ly, and
immediately afterwards I saw Stay running along the path. In a few
seconds the cab had disappeared and I dragged myself to the shop--and
that's all."

No news had been received of Ling Chu when Tarling returned to his flat.
Whiteside was waiting; and told him that he had put Milburgh into the
cells and that he would be charged the following day.

"I can't understand what has happened to Ling Chu. He should be back by
now," said Tarling.

It was half-past one in the morning, and a telephone inquiry to Scotland
Yard had produced no information.

"It is possible, of course," Tarling went on, "that Stay took the cab on
to Hertford. The man has developed into a dangerous lunatic."

"All criminals are more or less mad," said the philosophical Whiteside.
"I wonder what turned this fellow's brain."

"Love!" said Tarling.

The other looked at him in surprise.

"Love?" he repeated incredulously, and Tarling: nodded.

"Undoubtedly Sam Stay adored Lyne. It was the shock of his death which
drove him mad."

Whiteside drummed his fingers on the table, thoughtfully.

"What do you think of Milburgh's story?" he asked, and Tarling shrugged
his shoulders.

"It is most difficult to form a judgment," he said. "The man spoke as
though he were telling the truth, and something within me convinces me
that he was not lying. And yet the whole thing is incredible."

"Of course, Milburgh has had time to make up a pretty good story," warned
Whiteside. "He is a fairly shrewd man, this Milburgh, and it was hardly
likely that he would tell us a yarn which was beyond the range of
belief."

"That is true," agreed the other, "nevertheless, I am satisfied he told
almost the whole of the truth."

"Then, who killed Thornton Lyne?"

Tarling rose with a gesture of despair.

"You are apparently as far from the solution of that mystery as I am, and
yet I have formed a theory which may sound fantastic----"

There was a light step upon the stair and Tarling crossed the room and
opened the door.

Ling Chu came in, his calm, inscrutable self, and but for the fact that
his forehead and his right hand were heavily bandaged, carrying no
evidence of his tragic experience.

"Hello, Ling Chu," said Tarling in English, "you're hurt?"

"Not badly," said Ling Chu. "Will the master be good enough to give me a
cigarette? I lost all mine in the struggle."

"Where is Sam Stay?"

Ling Chu lit the cigarette before he answered, blew out the ma