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AN OFFER REJECTED
AN OFFER REJECTED
"I am afraid I don't understand you, Mr. Lyne." Odette Rider looked gravely at the young man who lolled against his open desk. Her clear skin was tinted with the faintest pink, and there was in the sober depths of those grey eyes of hers a light which would have warned a man less satisfied with his own genius and power of persuasion than Thornton Lyne. He was not looking at her face. His eyes were running approvingly over her perfect figure, noting the straightness of the back, the fine poise of
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THE HUNTER DECLINES HIS QUARRY
THE HUNTER DECLINES HIS QUARRY
"This is Mr. Milburgh," said Lyne awkwardly. If Mr. Milburgh had heard the last words of his employer, his face did not betray the fact. His smile was set, and not only curved the lips but filled the large, lustreless eyes. Tarling gave him a rapid survey and drew his own conclusions. The man was a born lackey, plump of face, bald of head, and bent of shoulder, as though he lived in a perpetual gesture of abasement. "Shut the door, Milburgh, and sit down. This is Mr. Tarling. Er—Mr. Tarling is—e
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THE MAN WHO LOVED LYNE
THE MAN WHO LOVED LYNE
Two days later Thornton Lyne sat in his big limousine which was drawn up on the edge of Wandsworth Common, facing the gates of the gaol. Poet and poseur he was, the strangest combination ever seen in man. Thornton Lyne was a store-keeper, a Bachelor of Arts, the winner of the Mangate Science Prize and the author of a slim volume. The quality of the poetry therein was not very great—but it was undoubtedly a slim volume printed in queerly ornate type with old-fashioned esses and wide margins. He w
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MURDER
MURDER
Jack Tarling lay stretched upon his hard bed, a long cigarette-holder between his teeth, a book on Chinese metaphysics balanced on his chest, at peace with the world. The hour was eight o'clock, and it was the day that Sam Stay had been released from gaol. It had been a busy day for Tarling, for he was engaged in a bank fraud case which would have occupied the whole of his time had he not had a little private business to attend to. This private matter was wholly unprofitable, but his curiosity h
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FOUND IN LYNE'S POCKET
FOUND IN LYNE'S POCKET
"The London police are confronted with a new mystery, which has features so remarkable, that it would not be an exaggeration to describe this crime as the Murder Mystery of the Century. A well-known figure in London Society, Mr. Thornton Lyne, head of an important commercial organisation, a poet of no mean quality, and a millionaire renowned for his philanthropic activities, was found dead in Hyde Park in the early hours of this morning, in circumstances which admit of no doubt that he was most
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THE MOTHER OF ODETTE RIDER
THE MOTHER OF ODETTE RIDER
The two men looked at one another in silence. "Well?" said the Commissioner at last. Tarling shook his head. "That's amazing," he said, and looked at the little slip of paper between his finger and thumb. "You see why I am bringing you in," said the Commissioner. "If there is a Chinese end to this crime, nobody knows better than you how to deal with it. I have had this slip translated. It means 'He brought this trouble upon himself.'" "Literally, 'self look for trouble,'" said Tarling. "But ther
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THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
"May I keep this telegram?" asked Tarling. The woman nodded. He saw that she was nervous, ill at ease and worried. "I can't quite understand why Odette should not come," she said. "Is there any particular reason?" "That I can't say," said Tarling. "But please don't let it worry you, Mrs. Rider. She probably changed her mind at the last moment and is staying with friends in town." "Then you haven't seen her?" asked Mrs. Rider anxiously. "I haven't seen her for several days." "Is anything wrong?"
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THE SILENCING OF SAM STAY
THE SILENCING OF SAM STAY
There was a criminal in London who was watched day and night. It was no new experience to Sam Stay to find an unconcerned-looking detective strolling along behind him; but for the first time in his life the burglar was neither disconcerted nor embarrassed by these attentions. The death of Thornton Lyne had been the most tragic blow which had ever overtaken him. And if they had arrested him he would have been indifferent. For this hang-dog criminal, with the long, melancholy face, lined and seame
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WHERE THE FLOWERS CAME FROM
WHERE THE FLOWERS CAME FROM
Where was Odette Rider? That was a problem which had to be solved. She had disappeared as though the earth had opened and swallowed her up. Every police station in the country had been warned; all outgoing ships were being watched; tactful inquiries had been made in every direction where it was likely she might be found; and the house at Hertford was under observation day and night. Tarling had procured an adjournment of the inquest; for, whatever might be his sentiments towards Odette Rider, he
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THE WOMAN AT ASHFORD
THE WOMAN AT ASHFORD
Tarling went back to his lodgings that afternoon, a puzzled and baffled man. Ling Chu, his impassive Chinese servant, had observed those symptoms of perplexity before, but now there was something new in his master's demeanour—a kind of curt irritation, an anxiety which in the Hunter of Men had not been observed before. The Chinaman went silently about the business of preparing his chief's tea and made no reference to the tragedy or to any of its details. He had set the table by the side of the b
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"THORNTON LYNE IS DEAD."
"THORNTON LYNE IS DEAD."
For a time neither spoke. Tarling walked slowly forward, pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, never once taking his eyes off the girl. Odette Rider! The woman for whom the police of England were searching, against whom a warrant had been issued on a charge of wilful murder—and here, in a little country hospital. For a moment, and a moment only, Tarling was in doubt. Had he been standing outside the case and watching it as a disinterested spectator, or had this girl never come so c
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THE HOSPITAL BOOK
THE HOSPITAL BOOK
While the nurse was attending to the girl Tarling sought an interview with the medical officer in charge of the hospital. "I don't think there's a great deal the matter with her," said the doctor. "In fact, she was fit for discharge from hospital two or three days ago, and it was only at her request that we let her stay. Do I understand that she is wanted in connection with the Daffodil Murder?" "As a witness," said Tarling glibly. He realised that he was saying a ridiculous thing, because the f
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TWO SHOTS IN THE NIGHT
TWO SHOTS IN THE NIGHT
The journey back to London was one the details of which were registered with photographic realism in Tarling's mind for the rest of his life. The girl spoke little, and he himself was content to meditate and turn over in his mind the puzzling circumstances which had surrounded Odette Rider's flight. In the very silences which occurred between the interchanges of conversation was a comradeship and a sympathetic understanding which both the man and the girl would have found it difficult to define.
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THE SEARCH OF MILBURGH'S COTTAGE
THE SEARCH OF MILBURGH'S COTTAGE
Mr. Milburgh had a little house in one of the industrial streets of Camden Town. It was a street made up for the most part of blank walls, pierced at intervals with great gates, through which one could procure at times a view of gaunt factories and smoky-looking chimney-stacks. Mr. Milburgh's house was the only residence in the road, if one excepted the quarters of caretakers and managers, and it was agreed by all who saw his tiny demesne, that Mr. Milburgh had a good landlord. The "house" was a
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THE OWNER OF THE PISTOL
THE OWNER OF THE PISTOL
All trace of the fog of the night before had disappeared when Tarling looked out from his bedroom window later that morning. The streets were flooded with yellow sunshine, and there was a tang in the air which brought the colour to the cheek and light to the eye of the patient Londoner. Tarling stretched his arms and yawned in the sheer luxury of living, before he took down his silk dressing-gown and went in to the breakfast which Ling Chu had laid for him. The blue-bloused Chinaman who stood be
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THE HEIR
THE HEIR
" Your pistol?" said Whiteside incredulously, "my dear good chap, you are mad! How could it be your pistol?" "It is nevertheless my pistol," said Tarling quietly. "I recognised it the moment I saw it on your desk, and thought there must be some mistake. These furrows prove that there is no mistake at all. It has been one of my most faithful friends, and I carried it with me in China for six years." Whiteside gasped. "And you mean to tell me," he demanded, "that Thornton Lyne was killed with your
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THE MISSING REVOLVER
THE MISSING REVOLVER
Tarling walked out of Scotland Yard on to the sunlit Embankment, trouble in his face. He told himself that the case was getting beyond him and that it was only the case and its development which worried him. The queer little look which had dawned on the Commissioner's face when he learnt that the heir to the murdered Thornton Lyne's fortune was the detective who was investigating his murder, and that Tarling's revolver had been found in the room where the murder had been committed, aroused nothi
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THE FINGER PRINTS
THE FINGER PRINTS
Tarling, his hands thrust into his pockets, his chin dropped, his shoulders bent, slowly walked the broad pavement of the Edgware Road on his way from the girl's hotel to his flat. He dismissed with good reason the not unimportant fact that he himself was suspect. He, a comparatively unknown detective from Shanghai was by reason of his relationship to Thornton Lyne, and even more so because his own revolver had been found on the scene of the tragedy, the object of some suspicion on the part of t
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LING CHU TELLS THE TRUTH
LING CHU TELLS THE TRUTH
The firm of Dashwood and Solomon occupied a narrow-fronted building in the heart of the City of London. Its reputation stood as high as any, and it numbered amongst its clients the best houses in Britain. Both partners had been knighted, and it was Sir Felix Solomon who received Tarling in his private office. Sir Felix was a tall, good-looking man, well past middle age, rather brusque of manner but kindly withal, and he looked up over his glasses as the detective entered. "Scotland Yard, eh?" he
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MR. MILBURGH SEES IT THROUGH
MR. MILBURGH SEES IT THROUGH
Ling Chu's story was not difficult to believe. It was less difficult to believe that he was lying. There is no inventor in the world so clever, so circumstantial, so exact as to detail, as the Chinaman. He is a born teller of stories and piecer together of circumstances that fit so closely that it is difficult to see the joints. Yet the man had been frank, straightforward, patently honest. He had even placed himself in Tarling's power by his confession of his murderous intention. Tarling could r
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COVERING THE TRAIL
COVERING THE TRAIL
Tarling had a brief interview with his assistant Whiteside, and the Inspector, to his surprise, accepted his view of Ling Chu's confession. "I always thought Milburgh was a pretty cool customer," Whiteside said thoughtfully. "But he has more gall than I gave him credit for. I would certainly prefer to believe your Chink than I would believe Milburgh. And, by the way, your young lady has slipped the shadow." "What are you talking about?" asked Tarling in surprise. "I am referring to your Miss Ode
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THE HEAVY WALLET
THE HEAVY WALLET
All that remained of the once stately, if restricted, premises of Messrs. Dashwood and Solomon was a gaunt-looking front wall, blackened by the fire. Tarling interviewed the Chief of the Fire Brigade. "It'll be days before we can get inside," said that worthy, "and I very much doubt if there's anything left intact. The whole of the building has been burnt out—you can see for yourself the roof has gone in—and there's very little chance of recovering anything of an inflammable nature unless it hap
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THE NIGHT VISITOR
THE NIGHT VISITOR
Tarling was less in a dilemma than in that condition of uncertainty which is produced by having no definite plans one way or the other. There was no immediate necessity for his return to town and his annoyance at finding the last train gone was due rather to a natural desire to sleep in his own bed, than to any other cause. He might have got a car from a local garage, and motored to London, if there had been any particular urgency, but, he told himself, he might as well spend the night in Hertfo
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THE CONFESSION OF ODETTE RIDER
THE CONFESSION OF ODETTE RIDER
He could only gaze in stupified silence. "You!" he said wonderingly. The girl was pale and her eyes never left his face. She nodded. "Yes, it is I," she said in a low voice. "You!" he said again and walked towards her. He held out his hand and she gave him the wallet without a word. "Sit down," he said kindly. He thought she was going to faint. "I hope I didn't hurt you? I hadn't the slightest idea——" She shook her head. "Oh, I'm not hurt," she said wearily, "not hurt in the way you mean." She d
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MILBURGH'S LAST BLUFF
MILBURGH'S LAST BLUFF
Milburgh had gone too far. He had hoped to carry through this scene without the actual disclosure of the confession. In his shrewd, clever way he had realised before Tarling himself, that the detective from Shanghai, this heir to the Lyne millions, had fallen under the spell of the girl's beauty, and all his conjectures had been confirmed by the scene he had witnessed, no less than by the conversation he had overheard before the door was opened. He was seeking immunity and safety. The man was in
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IN MRS. RIDER'S ROOM
IN MRS. RIDER'S ROOM
There was a deep silence. Tarling could feel his heart thumping almost noisily. "After I had left Lyne's Store," she said, "I had decided to go to mother to spend two or three days with her before I began looking for work. Mr. Milburgh only went to Hertford for the weekends, and I couldn't stay in the same house with him, knowing all that I knew. "I left my flat at about half-past six that evening, but I am not quite sure of the exact time. It must have been somewhere near then, because I was go
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THE LAUGH IN THE NIGHT
THE LAUGH IN THE NIGHT
Tarling gave one glance before he turned to the girl, who was endeavouring to push past him, and catching her by the arm gently thrust her back into the passage. "What is wrong? What is wrong?" she asked in a terrified whisper. "Oh, let me go to mother." She struggled to escape from his grip, but he held her firmly. "You must be brave, for your own sake—for everybody's sake," he entreated her. Still holding her arm, he forced her to the door of the second inner room. His hand felt for the electr
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THE THUMB-PRINT
THE THUMB-PRINT
It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Whiteside and Tarling were sitting on a sofa in their shirt-sleeves, sipping their coffee. Tarling was haggard and weary, in contrast to the dapper inspector of police. Though the latter had been aroused from his bed in the early hours of the morning, he at least had enjoyed a good night's sleep. They sat in the room in which Mrs. Rider had been murdered, and the rusty brown stains on the floor where Tarling had found her were eloquent of the tragedy. They
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THE THEORY OF LING CHU
THE THEORY OF LING CHU
Upon this scene came Ling Chu, imperturbable, expressionless, bringing with him his own atmosphere of mystery. "Well," said Tarling, "what have you discovered?" and even Whiteside checked his enthusiasm to listen. "Two people came up the stairs last night," said Ling Chu, "also the master." He looked at Tarling, and the latter nodded. "Your feet are clear," he said; "also the feet of the small-piece woman; also the naked feet." "The naked feet?" said Tarling, and Ling Chu assented. "What was the
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WHO KILLED MRS. RIDER?
WHO KILLED MRS. RIDER?
The matron of the nursing home received Tarling. Odette, she said, had regained her normal calm, but would require a few days' rest. She suggested she should be sent to the country. "I hope you're not going to ask her a lot of questions, Mr. Tarling," said the matron, "because she really isn't fit to stand any further strain." "There's only one question I'm going to ask," said Tarling grimly. He found the girl in a prettily-furnished room, and she held out her hand to him in greeting. He stooped
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SAM STAY TURNS UP
SAM STAY TURNS UP
"I have seen you somewhere before, ain't I?" The stout clergyman in the immaculate white collar beamed benevolently at the questioner and shook his head with a gentle smile. "No, my dear friend, I do not think I have ever seen you before." It was a little man, shabbily dressed, and looking ill. His face was drawn and lined; he had not shaved for days, and the thin, black stubble of hair gave him a sinister look. The clergyman had just walked out of Temple Gardens and was at the end of Villiers S
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THE DIARY OF THORNTON LYNE
THE DIARY OF THORNTON LYNE
Tarling should have been sleeping. Every bone and sinew in him ached for rest. His head was sunk over a table in his flat. Lyne's diaries stood in two piles on the table, the bigger pile that which he had read, the lesser being those which Tarling had yet to examine. The diaries had been blank books containing no printed date lines. In some cases one book would cover a period of two or three years, in other cases three or four books would be taken up by the record of a few months. The pile on th
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LING CHU—TORTURER
LING CHU—TORTURER
Much had happened to Mr. Milburgh between the time of his discovery lying bound and helpless and showing evidence that he had been in the hands of a Chinese torturer and the moment he left Sam Stay. He had read of the murder, and had been shocked, and, in his way, grieved. It was not to save Odette Rider that he sent his note to Scotland Yard, but rather to avenge himself upon the man who had killed the only woman in the world who had touched his warped nature. Nor had he any intention of commit
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THE ARREST
THE ARREST
Tarling stooped down and released the cords which bound Milburgh to the couch. The stout man was white and shaking, and had to be lifted into a sitting position. He sat there on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands, for five minutes, and the two men watched him curiously. Tarling had made a careful examination of the cuts on his chest, and was relieved to discover that Ling Chu—he did not doubt that the Chinaman was responsible for Milburgh's plight—had not yet employed that terrible tortu
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MILBURGH'S STORY
MILBURGH'S STORY
"I do not intend," said Mr. Milburgh in his best oracular manner, "describing all the events which preceded the death of the late Thornton Lyne. Nor will I go to any length to deal with his well-known and even notorious character. He was not a good employer; he was suspicious, unjust, and in many ways mean. Mr. Lyne was, I admit, suspicious of me. He was under the impression that I had robbed the firm of very considerable sums of money—a suspicion which I in turn had long suspected, and had conf
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AT HIGHGATE CEMETERY
AT HIGHGATE CEMETERY
Odette Rider sat back in a corner of the smooth-running taxicab. Her eyes were closed, for the inevitable reaction had come. Excitement and anxiety had combined to give her the strength to walk to the cab with a firm step which had surprised the matron; but now, in the darkness and solitude, she was conscious of a depression, both physical and mental, which left her without the will or power for further effort. The car sped through interminably long streets—in what direction she neither knew nor
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LING CHU RETURNS
LING CHU RETURNS
Tarling dropped the telephone receiver on its hook and had sunk into a chair with a groan. His face was white—whiter than the prisoner's who sat opposite him, and he seemed to have gone old all of a sudden. "What is it?" asked Whiteside quietly. "Who was the man?" "Stay," said Tarling. "Stay. He has Odette! It's awful, awful!" Whiteside, thoughtful, preoccupied; Milburgh, his face twitching with fear, watched the scene curiously. "I'm beaten," said Tarling—and at that moment the telephone bell r
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THE STATEMENT OF SAM STAY
THE STATEMENT OF SAM STAY
"My name is Sam Stay. I was born at Maidstone in the County of Kent. My age is twenty-nine years. I left school at the age of eleven and got mixed up with a bad set, and at the age of thirteen I was convicted for stealing from a shop, and was sent to Borstal Institute for four years. "On my release from Borstal I went to London, and a year later was convicted of house-breaking, receiving a sentence of twelve months' imprisonment with hard labour. On my release from prison I was taken up by a soc
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