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Updated: June 23, 2025
Presently Milburgh was stripped to the waist, and Ling Chu regarded his handiwork complacently. He went to a cupboard in the wall, and took out a small brown bottle, which he placed on a table by the side of the bed. Then he himself sat upon the edge of the bed and spoke.
He had gained some courage, because he had expected in the first place to be taken immediately to Scotland Yard and placed in custody. The fact that Tarling's flat lay at the end of the journey seemed to suggest that the situation was not as desperate as he had imagined. Ling Chu, turning suddenly upon Milburgh, gripped him by the wrist, half-turning as he did so.
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.
"From the Western standpoint we are a primitive people. From our own point of view we are rigidly honourable. Also and this I would emphasise." He did, in fact, emphasise his words to the terror of Mr. Milburgh, with the point of his knife upon the other's broad chest, though so lightly was the knife held that Milburgh felt nothing but the slightest tingle.
Milburgh slept on a large wooden four-poster. "He's a luxurious devil," said Whiteside. "Look at the thickness of those box springs." He tapped the side of that piece of furniture and looked round with a startled expression. "A bit solid for a box spring, isn't it?" he asked, and continued his investigation, tearing down the bed valance.
He had already arrived at the conclusion that Ling Chu was but a messenger who had been sent by the man from Shanghai to bring him to his presence. But there was no sign of Tarling. "Now, my friend, what do you want?" he asked. "It is true I am Mr. Milburgh, but when you say that I have committed murder you are telling a wicked lie."
"I will go first to the hospital and afterwards, if all is well, I will return for you." He took a clean white towel from the dressing-table and laid it over his victim's face. Upon the towel he sprinkled the contents of a third bottle which he took from the cupboard, and Milburgh remembered no more until he looked up into the puzzled face of Tarling an hour later.
"Who is the lady, may I venture to ask, sir?" It was Milburgh who interposed the question. "Miss Rider," replied Lyne. "Miss Rider!" Milburgh's face took on a look of blank surprise, as he gasped the words. "Miss Rider oh, no, impossible!" "Why impossible?" demanded Mr. Lyne sharply. "Well, sir, I meant " stammered the manager, "it is so unlikely she is such a nice girl "
I wore a heavy overcoat, I know," said Mr. Milburgh, "for the night was chilly and a little foggy, if you remember." "Where was the revolver?" "In the overcoat pocket," replied Milburgh immediately. "Had you your overcoat on?" Milburgh thought for a moment. "No, I had not. I had hung it up on a hook at the foot of the bed, near the alcove which I believe Miss Rider used as a wardrobe."
"Your name is Milburgh, if I remember aright?" The manager of Lyne's Store turned, rubbing his hands, his habitual smile upon his face. "Why, to be sure," he said genially, "it's Mr. Tarling, the detective gentleman. What sad news this is, Mr. Tarling! How dreadful for everybody concerned!" "I suppose it has meant an upset at the Stores, this terrible happening?"
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