ou ought to be on your guard.
I suggest to you that you see a solicitor and put the matter in his
hands. You need not move against Mr. Lyne, but it would strengthen your
position tremendously if you had already detailed the scheme to some
person in authority."

"Thank you very, very much, Mr. Tarling," she said warmly, and looked up
into his face with a smile so sweet, so pathetic, so helpless, that
Tarling's heart melted towards her.

"And if you don't want a solicitor," he said, "you can depend upon me.
I will help you if any trouble arises."

"You don't know how grateful I am to you, Mr. Tarling, I didn't receive
you very graciously!"

"If you will forgive my saying so, you would have been a fool to have
received me in any other way," he said.

She held out both hands to him: he took them, and there were tears in her
eyes. Presently she composed herself, and led him into her little
drawing-room.

"Of course, I've lost my job," she laughed, "but I've had several offers,
one of which I shall accept. I am going to have the rest of the week to
myself and to take a holiday."

Tarling stopped her with a gesture. His ears were superhumanly sensitive.

"Are you expecting a visitor?" he asked softly.

"No," said the girl in surprise.

"Do you share this flat with somebody?"

"I have a woman who sleeps here," she said. "She is out for the evening."

"Has she a key?"

The girl shook her head.

The man rose, and Odette marvelled how one so tall could move so swiftly,
and without so much as a sound, across the uncarpeted hallway. He
reached the door, turned the knob of the patent lock and jerked it open.
A man was standing on the mat and he jumped back at the unexpectedness
of Tarling's appearance. The stranger was a cadaverous-looking man, in a
brand-new suit of clothes, evidently ready-made, but he still wore
on his face the curious yellow tinge which is the special mark of the
recently liberated gaol-bird.

"Beg pardon," he stammered, "but is this No. 87?"

Tarling shot out a hand, and gripping him by the coat, drew the helpless
man towards him.

"Hullo, what are you trying to do? What's this you have?"

He wrenched something from the man's hand. It was not a key but a
flat-toothed instrument of strange construction.

"Come in," said Tarling, and jerked his prisoner into the hall.

A swift turning back of his prisoner's coat pinioned him, and then with
dexterousness and in silence he proceeded to sear