The Daffodil Mystery Read online

  CHAPTER XX

  MR. MILBURGH SEES IT THROUGH

  Ling Chu's story was not difficult to believe. It was less difficult tobelieve that he was lying. There is no inventor in the world so clever,so circumstantial, so exact as to detail, as the Chinaman. He is a bornteller of stories and piecer together of circumstances that fit soclosely that it is difficult to see the joints. Yet the man had beenfrank, straightforward, patently honest. He had even placed himself inTarling's power by his confession of his murderous intention.

  Tarling could reconstruct the scene after the Chinaman had left. Milburghstumbling in in the dark, striking a match and discovering a wall plughad been pulled away, reconnecting the lamp, and seeing to his amazementa murderous-looking pistol on the desk. It was possible that Milburgh,finding the pistol, had been deceived into believing that he hadoverlooked it on his previous search.

  But what had happened to the weapon between the moment that Ling Chu leftit on Thornton Lyne's private desk and when it was discovered in thework-basket of Odette Rider in the flat at Carrymore Mansions? And whathad Milburgh been doing in the store by himself so late at night? Andmore particularly, what had he been doing in Thornton Lyne's privateroom? It was unlikely that Lyne would leave his desk unlocked, and theonly inference to be drawn was that Milburgh had unlocked it himself withthe object of searching its contents.

  And the _Hong_? Those sinister little squares of red paper with theChinese characters, one of which had been found in Thornton Lyne'spocket? The explanation of their presence in Thornton Lyne's desk wassimple. He had been a globetrotter and had collected curios, and it wasonly natural that he should collect these slips of paper, which were onsale in most of the big Chinese towns as a souvenir of the predatorymethods of the "Cheerful Hearts."

  His conversation with Ling Chu would have to be reported to ScotlandYard, and that august institution would draw its own conclusions. In allprobability they would be most unfavourable to Ling Chu, who would comeimmediately under suspicion.

  Tarling, however, was satisfied--or perhaps it would be more accurate tosay inclined to be satisfied--with his retainer's statement. Some of hisstory was susceptible to verification, and the detective lost no time inmaking his way to the Stores. The topographical situation was as Ling Chuhad described it. Tarling went to the back of the big block of buildings,into the small, quiet street of which Ling Chu had spoken, and was ableto distinguish the iron rain pipe (one of many) up which the Chinaman hadclambered. Ling Chu would negotiate that task without any physicaldistress. He could climb like a cat, as Tarling knew, and that part ofhis story put no great tax upon the detective's credulity.

  He walked back to the front of the shop, passed the huge plate-glasswindows, fringed now with shoppers with whom Lyne's Store had acquireda new and morbid interest, and through the big swinging doors on to thecrowded floor. Mr. Milburgh was in his office, said a shop-walker, and ledthe way.

  Mr. Milburgh's office was much larger and less ornate than his lateemployer's. He greeted Tarling effusively, and pushed an arm-chairforward and produced a box of cigars.

  "We're in rather a turmoil and upset now, Mr. Tarling," he said inhis ingratiating voice, with that set smile of his which neverseemed to leave his face. "The auditors--or rather I should say theaccountants--have taken away all the books, and of course that imposesa terrible strain on me, Mr. Tarling. It means that we've got to organisea system of interim accounts, and you as a business man will understandjust what that means."

  "You work pretty hard, Mr. Milburgh?" said Tarling.

  "Why, yes, sir," smiled Milburgh. "I've always worked hard."

  "You were working pretty hard before Mr. Lyne was killed, were you not?"asked Tarling.

  "Yes----" hesitated Milburgh. "I can say honestly that I was."

  "Very late at night?"

  Milburgh still smiled, but there was a steely look in his eye as heanswered:

  "Frequently I worked late at night."

  "Do you remember the night of the eleventh?" asked Tarling.

  Milburgh looked at the ceiling for inspiration.

  "Yes, I think I do. I was working very late that night."

  "In your own office?"

  "No," replied the other readily, "I did most of my work in Mr. Lyne'soffice--at his request," he added. A bold statement to make to a manwho knew that Lyne suspected him of robbing the firm. But Milburgh wasnothing if not bold.

  "Did he also give you the key of his desk?" asked the detective dryly.

  "Yes, sir," beamed Mr. Milburgh, "of course he did! You see, Mr. Lynetrusted me absolutely."

  He said this so naturally and with such assurance that Tarling wasstaggered. Before he had time to speak the other went on:

  "Yes, I can truthfully say that I was in Mr. Lyne's confidence. He toldme a great deal more about himself than he has told anybody and----"

  "One moment," said Tarling, and he spoke slowly. "Will you please tell mewhat you did with the revolver which you found on Mr. Lyne's desk? It wasa Colt automatic, and it was loaded."

  Blank astonishment showed in Mr. Milburgh's eyes.

  "A loaded pistol?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, "but, my dear good Mr.Tarling, whatever are you talking about? I never found a loaded pistol onMr. Lyne's desk--poor fellow! Mr. Lyne objected as much to these deadlyweapons as myself."

  Here was a facer for Tarling, but he betrayed no sign either ofdisappointment or surprise. Milburgh was frowning as though he wereattempting to piece together some half-forgotten recollection.

  "Is it possible," he said in a shocked voice, "that when you examined myhouse the other day it was with the object of discovering such a weaponas this!"

  "It's quite possible," said Tarling coolly, "and even probable. Now, I'mgoing to be very straightforward with you, Mr. Milburgh. I suspect youknow a great deal more about this murder than you have told us, and thatyou had ever so much more reason for wishing Mr. Lyne was dead than youare prepared to admit at this moment. Wait," he said, as the other openedhis mouth to speak. "I am telling you candidly that the object of myfirst visit to these Stores was to investigate happenings which lookedvery black against you. It was hardly so much the work of a detective asan accountant," he said, "but Mr. Lyne thought that I should be able todiscover who was robbing the firm."

  "And did you?" asked Milburgh coolly. There was the ghost of a smilestill upon his face, but defiance shone in his pale eyes.

  "I did not, because I went no further in the matter after you hadexpressed your agreement with Mr. Lyne that the firm had been robbed byOdette Rider."

  He saw the man change colour, and pushed home his advantage.

  "I am not going to inquire too closely into your reasons for attemptingto ruin an innocent girl," he said sternly. "That is a matter foryour own conscience. But I tell you, Mr. Milburgh, that if you areinnocent--both of the robbery and of the murder--then I've never met aguilty person in my life."

  "What do you mean?" asked the man loudly. "Do you dare to accuse me----?"

  "I accuse you of nothing more than this," said Tarling, "that I amperfectly satisfied that you have been robbing the firm for years. I amequally satisfied that, even if you did not kill Mr. Lyne, you at leastknow who did."

  "You're mad," sneered Milburgh, but his face was white. "Supposing itwere true that I had robbed the firm, why should I want to kill Mr.Thornton Lyne? The mere fact of his death would have brought anexamination into the accounts."

  This was a convincing argument--the more so as it was an argument whichTarling himself had employed.

  "As to your absurd and melodramatic charges of robbing the firm,"Milburgh went on, "the books are now in the hands of an eminent firm ofchartered accountants, who can give the lie to any such statement as youhave made."

  He had recovered something of his old urbanity, and now stood, or ratherstraddled, with his legs apart, his thumbs in the armholes of hiswaistcoat, beaming benignly upon the detective.

  "I await the investigation of that emine
nt firm, Messrs. Dashwood andSolomon, with every confidence and without the least perturbation," hesaid. "Their findings will vindicate my honour beyond any question. Ishall see this matter through!"

  Tarling looked at him.

  "I admire your nerve," he said, and left the office without another word.