rities had acted so
promptly in impounding Lyne's books. An examination into these might lead
to the discovery of the murderer, and at any rate would dispel the cloud
of suspicion which still surrounded Odette Rider.

He had gone to Dashwood and Solomon to make himself personally acquainted
with that string in the tangled skein which he was determined to unravel;
and now, with his mind at rest upon that subject, he was returning to
settle matters with Ling Chu, that Chinese assistant of his who was now
as deeply under suspicion as any suspect in the case.

He had spoken no more than the truth when he had told Inspector Whiteside
that he knew the way to deal with Ling Chu. A Chinese criminal--and he
was loath to believe that Ling Chu, that faithful servant, came under
that description--is not to be handled in the Occidental manner; and he,
who had been known throughout Southern China as the "Hunter of Men" had a
reputation for extracting truth by methods which no code of laws would
sanction.

He walked into his Bond Street flat, shut the door behind him and locked
it, putting the key in his pocket. He knew Ling Chu would be in, because
he had given him instructions that morning to await his return.

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

"Close the door, Ling Chu," said Tarling in Chinese. "I have something to
say to you."

The last words were spoken in English, and the Chinaman looked at him
quickly. Tarling had never addressed him in that language before, and
the Chinaman knew just what this departure portended.

"Ling Chu," said Tarling, sitting at the table, his chin in his hand,
watching the other with steady eyes, "you did not tell me that you spoke
English."

"The master has never asked me," said the Chinaman quietly, and to
Tarling's surprise his English was without accent and his pronunciation
perfect.

"That is not true," said Tarling sternly. "When you told me that you had
heard of the murder, I said that you did not understand English, and you
did not deny it."

"It is not for me to deny the master," said Ling Chu as coolly as ever.
"I speak very good English. I was trained at the Jesuit School in
Hangkow, but it is not good for a Chinaman to speak English in China, or
for any to know that he understands. Yet the master must have known I
spoke English and read the language, for why should I keep the little
cuttings from the newspaper