n Lyne's desk?" said Tarling. "Then why did you
not tell the police before? You know that the police attach a great deal
of importance to the discovery of one of these things in the dead man's
pocket?"

Mr. Milburgh nodded.

"It is perfectly true that I did not mention the fact to the police," he
said, "but you understand Mr. Tarling that I was very much upset by the
sad occurrence, which drove everything else out of my mind. It would have
been quite possible that you would have found one or two of these strange
inscriptions in this very house." He smiled in the detective's face. "Mr.
Lyne was very fond of distributing the curios he brought from the East
to his friends," he went on. "He gave me that dagger you see hanging on
the wall, which he bought at some outlandish place in his travels. He may
have given me a sample of these slips. I remember his telling me a story
about them, which I cannot for the moment recall."

He would have continued retailing reminiscences of his late employer, but
Tarling cut him short, and with a curt good night withdrew. Milburgh
accompanied him to the front gate and locked the door upon the three men
before he went back to his sitting-room smiling quietly to himself.

"I am certain that the man was Milburgh," said Tarling. "I am as certain
as that I am standing here."

"Have you any idea why he should want to out you?" asked Whiteside.

"None in the world," replied Tarling. "Evidently my assailant was a man
who had watched my movements and had probably followed the girl and
myself to the hotel in a cab. When I disappeared inside he dismissed his
own and then took the course of dismissing my cab, which he could easily
do by paying the man his fare and sending him off. A cabman would accept
that dismissal without suspicion. He then waited for me in the fog and
followed me until he got me into a quiet part of the road, where he first
attempted to sandbag and then to shoot me."

"But why?" asked Whiteside again. "Suppose Milburgh knew something about
this murder--which is very doubtful--what benefit would it be to him to
have you put out of the way?"

"If I could answer that question," replied Tarling grimly, "I could tell
you who killed Thornton Lyne."

CHAPTER XV

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 wa