I have
conveyed the identity of the gentleman of whom I have been speaking, I
hope you will be good enough to regard it as confidential," said Tarling,
and went back to his crestfallen subordinate.

"No wonder Milburgh was satisfied with the forthcoming examination,"
he said bitterly. "The devil had planted that parcel, and had timed
it probably to the minute. Well, there's nothing more to be done
to-night--with Milburgh."

He looked at his watch.

"I'm going back to my flat, and afterwards to Hertford," he said.

He had made no definite plan as to what line he should pursue after he
reached Hertford. He had a dim notion that his investigation hereabouts
might, if properly directed, lead him nearer to the heart of the mystery.
This pretty, faded woman who lived in such style, and whose husband was
so seldom visible, might give him a key. Somewhere it was in existence,
that key, by which he could decipher the jumbled code of the Daffodil
Murder, and it might as well be at Hertford as nearer at hand.

It was dark when he came to the home of Mrs. Rider, for this time he had
dispensed with a cab, and had walked the long distance between the
station and the house, desiring to avoid attention. The dwelling stood on
the main road. It had a high wall frontage of about three hundred and
fifty feet. The wall was continued down the side of a lane, and at the
other end marked the boundary of a big paddock.

The entrance to the grounds was through a wrought-iron gate of strength,
the design of which recalled something which he had seen before. On his
previous visit the gate had been unfastened, and he had had no difficulty
in reaching the house. Now, however, it was locked.

He put his flashlight over the gate and the supporting piers, and
discovered a bell, evidently brand new, and recently fixed. He made no
attempt to press the little white button, but continued his
reconnaissance. About half-a-dozen yards inside the gateway was a small
cottage, from which a light showed, and apparently the bell communicated
with this dwelling. Whilst he was waiting, he heard a whistle and a quick
footstep coming up the road, and drew into the shadow. Somebody came to
the gate; he heard the faint tinkle of a bell and a door opened.

The new-comer was a newspaper boy, who pushed a bundle of evening papers
through the iron bars and went off again. Tarling waited until he heard
the door of the cottage or lodge close. Then he made a circuit o