftheman,butthathewasgrowing irritablewith thedouble strainwhichwasbeing imposeduponhim. It was probable that, had not this man accused Odette Rider of themurder,hewouldhavelefthimtomakehisconfessiontoWhiteside,andhavegonealoneinhishopelesssearchforthetaxicabdrivenbySamStay.

"To resume," continuedMr.Milburgh, "I took the revolver home. Youwillunderstand that I was in a condition of mind bordering upon a nervousbreakdown. I feltmy responsibilitiesverykeenly,and I felt that ifMr.Lynewouldnotacceptmyprotestationsofinnocence,therewasnothingleftformebuttoquitthisworld."

"Inotherwords,youcontemplatedsuicide?"saidWhiteside.

"You have accurately diagnosed the situation," said Milburgh ponderously."MissRiderhadbeendismissed,andIwason thepointof ruin.Hermotherwouldbe involved in thecrash—thosewere the thoughtswhich ran throughmymindasIsatinmyhumbledining-roominCamdenTown.Thentheideaflashed upon me. I wondered whether Odette Rider loved her mothersufficientlywelltomakethegreatsacrifice,totakefullresponsibilityfortheirregularitieswhichhadoccurredintheaccounts'departmentofLyne'sStores,andclearawaytotheContinentuntilthematterblewover.Iintendedseeingherthenextday,butIwasstilldoubtfulastowhethershewouldfallinwithmy views. Young people nowadays," he said sententiously, "are terriblyselfish."

"Asithappened,I justcaughtherasshewasleavingforHertford,andIputthesituationbeforeher.Thepoorgirlwasnaturallyshocked,butshereadilyfellinwithmysuggestionandsignedtheconfessionwhichyou,Mr.Tarling,sothoughtfullyburnt."

WhitesidelookedatTarling.

"Iknewnothingofthis,"hesaidalittlereproachfully.

"Goon,"saidTarling."Iwillexplainthatafterwards."

"I had previously wired the girl's mother that she would not be home that

night.IalsowiredtoMr.Lyne,askinghimtomeetmeatMissRider'sflat.ItookthelibertyoffixingMissRider'snametotheinvitation,thinkingthatthatwouldinducehimtocome."

"Italsocoveredyou,"saidTarling,"andkeptyournameoutof thebusinessaltogether."

"Yes,"saidMr.Milburgh,asthoughtheideahadnotstruckhimbefore,"yes,itdidthat.IhadsentMissRideroffinahurry.Ibeggedthatshewouldnotgoneartheflat,andIpromisedthatImyselfwouldgothere,packthenecessaryarticlesforthejourneyandtakethemdowninataxitoCharingCross."

"Isee,"saidTarling,"soitwasyouwhopackedthebag?"

"Half-packedit,"correctedMr.Milburgh."Yousee,I'dmadeamistakeinthetimethetrainleft.ItwasonlywhenIwaspackingthebagthatIrealiseditwasimpossibleformetogetdowntothestationintime.IhadmadearrangementswithMissRiderthatifIdidnotturnupIwouldtelephonetoheraquarterofanhourbeforethetrainleft.Shewastoawaitmeintheloungeofanear-byhotel.Ihadhopedtogettoheratleastanhourbeforethetrainleft,becauseIdidnotwishtoattractattentiontomyself,or,"headded,"toMissRider.WhenIlookedatmywatch,andrealisedthatitwasimpossibletogetdown,Ileftthebag as it was, half-packed and went outside to the tube station andtelephoned."

"Howdidyougetinandout?"askedTarling."Theporterondutyatthedoorsaidhesawnobody."

"Iwentout thebackway,"explainedMr.Milburgh."It isreallythesimplestthingintheworldtogetintoMissRider'sbasementflatbywayofthemewsbehind.Allthetenantshavekeystothebackdoorsothattheycanbringtheircyclesinandout,orgetintheircoals."

"Iknowthat,"saidTarling."Goon."

"Iamalittleinadvanceoftheactualstory,"saidMilburgh."Thebusinessofpacking thebag takesmynarrativealonga little farther thanI intended it togo. Having said good-bye to Miss Rider, I passed the rest of the eveningperfectingmyplans.Itwouldservenousefulpurpose,"saidMilburghwithanairywaveofhishand,"ifIweretotellyoutheargumentsIintendedputtingbeforehim."

"If they did not include the betrayal ofMiss Rider, I'm a Dutchman," saidTarling."Iprettywellknowtheargumentsyouintendedusing."

"Then, Mr. Tarling, allow me to congratulate you upon being a thought-reader,"saidMilburgh,"becauseIhavenotrevealedmysecretthoughtstoany

humanbeing.However,thatisbesidethepoint.I intendedtopleadwithMr.Lyne.Iintendedtoofferhimtherecordofyearsofloyalservicetohissaintedfather;and if theconfessionwasnotaccepted,and ifhestillpersisted inhisrevengefulplan,then,Mr.Tarling,Iintendedshootingmyselfbeforehiseyes."

He said this with rare dramatic effect; but Tarling was unimpressed, andWhitesidelookedupfromhisnoteswithatwinkleinhiseye.

"Youhobby seems tobepreparing for suicide and changingyourmind,"hesaid.

"I am sorry to hear you speak so flippantly on a solemn subject," saidMilburgh."AsIsay,Iwaitedalittletoolong;butIwasanxiousforcompletedarknesstofallbeforeImademywayintotheflat.ThisIdideasilybecauseOdettehadlentmeherkey.Ifoundherbagwithnodifficulty—itwasinthedining-roomonashelf,andplacingthecaseuponherbed,Iproceeded,asbestIcould,forIamnotveryfamiliarwiththearticlesoffemininetoilette,toputtogethersuchthingsasIknewshewouldrequireonthejourney.

"Iwasthusengagedwhen,asIsay,itoccurredtomethatIhadmistakenthetimeof thetrain,and, lookingatmywatch,IsawtomyconsternationthatIshouldnotbeabletogetdowntothestationintime.HappilyIhadarrangedtocallherup,asIhavealreadytoldyou."

"Onemoment,"saidTarling."Howwereyoudressed?"

"HowwasIdressed?Letmethink.Iworeaheavyovercoat,Iknow,"saidMr.Milburgh,"forthenightwaschillyandalittlefoggy,ifyouremember."

"Wherewastherevolver?"

"Intheovercoatpocket,"repliedMilburghimmediately.

"Hadyouyourovercoaton?"

Milburghthoughtforamoment.

"No, I had not. I had hung it up on a hook at the foot of the bed, near thealcovewhichIbelieveMissRiderusedasawardrobe."

"Andwhenyouwentouttotelephone,hadyouyourovercoat?"

"No, that I am perfectly certain about," saidMilburgh readily. "I rememberthinkinglaterhowfoolishitwastobringanovercoatoutandnotuseit."

"Goon,"saidTarling.

"Well, I reached the station, called up the hotel, and to my surprise andannoyanceMissRider did not answer. I asked the porterwho answeredmy'phonecallwhetherhehadseenayoungladydressedinso-and-sowaitingin

the lounge, and he replied 'no.' Therefore," saidMr.Milburgh emphatically,"youwillagreethatitispossiblethatMissRiderwasnoteitheratthestationoratthehotel,andtherewasadistinctpossibilitythatshehaddoubledback."

"Wewantthefacts,"interruptedWhiteside."Wehaveenoughtheories.Telluswhathappened.Thenwewilldrawourownconclusions."

"Verygood,sir,"repliedMilburghcourteously."BythetimeIhadtelephoneditwashalf-pastnineo'clock.YouwillrememberthatIhadwiredtoMr.Lynetomeetmeattheflatateleven.ObviouslytherewasnoreasonwhyIshouldgobacktotheflatuntilafewminutesbeforeMr.Lynewasdue,tolethimin.Youaskedmejustnow,sir,"heturnedtoTarling,"whetherIhadmyovercoaton,andIcanstatemostemphaticallythatIhadnot.Iwasgoingbacktotheflat with the intention of collecting my overcoat, when I saw a number ofpeoplewalking about themews behind the block. I had no desire to attractattention,asIhavetoldyoubefore,soIstoodwaitinguntilthesepeople,whowereemployeesofamotor-carcompanywhichhadagaragebehindtheflat,haddispersed.

"Now, waiting at the corner of a mews on a cold spring night is a coldbusiness, and seeing that itwould be some time before themewswould beclear,IwentbacktothemainstreetandstrolledalonguntilIcametoapicturepalace.Iampartialtocinematographdisplays,"explainedMr.Milburgh,"and,although Iwasnot in themood for entertainment,yet I thought thepictureswouldaffordapleasantattraction.Iforgetthenameofthefilm——"

"Itisnotnecessarythatyoushouldtellusforthemoment,"saidTarling."Willyoupleasemakeyourstoryasshortaspossible?"

Milburghwassilentforamoment.

"Iamcomingnowtothemostextraordinaryfact,"hesaid,"andIwouldaskyou to bear in mind every detail I give you. It is to my interest that theperpetratorofthisterriblecrimeshouldbebroughttojustice——"

Tarling'simpatientgesturearrestedhisplatitudes,butMr.Milburghwasinnowayabashed.

"WhenIgotbacktothemewsIfounditdeserted.Standingoutsidethedoorleadingtothestoreroomsandcellarswasatwo-seatercar.TherewasnobodyinsideorinattendanceandIlookedatitcuriously,notrealisingatthemomentthat itwasMr.ThorntonLyne's.What did interestmewas the fact that thebackgate,whichIhadleftlocked,wasopen.So,too,wasthedoorleadingtowhatIwouldcalltheundergroundroom—itwaslittlebetter—throughwhichonehadtopasstoreachOdette'sflatbythebackway.

"Iopenedthedooroftheflat,"saidMr.Milburghimpressively,"andwalked

in.IhadextinguishedthelightwhenIwent,buttomysurpriseIsawthroughthetransomofOdette'sbedroomthatalightwasburningwithin.Iturnedthehandle,andevenbeforeIsawintotheroom,mynosewasassailedbyasmellofburningpowder.

"Thefirstsightwhichmetmygazewasamanlyingonthefloor.Hewasonhisface,butIturnedhimover,andtomyhorroritwasMr.ThorntonLyne.Hewasunconsciousandbleedingfromawoundinthechest,"saidMr.Milburgh,"andatthemomentIthoughthewasdead.TosaythatIwasshockedwouldbemildlytodescribemyterribleagitation.

"My first thought—and first thoughts are sometimes right—was that he hadbeen shot down by Odette Rider, who for some reason had returned. Theroom,however,wasempty,andacuriouscircumstance,aboutwhichIwilltellyou,wasthatthewindowleadingouttotheareaoftheflatwaswideopen."

"It was protected with heavy bars," said Tarling, "so nobody could haveescapedthatway."

"I examined the wound," Milburgh went on, nodding his agreement withTarling'sdescription,"andknewthatitwasfatal.Idonotthink,however,thatMr.ThorntonLynewasdeadatthistime.Mynextthoughtwastostanchthewound,andIpulledopenthedrawerandtookoutthefirstthingwhichcametomyhand,whichwasanight-dress.IhadtofindapadandemployedtwoofOdette'shandkerchiefsfor thepurpose.Firstofall Istrippedhimofhiscoatandhisvest,a taskofsomedifficulty, thenI fixedhimupasbest Icould. Iknewhiscasewashopeless,andindeedIbelieve,"saidMr.Milburghsoberly,"Ibelievehewasdeadevenbeforethebandagingwascompleted.

"Whilst Iwasdoing something I found itwaspossible to forget the terriblepositioninwhichIwouldfindmyself ifsomebodycameintotheroom.ThemomentIsawthecasewashopeless,andhadasecondtothink,Iwasseizedwith a blind panic. I snatchedmyovercoat from the peg and ran out of theroom; through thebackway into themews,and reachedCamdenTown thatnight,amentalandphysicalwreck."

"Didyouleavethelightsburning?"askedTarling.

Mr.Milburghthoughtforamoment.

"Yes,"hesaid,"Ileftthelightsburning."

"Andyouleftthebodyintheflat?"

"ThatIswear,"repliedMilburgh.

"Andtherevolver—whenyougothomewasitinyourpocket?"

Mr.Milburghshookhishead.

"Whydidyounotnotifythepolice?"

"BecauseIwasafraid,"admittedMr.Milburgh."Iwasscaredtodeath.Itisaterribleconfessiontomake,butIamaphysicalcoward."

"Therewasnobodyintheroom?"persistedTarling.

"NobodysofarasIcouldsee.Itellyouthewindowwasopen.Yousayitisbarred—that is true,butavery thinpersoncouldslipbetween thosebars.Awoman——"

"Impossible," said Tarling shortly. "The bars have been very carefullymeasured,andnothingbiggerthanarabbitcouldget through.Andyouhavenoideawhocarriedthebodyaway?"

"Nonewhatever,"repliedMilburghfirmly.

Tarling had opened his mouth to say something, when a telephone bellshrilled,andhepickeduptheinstrumentfromthetableonwhichitstood.

Itwasastrangevoicethatgreetedhim,avoicehuskyandloud,asthoughitwereunusedtotelephoning.

"Tarlingthename?"shoutedthevoicequickly.

"Thatismyname,"saidTarling.

"She'safriendofyours,ain'tshe?"askedthevoice.

Therewasachuckle.Acoldshiver randownTarling's spine; for, thoughhehadnevermettheman,instincttoldhimthathewasspeakingtoSamStay.

"You'll find her to-morrow," screamed the voice, "what's left of her. Thewomanwholuredhimon...what'sleftofher...."

Therewasaclick,andthereceiverwashungup.

Tarlingwasworkingthetelephonehooklikeamadman.

"What exchange was that?" he asked, and the operator after a momentsuppliedtheinformationthatitwasHampstead.

CHAPTERXXXVIATHIGHGATECEMETERY

Odette Rider sat back in a corner of the smooth-running taxicab. Her eyes

wereclosed,fortheinevitablereactionhadcome.Excitementandanxietyhadcombined togiveher thestrength towalk to thecabwitha firmstepwhichhad surprised the matron; but now, in the darkness and solitude, she wasconsciousofadepression,bothphysicalandmental,whichleftherwithoutthewillorpowerforfurthereffort.

Thecarspedthroughinterminablylongstreets—inwhatdirectionsheneitherknew nor cared. Remember that she did not even know where the nursinghomewassituated.ItmighthavebeenontheedgeofLondonforallshewasaware.Once, thatwas as the carwas crossingBond Street fromCavendishSquare,shesawpeopleturnandlookatthecabandapolicemanpointedandshouted something. She was too preoccupied to worry her head as to thecause.

Sheappreciatedinadim,vaguewaytheskillofthetaxi-driver,whoseemedtobeabletogropehiswaythroughandaroundanyobstructionoftraffic;anditwasnotuntilshefoundthecabtraversingacountryroadthatshehadanysuspicion that all was not well. Even then her doubts were allayed by herrecognitionofcertainlandmarkswhichtoldhershewasontheHertfordRoad.

"Of course," she thought. "I should be wanted at Hertford rather than inLondon,"andshesettledherselfdownagain.

Suddenlythecabstopped,backeddownasidelane,andturnedinthedirectionfromwhencetheyhadcome.Whenhehadgothiscar'sheadright,SamStayshutoffhisengine,descendedfromhisseat,andopenedthedoor.

"Comeonoutofthat!"hesaidsharply.

"Why—what——"began thebewilderedgirl,butbefore shecouldgomuchfartherthemandivedin,grippedherbythewrist,andpulledheroutwithsuchviolencethatshefell.

"Youdon'tknowme,eh?"Thewordswerehisashethrusthisfaceintohers,grippinghershoulderssosavagelythatshecouldhavecriedoutinpain.

Shewasonherknees,strugglingtoget toherfeet,andshelookedupat thelittlemanwonderingly.

"Iknowyou,"shegasped."Youarethemanwhotriedtogetintomyflat!"

Hegrinned.

"And Iknowyou!"he laughedharshly. "You're thedevil that luredhimon!Thebestmanintheworld...he'sinthelittlevaultinHighgateCemetery.Thedoor is just like a church. And that's where you'll be to-night, damn you!Down there I'mgoing to take you.Down, down, down, and leaveyouwithhim,becausehewantedyou!"

Hewasgrippingherbybothwrists,glaringdownintoherface,andtherewassomething so wolfish, so inhuman, in the madman's staring eyes that hermouth went dry, and when she tried to scream no sound came. Then shelurchedforwardtowardshim,andhecaughtherunderthearmsanddraggedhertoherfeet.

"Fainted,eh?You'llfaint,melady,"hechuckled."Don'tyouwishyoumightnevercomeround,eh?I'llbetyouwouldifyouknew...ifyouknew!"

Hedroppedheronthegrassbythesideoftheroad,tookaluggagestrapfromthefrontofthecab,andboundherhands.Thenhepickedupthescarfshehadbeenwearingandtieditaroundhermouth.

Withanextraordinarydisplayofstrengthheliftedherwithouteffortandputherbackintothecorneroftheseat.Thenheslammedthedoor,mountedagainto his place, and sent the car at top speed in the direction ofLondon.Theywereon theoutskirtsofHampsteadwhenhesawasignovera tobacconist'sshop,andstoppedthecaralittlewaybeyond,atthedarkestpartoftheroad.Hegaveaglanceintotheinterior.Thegirlhadslidfromtheseattothefloorandlaymotionless.

Hehurriedbacktothetobacconist'swherethetelephonesignhadbeen.Atthebackofhisfuddledbrainlingeredanideathattherewassomebodywhowouldbehurt.Thatcruellookingdevilwhowascross-examininghimwhenhefellintoafit—Tarling.Yes,thatwasthename,Tarling.

It happened to be a new telephone directory, and by chanceTarling's name,althoughanewsubscriber,hadbeenincluded.Inafewsecondshewastalkingtothedetective.

Hehungup the receiver and cameoutof the little booth, and the shopman,whohadheardhisharsh,loudvoice,lookedathimsuspiciously;butSamStaywas indifferent to the suspicions of men. He half ran, half walked back towherehiscabwasstanding,leapedintotheseat,andagaindrovethemachineforward.

ToHighgateCemetery!Thatwastheidea.Thegateswouldbeclosed,buthecoulddosomething.Perhapshewouldkillherfirstandthengetheroverthewall afterwards. It would be a grand revenge if he could get her into thecemetery alive and thrust her, the living, down amongst the dead, throughthose little doors which opened like church doors to the cold, dank vaultbelow.

Hescreamedandsangwithjoyatthethought,andthosepedestrianswhosawthecabflashpast, rockingfromside toside, turnedat thesoundof thewildsnatchofsong,forSamStaywashappyashehadnotbeenhappyinhislife

before.

ButHighgateCemeterywasclosed.Thegloomyirongatesbarredallentrance,and the walls were high. It was a baffling place, because houses almostentirelysurroundedit;andhewashalfanhourseekingasuitablespotbeforehe finallypulledupbeforeaplacewhere thewalldidnot seemsodifficult.Therewasnobodyaboutandlittlefearofinterruptiononthepartofthegirl.Hehadlookedintothecabandhadseennothingsaveahuddledfigureonthefloor.Soshewasstillunconscious,hethought.

He ran the car on to the sidewalk, then slippeddown into thenarrow spacebetweencarandwallandjerkedopenthedoor.

"Come on!" he cried exultantly. He reached out his fingers—and thensomething shot from the car, something lithe and supple, something thatgrippedthelittlemanbythethroatandhurledhimbackagainstthewall.

Staystruggledwiththestrengthoflunacy,butLingChuheldhiminagripofsteel.

CHAPTERXXXVIILINGCHURETURNS

Tarlingdroppedthetelephonereceiveronitshookandhadsunkintoachairwithagroan.Hisfacewaswhite—whiterthantheprisoner'swhosatoppositehim,andheseemedtohavegoneoldallofasudden.

"Whatisit?"askedWhitesidequietly."Whowastheman?"

"Stay,"saidTarling."Stay.HehasOdette!It'sawful,awful!"

Whiteside, thoughtful, preoccupied; Milburgh, his face twitching with fear,watchedthescenecuriously.

"I'mbeaten,"saidTarling—andatthatmomentthetelephonebellrangagain.

Heliftedthereceiverandbentoverthetable,andWhitesidesawhiseyesopeninwideamazement.ItwasOdette'svoicethatgreetedhim.

"ItisI,Odette!"

"Odette!Areyousafe?ThankGodforthat!"healmostshouted."ThankGodforthat!Whereareyou?"

"I am at a tobacconist's shop in——" there was a pause while she wasevidently asking somebody the name of the street, and presently she came

backwiththeinformation.

"But, this is wonderful!" said Tarling. "I'll be with you immediately.Whiteside,getacab,willyou?Howdidyougetaway?"

"It's rather a long story," she said. "Your Chinese friend saved me. Thatdreadfulmanstoppedthecabnearatobacconist'sshoptotelephone.LingChuappearedbymagic.Ithinkhemusthavebeenlyingontopofthecab,becauseIheardhimcomedownbytheside.Hehelpedmeoutandstoodmeinadarkdoorway,takingmyplace.Pleasedon'taskmeanymore.Iamsotired."

HalfanhourlaterTarlingwaswiththegirlandheardthestoryoftheoutrage.OdetteRiderhad recovered somethingofher calm,andbefore thedetectivehad returned her to the nursing home she had told him the story of heradventure.

"Imusthavefainted,"shesaid."WhenIwokeupIwaslyingatthebottomofthecab,whichwasmovingatatremendousrate.Ithoughtofgettingbacktothe seat, but it occurred tome that if I pretended tobe faint Imighthave achance of escape. When I heard the cab stop I tried to rise, but I hadn'tsufficient strength. But helpwas near. I heard the scraping of shoes on theleathertopofthecar,andpresentlythedooropenedandIsawafigurewhichIknew was not the cabman's. He lifted me out, and fortunately the cab hadstoppedoppositeaprivatehousewithabigporch,andtothisheledme.

"'Wait,'hesaid.'Thereisaplacewhereyoumaytelephonealittlewayalong.Waittillwehavegone."

"Thenhewentbacktothecab,closedthedoornoiselessly,andimmediatelyafterwards I sawStay running along thepath. In a few seconds the cabhaddisappearedandIdraggedmyselftotheshop—andthat'sall."

No news had been received of Ling Chuwhen Tarling returned to his flat.Whitesidewaswaiting;and toldhim thathehadputMilburgh into thecellsandthathewouldbechargedthefollowingday.

"I can't understandwhat has happened to Ling Chu.He should be back bynow,"saidTarling.

Itwashalf-pastoneinthemorning,andatelephoneinquirytoScotlandYardhadproducednoinformation.

"It is possible, of course," Tarling went on, "that Stay took the cab on toHertford.Themanhasdevelopedintoadangerouslunatic."

"All criminals are more or less mad," said the philosophical Whiteside. "Iwonderwhatturnedthisfellow'sbrain."

"Love!"saidTarling.

Theotherlookedathiminsurprise.

"Love?"herepeatedincredulously,andTarling:nodded.

"Undoubtedly Sam Stay adored Lyne. It was the shock of his death whichdrovehimmad."

Whitesidedrummedhisfingersonthetable,thoughtfully.

"WhatdoyouthinkofMilburgh'sstory?"heasked,andTarlingshruggedhisshoulders.

"Itismostdifficulttoformajudgment,"hesaid."Themanspokeasthoughheweretellingthetruth,andsomethingwithinmeconvincesmethathewasnotlying.Andyetthewholethingisincredible."

"Ofcourse,Milburghhashad time tomakeupaprettygoodstory,"warnedWhiteside."Heisafairlyshrewdman,thisMilburgh,anditwashardlylikelythathewouldtellusayarnwhichwasbeyondtherangeofbelief."

"Thatistrue,"agreedtheother,"nevertheless,Iamsatisfiedhetoldalmostthewholeofthetruth."

"Then,whokilledThorntonLyne?"

Tarlingrosewithagestureofdespair.

"YouareapparentlyasfarfromthesolutionofthatmysteryasIam,andyetIhaveformedatheorywhichmaysoundfantastic——"

TherewasalightstepuponthestairandTarlingcrossedtheroomandopenedthedoor.

Ling Chu came in, his calm, inscrutable self, and but for the fact that hisforeheadandhis righthandwereheavilybandaged,carryingnoevidenceofhistragicexperience.

"Hello,LingChu,"saidTarlinginEnglish,"you'rehurt?"

"Not badly," saidLingChu. "Will themaster be good enough to giveme acigarette?Ilostallmineinthestruggle."

"WhereisSamStay?"

LingChulitthecigarettebeforeheanswered,blewoutthematchandplaceditcarefullyintheash-trayonthecentreofthetable.

"ThemanissleepingontheTerraceofNight,"saidLingChusimply.

"Dead?"saidthestartledTarling.

TheChinamannodded.

"Didyoukillhim?"

AgainLingChupausedandpuffedacloudofcigarettesmokeintotheair.

"Hewasdyingformanydays,sothedoctoratthebighospitaltoldme.Ihithisheadonceortwice,butnotveryhard.Hecutmealittlewithaknife,butitwasnothing."

"Sam Stay is dead, eh?" said Tarling thoughtfully. "Well, that removes asourceofdangertoMissRider,LingChu."

TheChinamansmiled.

"It removes many things, master, because before this man died, his headbecamegood."

"Youmeanhewassane?"

"Hewassane,master,"saidLingChu,"andhewishedtospeaktopaper.Sothebigdoctoratthehospitalsentforajudge,oronewhositsinjudgment."

"Amagistrate?"

"Yes,amagistrate,"saidLingChu,nodding,"alittleoldmanwholivesverynear the hospital, andhe came, complainingbecause itwas so late an hour.Alsotherecameamanwhowroteveryrapidlyinabook,andwhenthemanhaddied, hewrotemore rapidlyon amachine andgaveme thesepapers tobringtoyou,detainingothersforhimselfandforthejudgewhospoketotheman."

He fumbled in his blouse and brought out a roll of paper covered withtypewriting.

Tarlingtookthedocumentsandsawthatitconsistedofseveralpages.ThenhelookedupatLingChu.

"Firsttellme,LingChu,"hesaid,"whathappened?Youmaysit."

Ling Chu with a jerky little bow pulled a chair from the wall and sat at arespectfuldistancefromthe table,andTarling,noting therapidconsumptionofhiscigarette,passedhimthebox.

"Youmust know,master, that against yourwish and knowledge, I took thelarge-facedmanandputhimtothequestion.Thesethingsarenotdoneinthiscountry, but I thought it best that the truth should be told. Therefore, Ipreparedtogivehimthetorturewhenhetoldmethatthesmall-smallgirlwasindanger.SoI lefthim,not thinkingthatyourexcellencywouldreturnuntilthemorning,andIwenttothebighousewherethesmall-smallgirlwaskept,

andasIcametothecornerofthestreetIsawhergetintoaquick-quickcar.

"ItwasmovingofflongbeforeIcametoit,andIhadtorun;itwasveryfast.But Iheldonbehind,andpresentlywhen it stoppedat this street tocross, Iscrambledupthebackandlayflatuponthetopofthecab.Ithinkpeoplesawmedothisandshoutedtothedriver,buthedidnothear.ThusIlayforalongtimeandthecardroveoutintothecountryandafterawhilecameback,butbefore it cameback it stoppedand I saw theman talking to the small-smallwomaninangrytones.IthoughthewasgoingtohurtherandIwaitedreadytojumpuponhim,buttheladywentintotherealmsofsleepandheliftedherbackintothecar.

"Then he came back to the town and again he stopped to go into a shop. Ithinkitwastotelephone,fortherewasoneofthosebluesignswhichyoucanseeoutsideashopwherethetelephonemaybeusedbythecommonpeople.WhilsthehadgoneinIgotdownandliftedthesmall-smallwomanout,takingthestrapsfromherhandsandplacingherinadoorway.ThenItookherplace.Wedroveforalongtimetillhestoppedbyahighwall,andthen,master,therewasafight,"saidLingChusimply.

"IttookmealongtimetoovercomehimandthenIhadtocarryhim.Wecameto a policemanwho took us in another car to a hospitalwheremywoundswere dressed. Then they came to me and told me the man was dying andwishedtoseesomebodybecausehehadthatinhisheartforwhichhedesiredease.

"Sohetalked,master,andthemanwroteforanhour,andthenhepassedtohisfathers,thatlittlewhite-facedman."

Hefinishedabruptlyaswashiscustom.Tarlingtookthepapersupandopenedthem,glancedthroughpageafterpage,Whitesidesittingpatientlybywithoutinterrupting.

WhenTarlinghadfinishedthedocuments,helookedacrossthetable.

"ThorntonLynewaskilledbySamStay,"hesaid,andWhitesidestaredathim.

"But——"hebegan.

"I have suspected it for some time, but there were one or two links in theevidencewhichweremissingandwhichIwasunabletosupply.LetmereadyouthestatementofSamStay."

CHAPTERTHELASTTHESTATEMENTOFSAMSTAY

"MynameisSamStay. IwasbornatMaidstone in theCountyofKent.Myageis twenty-nineyears.I leftschoolat theageofelevenandgotmixedupwithabadset,andat theageof thirteenIwasconvictedforstealingfromashop,andwassenttoBorstalInstituteforfouryears.

"OnmyreleasefromBorstalIwenttoLondon,andayearlaterwasconvictedofhouse-breaking,receivingasentenceoftwelvemonths'imprisonmentwithhardlabour.OnmyreleasefromprisonIwastakenupbyasocietywhotaughtmemotor-driving,andIsecuredalicenceinanothernameasataxicabdriverandfortwelvemonthsdroveacabonthestreets.AttheendofthatperiodIwas convicted for stealing passengers' baggage and was sent to prison foreighteenmonths.

"Itwasaftermy release from this termof imprisonment that I firstmetMr.ThorntonLyne.Imethiminthefollowingmanner.IhadbeengivenaletterfromthePrisoners'AidSocietyandwenttoMr.ThorntonLynetogeta job.HetookagreatinterestinmeandfromtheveryfirstwasthebestfriendIhadeverhad.HiskindnesswaswonderfulandIthinkthereneverwasamanintheworldwithsuchabeautifulnatureashis.

"He assistedmemany times, and although I went back to prison, he neverdesertedme,but helpedmeas a friend andwasneverdisgustedwhen I gotintotrouble.

"IwasreleasedfromgaolinthespringofthisyearandwasmetattheprisongatesbyMr.ThorntonLyneinabeautifulmotor-car.HetreatedmeasthoughIwereaprinceandtookmehometohisgrandhouseandgavemefoodandbeautifulwine.

"Hetoldmethathehadbeenverymuchupsetbyayoungladywhomhehadlookedafter.Thisyoungladyworkedforhimandhehadgivenherworkwhenshewasstarving.Hesaidthatshehadbeenspreadingliesabouthimandthatshe was a bad girl. I had never seen this person, whose name was OdetteRider,butIfeltfullofhatredtowardsher,andthemorehespokeaboutthegirlthemoredeterminedIwastohaverevengeonher.

"Whenhetoldmethatshewasverybeautiful,Irememberedinthesamegangasme atWandsworthGaol there hadbeen amannamedSelser.That is thename as far as I can remember.Hewas serving a lagging [a term of penalservitude]forthrowingvitriolinthefaceofhisgirl.Shehadlethimdownandhad married another man while he was serving a term of imprisonment. Ibelieveshewasverybeautiful.WhenSelsergotouthe laidwaitforherandthrewvitriolinherface,andhehasoftentoldmethathedidn'tregretit.

"SothatwhenMr.Lynetoldmethatthegirlwasbeautiful,thisideastruckme

thatIwouldhaverevengeuponher.IwaslivinginLambethatthehouseofanoldlag,whopracticallytooknobodybutcrooksaslodgers.Itcostmorethanordinarylodgingbutitwasworthit,becauseifthepolicemadeanyinquiriesthelandlordorhiswifewouldalwaysgivewronginformation.Iwenttothisplacebecause I intendedcommittingaburglaryatMuswellHillwithamanwhowasreleasedfromgaoltwoorthreedaysbeforeme,whoknewthecribandaskedme,whenwewereatworkoneday,ifIwouldgoinwithhimonthejob.Ithoughttheremightbeachanceofgettingawaywiththestuff,ifIcouldgetsomebodytoswearthatIhadn'tleftthehousethatnight.

"ItoldthelandlordIhadajobonthe14thandgavehim£1.IsawMr.Lyneonthe 14th at his house and put the idea up to him. I showed him the vitriolwhichIhadboughtintheWaterlooRoadandhesaidhewouldnothearofmydoingit.Ithoughtheonlysaidthatbecausehedidnotwanttobemixedupinthecase.Heaskedmetoleavethegirltohimandhewouldsettlewithher.

"Ilefthishouseaboutnineo'clockatnight,tellinghimIwasgoingbacktomylodgings.But really Iwent to theblockof flats in theEdgwareRoadwherethisgirlRiderlived.IknewtheflatbecauseIhadbeentherethenightbeforeatMr.Lyne'ssuggestiontoplantsomejewellerywhichhadbeentakenfromthestore.Hisideawasthathewouldpinchherfortheft.Ihadnotbeenabletogetintothehouse,owingtothepresencethereofadetectivenamedTarling,butIhadhadaverygoodlookroundandIknewthewayin,withoutcomingthroughthefrontdoor,whereaporterwasalwaysonduty.

"Ihadnodifficultyeitheringettingintothebuildingorintotheflat.IthoughtitbesttogoinearlybecausethegirlmightbeoutatthetheatreandIshouldhaveachanceofconcealingmyselfbeforeherreturn.WhenIgotintotheflatIfounditwasindarkness.Thissuitedmypurposeverywell.Iwentfromoneroomtoanother.At last Icame to thebedroom.Imadean inspectionof theroom,lookingaboutforalikelyplacewhereIcouldhide.

"At the foot of the bed was an alcove covered by a curtain where severaldressesandadressing-gownwerehanging,andIfoundthatIcouldeasilygetin therebehind the clothes andnobodywouldbe thewiser.Therewere twoclothes-hooksprojectingoutside thecurtain just inside thealcove. Imentionthesebecauseofsomethingwhichhappenedlater.

"WhilstIwaspryingaroundIheardakeyturninthelockandswitchedoffthelights.IhadjusttimetogetintothealcovewhenthedooropenedandamannamedMilburghappeared.Heturnedonthelightsashecameintotheroomand shut the door after him. He looked around as though he was thinkingaboutsomethingandthen,takingoffhiscoat,hehungitononeofthehooksnearthealcove.Iheldmybreathfearingthathewouldlookinside,buthedidnot.

"He walked about the room as though he was looking for something, andagainIwasafraidthatIshouldbediscoveredafterall,butbyandbyhewentoutandcamebackwithasmallsuit-case.ItwasafterhehadgonethatIsawpokingoutofthepocketoftheovercoatwhichhadbeenhungonthehook,thebuttofapistol.Ididn'tquiteknowwhattomakeofit,butthinkingthatitwasbetterinmypocketthaninhisifIwerediscovered,Ilifteditoutofthepocketandslippeditintomyown.

"AfterawhilehecamebackasIsayandstartedpackingthebagonthebed.Presentlyhelookedathiswatchandsaidsomethingtohimself,turnedoutthelightsandhurriedout.Iwaitedandwaitedforhimtocomebackbutnothinghappened, and knowing that I would have plenty of time if he came backagain,IhadalookatthepistolIhad.Itwasanautomaticanditwasloaded.Ihadneverworkedwithaguninmylife,butIthoughtImightaswelltakethisasIintendedcommittingacrimewhichmightlandmeinjugforthetermofmynaturallife.IthoughtImightaswellbehungasgotopenalservitude.

"Then I put out the lights and sat down by the window, waiting for MissRider'sreturn.Ilitacigarette,andopenedthewindowtoletoutthesmellofthesmoke.Itookoutthebottleofvitriol,removedthecorkandplaceditonastoolnearby.

"Idon'tknowhowlongIwaitedinthedark,butabouteleveno'clock,asfarasIcanjudge,Iheardtheouterdoorclickverygentlyandasoftfootinthehall.Iknewitwasn'tMilburghbecausehewasaheavyman.Thispersonmovedlikeacat.Infact,Ididnothearthedoorofthebedroomopen.Iwaitedwiththevitriolonthestoolbymyside,forthelighttobeswitchedon,butnothinghappened.Idon'tknowwhatmademedoitbutIwalkedtowardsthepersonwhohadcomeintotheroom.

"Then,before Iknewwhathadhappened, somebodyhadgrippedme. Iwashalf-strangledbyanarmwhichhadbeenthrownroundmyneckandIthoughtit wasMilburghwho had detectedme the first time and had come back topinchme.Itriedtopushhimaway,buthestruckmeonthejaw.

"IwasgettingfrightenedforI thought thenoisewouldrouse thepeopleandthepolicewouldcome,andImusthavelostmyhead.BeforeIknewwhathadhappenedIhadpulledthegunoutofmypocketandfiredpoint-blank.Iheardasoundlikeathudofthebodyfalling.Thepistolwasstillinmyhand,andmyfirstactwastogetridofit.Ifeltabasketbymylegsinthedarkness.ItwasfullofcottonandwoolandstuffandIpushedthepistoldowntothebottomandthengropedacrosstheroomandswitchedonthelights.

"AsIdidso,Iheardthekeyturnin thelockagain.Igaveoneglanceat thebodywhichhadfallenonitsfaceandthenIdivedforthealcove.

"ThemanwhocameinwasMilburgh.Hisbackwastome.AsheturnedthebodyoverIcouldnotseeitsface.IsawhimtakesomethingoutofthedrawerandbinditroundthechestandIsawhimstripoffthecoatandvest,butnotuntilhehadgoneoutandIcamefromtherecess,didIrealisethatthemanIhadkilledwasdearMr.Lyne.

"IthinkImusthavegoneravingmadwithgrief.Idon'tknowwhatIdid.AllIthoughtofwasthattheremustbesomechanceandhewasn'tdeadatallandhemustbegotawaytoahospital.Wehaddiscussedtheplanofgoingintotheflatandhehadtoldmehowhewouldbringhiscartotheback.Irushedoutofthe flat,going through thebackway.Sureenough therewas thecarwaitingandnobodywasabout.

"Icamebacktothebedroomandliftedhiminmyarmsandcarriedhimbacktothecar,proppinghimupintheseat.ThenIwentbackandgothiscoatandvestandthrewthemontotheseatbyhim.IfoundhisbootswerealsointhecarandthenforthefirsttimeInoticedthathehadslippersonhisfeet.

"Ihavebeenataxi-driversoIknowhowtohandleacarandinafewminutesIwasgoingalongtheEdgwareRoad,onmywaytoSt.George'sHospital. IturnedinthroughtheparkbecauseIdidn'twantpeopletoseeme,anditwaswhenIhadgot intoapartwherenobodywasabout thatIstoppedthecar tohaveanotherlookathim.Irealisedthathewasquitedead.

"Isatinthatcarwithhimforthebestpartoftwohours,cryingasIneverhavecried,thenafterawhileIrousedmyselfandcarriedhimoutandlaidhimonthesidewalk,somedistancefromthecar.Ihadenoughsensetoknowthatifhewere found dead inmy company itwould go very badlywithme, but IhatedleavinghimandafterIhadfoldedhisarmsIsatbyhimforanotherhourortwo.

"Heseemedsocoldandlonelythatitmademyheartbleedtoleavehimatall.IntheearlylightofmorningIsawabedofdaffodilsgrowingclosebyandIpluckedafewandlaidthemonhisbreastbecauseIlovedhim."

Tarlingfinishedreadingandlookedathisassistant.

"That is the end of the Daffodil Mystery," he said. "A fairly simpleexplanation,Whiteside.Incidentally,itacquitsourfriendMilburgh,wholookslikeescapingconvictionaltogether."

Aweek later twopeoplewerewalking slowly along the downsoverlookingthesea.Theyhadwalkedforamileincompletesilence,thensuddenlyOdetteRidersaid:

"Igetveryeasilytired.Letussitdown."

Tarlingobedientlysunkdownbyherside.

"Ireadinthenewspapersthismorning,Mr.Tarling,"shesaid,"thatyouhavesoldLyne'sStore."

"That'strue,"saidTarling."ThereareverymanyreasonswhyIdonotwanttogointothebusiness,orstayinLondon."

Shedidnotlookathim,butplayedwiththebladesofgrassshehadplucked.

"Areyougoingabroad?"sheasked.

"Weare,"saidTarling.

"We?"shelookedathiminsurprise."Whoarewe?"

"IamreferringtomyselfandagirltowhomImadeviolentloveatHertford,"saidTarling,andshedroppedhereyes.

"Ithinkyouweresorryforme,"shesaid,"andyouwereratherledintoyourwilddeclarationof—of——"

"Love?"suggestedTarling.

"That's theword," she repliedwitha little smile. "Youwere led tosaywhatyoudidbecauseofmyhopelessplight."

"IwasledtosaywhatIdid,"saidTarling,"becauseIlovedyou."

"Whereareyou—we—going?"sheaskedawkwardly.

"ToSouthAmerica,"saidTarling,"forafewmonths.Thenafterwardstomywell-belovedChinaforthecoolseason."

"WhytoSouthAmerica?"askedthegirl.

"Because," said Tarling, "I was reading an article on horticulture in thismorning'spapersandIlearntthatdaffodilsdonotgrowintheArgentine."

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