The Daffodil Mystery

by Edgar Wallace

  CHAPTER IV

  MURDER

  Jack Tarling lay stretched upon his hard bed, a long cigarette-holderbetween his teeth, a book on Chinese metaphysics balanced on his chest,at peace with the world. The hour was eight o'clock, and it was the daythat Sam Stay had been released from gaol.

  It had been a busy day for Tarling, for he was engaged in a bank fraudcase which would have occupied the whole of his time had he not had alittle private business to attend to. This private matter was whollyunprofitable, but his curiosity had been piqued.

  He lay the book flat on his chest as the soft click of the opening doorannounced the coming of his retainer. The impassive Ling Chu camenoiselessly into the room, carrying a tray, which he placed upon a lowtable by the side of his master's bed. The Chinaman wore a blue silkpyjama suit--a fact which Tarling noticed.

  "You are not going out to-night then, Ling Chu?"

  "No, Lieh Jen," said the man.

  They both spoke in the soft, sibilant patois of Shantung.

  "You have been to the Man with the Cunning Face?"

  For answer the other took an envelope from an inside pocket and laid itin the other's hand. Tarling glanced at the address.

  "So this is where the young lady lives, eh? Miss Odette Rider, 27,Carrymore Buildings, Edgware Road."

  "It is a clan house, where many people live," said Ling Chu. "I myselfwent, in your honourable service, and saw people coming in and going outinterminably, and never the same people did I see twice."

  "It is what they call in English a 'flat building,' Ling," said Tarlingwith a little smile. "What did the Man with the Cunning Face say to myletter?"

  "Master, he said nothing. He just read and read, and then he made a facelike this." Ling gave an imitation of Mr. Milburgh's smile. "And then hewrote as you see."

  Tarling nodded. He stared for a moment into vacancy, then he turned onhis elbow and lifted the cup of tea which his servant had brought him.

  "What of Face-White-and-Weak Man, Ling?" he asked in the vernacular. "Yousaw him?"

  "I saw him, master," said the Chinaman gravely. "He is a man without aheaven."

  Again Tarling nodded. The Chinese use the word "heaven" instead of "God,"and he felt that Ling had very accurately sized up Mr. Thornton Lyne'slack of spiritual qualities.

  He finished the tea, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

  "Ling," he said, "this place is very dull and sad. I do not think I shalllive here."

  "Will the master go back to Shanghai?" asked the other, without anydisplay of emotion.

  "I think so," nodded Tarling. "At any rate, this place is too dull. Justmiserable little taking-money-easily cases, and wife-husband-lover casesand my soul is sick."

  "These are small matters," said Ling philosophically. "But TheMaster"--this time he spoke of the great Master, Confucius--"has saidthat all greatness comes from small things, and perhaps some small-pieceman will cut off the head of some big-piece man, and then they will callyou to find the murderer."

  Tarling laughed.

  "You're an optimist, Ling," he said. "No, I don't think they'll call mein for a murder. They don't call in private detectives in this country."

  Ling shook his head.

  "But the master must find murderers, or he will no longer be Lieh Jen,the Hunter of Men."

  "You're a bloodthirsty soul, Ling," said Tarling, this time in English,which Ling imperfectly understood, despite the sustained efforts ofeminent missionary schools. "Now I'll go out," he said with suddenresolution. "I am going to call upon the small-piece woman whomWhite-Face desires."

  "May I come with you?" asked Ling.

  Tarling hesitated.

  "Yes, you may come," he said, "but you must trail me."

  Carrymore Mansions is a great block of buildings sandwiched between twomore aristocratic and more expensive blocks of flats in the Edgware Road.The ground floor is given up to lock-up shops which perhaps cheapened thebuilding, but still it was a sufficiently exclusive habitation for therents, as Tarling guessed, to be a little too high for a shop assistant,unless she were living with her family. The explanation, as he was todiscover, lay in the fact that there were some very undesirable basementflats which were let at a lower rental.

  He found himself standing outside the polished mahogany door of one ofthese, wondering exactly what excuse he was going to give to the girl formaking a call so late at night. And that she needed some explanation wasclear from the frank suspicion which showed in her face when she openedthe door to him.

  "Yes, I am Miss Rider," she said.

  "Can I see you for a few moments?"

  "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head, "but I am alone in the flat, soI can't ask you to come in."

  This was a bad beginning.

  "Is it not possible for you to come out?" he asked anxiously, and inspite of herself, she smiled.

  "I'm afraid it's quite impossible for me to go out with somebody I havenever met before," she said, with just a trace of amusement in her eyes.

  "I recognise the difficulty," laughed Tailing. "Here is one of my cards.I'm afraid I am not very famous in this country, so you will not knowmy name."

  She took the card and read it.

  "A private detective?" she said in a troubled voice. "Who has sent you?Not Mr.----"

  "Not Mr. Lyne," he said.

  She hesitated a moment, then threw open the door wider.

  "You must come in. We can talk here in the hall. Do I understand Mr. Lynehas not sent you?"

  "Mr. Lyne was very anxious that I should come," he said. "I am betrayinghis confidence, but I do not think that he has any claim upon my loyalty.I don't know why I've bothered you at all, except that I feel that youought to be put on your guard."

  "Against what?" she asked.

  "Against the machinations of a gentleman to whom you have been----" hehesitated for a word.

  "Very offensive," she finished for him.

  "I don't know how offensive you've been," he laughed, "but I gather youhave annoyed Mr. Lyne for some reason or other, and that he is determinedto annoy you. I do not ask your confidence in this respect, because Irealise that you would hardly like to tell me. But what I want to tellyou is this, that Mr. Lyne is probably framing up a charge againstyou--that is to say, inventing a charge of theft."

  "Of theft?" she cried in indignant amazement. "Against me? Of theft? It'simpossible that he could be so wicked!"

  "It's not impossible that anybody could be wicked," said Tarling of theimpassive face and the laughing eyes. "All that I know is that he eveninduced Mr. Milburgh to say that complaints have been made by Milburghconcerning thefts of money from your department."

  "That's absolutely impossible!" she cried emphatically. "Mr. Milburghwould never say such a thing. Absolutely impossible!"

  "Mr. Milburgh didn't want to say such a thing, I give him credit forthat," said Tarling slowly, and then gave the gist of the argument,omitting any reference, direct or indirect, to the suspicion whichsurrounded Milburgh.

  "So you see," he said in conclusion, "that you ought to be on your guard.I suggest to you that you see a solicitor and put the matter in hishands. You need not move against Mr. Lyne, but it would strengthen yourposition tremendously if you had already detailed the scheme to someperson in authority."

  "Thank you very, very much, Mr. Tarling," she said warmly, and looked upinto his face with a smile so sweet, so pathetic, so helpless, thatTarling's heart melted towards her.

  "And if you don't want a solicitor," he said, "you can depend upon me.I will help you if any trouble arises."

  "You don't know how grateful I am to you, Mr. Tarling, I didn't receiveyou very graciously!"

  "If you will forgive my saying so, you would have been a fool to havereceived me in any other way," he said.

  She held out both hands to him: he took them, and there were tears in hereyes. Presently she composed herself, and led him into her littledrawing-room.

  "Of course, I've lost my job," she
laughed, "but I've had several offers,one of which I shall accept. I am going to have the rest of the week tomyself and to take a holiday."

  Tarling stopped her with a gesture. His ears were superhumanly sensitive.

  "Are you expecting a visitor?" he asked softly.

  "No," said the girl in surprise.

  "Do you share this flat with somebody?"

  "I have a woman who sleeps here," she said. "She is out for the evening."

  "Has she a key?"

  The girl shook her head.

  The man rose, and Odette marvelled how one so tall could move so swiftly,and without so much as a sound, across the uncarpeted hallway. Hereached the door, turned the knob of the patent lock and jerked it open.A man was standing on the mat and he jumped back at the unexpectednessof Tarling's appearance. The stranger was a cadaverous-looking man, in abrand-new suit of clothes, evidently ready-made, but he still woreon his face the curious yellow tinge which is the special mark of therecently liberated gaol-bird.

  "Beg pardon," he stammered, "but is this No. 87?"

  Tarling shot out a hand, and gripping him by the coat, drew the helplessman towards him.

  "Hullo, what are you trying to do? What's this you have?"

  He wrenched something from the man's hand. It was not a key but aflat-toothed instrument of strange construction.

  "Come in," said Tarling, and jerked his prisoner into the hall.

  A swift turning back of his prisoner's coat pinioned him, and then withdexterousness and in silence he proceeded to search. From two pockets hetook a dozen jewelled rings, each bearing the tiny tag of Lyne's Store.

  "Hullo!" said Tarling sarcastically, "are these intended as a loving giftfrom Mr. Lyne to Miss Rider?"

  The man was speechless with rage. If looks could kill, Tarling would havedied.

  "A clumsy trick," said Tarling, shaking his head mournfully. "Now go backto your boss, Mr. Thornton Lyne, and tell him that I am ashamed of anintelligent man adopting so crude a method," and with a kick he dismissedSam Stay to the outer darkness.

  The girl, who had been a frightened spectator of the scene, turned hereyes imploringly upon the detective.

  "What does it mean?" she pleaded. "I feel so frightened. What did thatman want?"

  "You need not be afraid of that man, or any other man," said Tarlingbriskly. "I'm sorry you were scared."

  He succeeded in calming her by the time her servant had returned and thentook his leave.

  "Remember, I have given you my telephone number and you will call me upif there is any trouble. Particularly," he said emphatically, "if thereis any trouble to-morrow."

  But there was no trouble on the following day, though at three o'clock inthe afternoon she called him up.

  "I am going away to stay in the country," she said. "I got scared lastnight."

  "Come and see me when you get back," said Tarling, who had found itdifficult to dismiss the girl from his mind. "I am going to see Lyneto-morrow. By the way, the person who called last night is a protege ofMr. Thornton Lyne's, a man who is devoted to him body and soul, andhe's the fellow we've got to look after. By Jove! It almost gives me aninterest in life!"

  He heard the faint laugh of the girl.

  "Must I be butchered to make a detective's holiday?" she mocked, and hegrinned sympathetically.

  "Any way, I'll see Lyne to-morrow," he said.

  The interview which Jack Tarling projected was destined never to takeplace.

  On the following morning, an early worker taking a short cut through HydePark, found the body of a man lying by the side of a carriage drive. Hewas fully dressed save that his coat and waistcoat had been removed.Wound about his body was a woman's silk night-dress stained with blood.The hands of the figure were crossed on the breast and upon them lay ahandful of daffodils.

  At eleven o'clock that morning the evening newspapers burst forth withthe intelligence that the body had been identified as that of ThorntonLyne, and that he had been shot through the heart.