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Updated: June 12, 2025
Let us say, for example, that I knew somebody had been robbing the firm, but that I was unable to detect that somebody. Would not the fact that I was morally responsible for the finances of Lyne's Stores cause me particular unhappiness?" "You speak like a book," said Whiteside, "and I for one don't believe a word you say. I think you were a thief, Milburgh; but go on your own sweet way."
Again and again he turned the problem over in his mind. At every point he was baffled by the wild improbability of the facts that he had discovered. Why should Odette Rider be content to accept a servile position in Lyne's Stores when her mother was living in luxury at Hertford?
Tarling caught sight of the brusque Sir Felix Solomon gazing, without any visible evidence of distress, upon the wreckage of his office. "We are covered by insurance," said Sir Felix philosophically, "and there is nothing of any great importance, except, of course, those documents and books from Lyne's Store." "They weren't in the fire-proof vault?" asked Tarling, and Sir Felix shook his head.
"I, Odette Rider, hereby confess that for three years I have been robbing the firm of Lyne's Stores, Limited, and during that period have taken the sum of £25,000." Tarling dropped the paper and caught the girl as she fainted. Milburgh had gone too far. He had hoped to carry through this scene without the actual disclosure of the confession.
"They are diaries; I wonder if the beggar kept a diary?" He piled the little volumes on the bed and Tarling took one and turned the leaves. "Thornton Lyne's diary," he said. "This may be useful." One of the volumes was locked. It was the newest of the books, and evidently an attempt had been made to force the lock, for the hasp was badly wrenched. Mr.
The Commissioner looked up in surprise. "Has he an heir?" he asked. "He has a cousin," said Tarling with a little smile, "a relationship close enough to qualify him for Lyne's millions, unfortunately." "Why unfortunately?" asked Mr. Cresswell. "Because I happen to be the heir," said Tarling. Tarling walked out of Scotland Yard on to the sunlit Embankment, trouble in his face.
Tarling had procured an adjournment of the inquest; for, whatever might be his sentiments towards Odette Rider, he was, it seemed, more anxious to perform his duty to the State, and it was very necessary that no prurient-minded coroner should investigate too deeply into the cause and the circumstances leading up to Thornton Lyne's death, lest the suspected criminal be warned.
That suggestion is refuted, first by the fact that she was at Ashford when the murder was committed, unconscious as a result of a railway accident; and the second point in her favour is that the telegram discovered by Lyne's valet, purporting to be signed by the girl, inviting Lyne to her flat at a certain hour, was not delivered to the murdered man." He rose to his feet.
"I am talking to Thornton Lyne," said she, breathing quickly, "the proprietor of Lyne's Stores, the employer of Odette Rider who draws three pounds every week from him." He was breathless with anger. "Be careful!" he gasped. "Be careful!" "I am speaking to a man whose whole life is a reproach to the very name of man!" she went on speaking rapidly.
"This hair-splitting in the matter of logical terms never did mean much in my young life," he said, "but I take it you have a hunch." Without any more to-do, Tarling told the other of the discovery he had made in Ling Chu's box, the press cuttings, descriptive of the late Mr. Lyne's conduct in Shanghai and its tragic sequel. Whiteside listened in silence.
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