"A search of the bedroom in which the crime was committed reveals a
bloodstained thumb-print on the white bureau, and a suit-case, identified
as Odette Rider's, half-packed upon the bed. Later, a pistol, which is
mine, is found in the lady's work-basket, hidden under repairing
material. The first suggestion is that Miss Rider is the murderess.
That suggestion is refuted, first by the fact that she was at Ashford
when the murder was committed, unconscious as a result of a railway
accident; and the second point in her favour is that the telegram
discovered by Lyne's valet, purporting to be signed by the girl, inviting
Lyne to her flat at a certain hour, was not delivered to the murdered
man."

He rose to his feet.

"Come along and see Cresswell," he said. "This case is going to drive me
mad!"

Assistant Commissioner Cresswell heard the story the two men had to tell,
and if he was astounded he did not betray any signs of his surprise.

"This looks like being the murder case of the century," he said. "Of
course, you cannot proceed any further against Miss Rider, and you were
wise not to make the arrest. However, she must be kept under observation,
because apparently she knows, or think she knows, the person who did
commit the murder. She must be watched day and night, and sooner or
later, she will lead you to the man upon whom her suspicions rest.

"Whiteside had better see her," he said, turning to Tarling. "He may
get a new angle of her view. I don't think there's much use in bringing
her down here. And, by-the-way, Tarling, all the accounts of Lyne's
Stores have been placed in the hands of a clever firm of chartered
accountants--Dashwood and Solomon, of St. Mary Axe. If you suspect there
has been any peculation on the part of Lyne's employees, and if that
peculation is behind the murder, we shall probably learn something which
will give you a clue."

Tarling nodded.

"How long will the examination take?" he asked.

"They think a week. The books have been taken away this morning--which
reminds me that your friend, Mr. Milburgh--I think that is his name--is
giving every assistance to the police to procure a faithful record of the
firm's financial position."

He looked up at Tarling and scratched his nose.

"So it was committed with your pistol, Tarling?" he said with a little
smile. "That sounds bad."

"It sounds mad," laughed Tarling. "I'm going straight back to discover
what happened to my pistol and how