est were Golden Spurs."

He knelt down by the side of the bed and began pushing aside the stems,
examining the ground carefully.

"Here you are," he said.

He pointed to a dozen jagged stems.

"That is where the daffodils were plucked, I'd like to swear to that.
Look, they were all pulled together by one hand. Somebody leaned over and
pulled a handful."

Whiteside looked dubious.

"Mischievous boys sometimes do these things."

"Only in single stalks," said Tarling, "and the regular flower thieves
are careful to steal from various parts of the bed so that the loss
should not be reported by the Park gardeners."

"Then you suggest--"

"I suggest that whoever killed Thornton Lyne found it convenient, for
some reason best known to himself or herself, to ornament the body as it
was found, and the flowers were got from here."

"Not from the girl's flat at all?"

"I'm sure of that," replied Tarling emphatically. "In fact, I knew that
this morning when I'd seen the daffodils which you had taken to Scotland
Yard."

Whiteside scratched his nose in perplexity.

"The further this case goes, the more puzzled I am," he said. "Here is
a man, a wealthy man, who has apparently no bitter enemies, discovered
dead in Hyde Park, with a woman's silk night-dress wound round his
chest, with list slippers on his feet, and a Chinese inscription in his
pocket--and further, to puzzle the police, a bunch of daffodils on the
chest. That was a woman's act, Mr. Tarling," he said suddenly.

Tarling started. "How do you mean?" he asked.

"It was a woman's act to put flowers on the man," said Whiteside quietly.
"Those daffodils tell me of pity and compassion, and perhaps repentance."

A slow smile dawned on Tarling's face.

"My dear Whiteside," he said, "you are getting sentimental! And here," he
added, looking up, "attracted to the spot, is a gentleman I seem to be
always meeting--Mr. Milburgh, I think."

Milburgh had stopped at the sight of the detective, and looked as if he
would have been glad to have faded away unobserved. But Tarling had seen
him, and Milburgh came forward with his curious little shuffling walk, a
set smile on his face, the same worried look in his eyes, which Tarling
had seen once before.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said, with a flourish of his top hat.
"I suppose, Mr. Tarling, nothing has been discovered?"

"At any rate, I didn't expect to discover _you_ here this morning!"
smiled Tarling. "I thought y