CHAPTER XV
THE OWNER OF THE PISTOL
All trace of the fog of the night before had disappeared when Tarlinglooked out from his bedroom window later that morning. The streets wereflooded with yellow sunshine, and there was a tang in the air whichbrought the colour to the cheek and light to the eye of the patientLondoner.
Tarling stretched his arms and yawned in the sheer luxury of living,before he took down his silk dressing-gown and went in to the breakfastwhich Ling Chu had laid for him.
The blue-bloused Chinaman who stood behind his master's chair, poured outthe tea and laid a newspaper on one side of the plate and letters on theother. Tarling ate his breakfast in silence and pushed away the plate.
"Ling Chu," he said in the vernacular of Lower China, "I shall lose myname as the Man Hunter, for this case puzzles me beyond any other."
"Master," said the Chinaman in the same language, "there is a time in allcases, when the hunter feels that he must stop and weep. I myself hadthis feeling when I hunted down Wu Fung, the strangler of Hankow. Yet,"he added philosophically, "one day I found him and he is sleeping on theTerrace of Night."
He employed the beautiful Chinese simile for death.
"Yesterday I found the little-young-woman," said Tarling after a pause.In this quaint way did he refer to Odette Rider.
"You may find the little-young-woman and yet not find the killer," saidLing Chu, standing by the side of the table, his hands respectfullyhidden under his sleeves. "For the little-young-woman did not kill thewhite-faced man."
"How do you know?" asked Tarling; and the Chinaman shook his head.
"The little-young-woman has no strength, master," he said. "Also it isnot known that she has skill in the driving of the quick cart."
"You mean the motor?" asked Tarling quickly, and Ling Chu nodded.
"By Jove! I never thought of that," said Tarling. "Of course, whoeverkilled Thornton Lyne must have put his body in the car and driven him tothe Park. But how do you know that she does not drive?"
"Because I have asked," said the Chinaman simply. "Many people know thelittle-young-woman at the great Stores where the white-faced man lived,and they all say that she does not drive the quick cart."
Tarling considered for a while.
"Yes, it is true talk," he said. "The little-young-woman did not kill thewhite-faced man, because she was many miles away when the murder wascommitted. That we know. The question is, who did?"
"The Hunter of Men will discover," said Ling Chu
"I wonder," said Tarling.
He dressed and went to Scotland Yard. He had an appointment withWhiteside, and later intended accompanying Odette Rider to an interviewbefore the Assistant Commissioner. Whiteside was at Scotland Yard beforehim, and when Tarling walked into his room was curiously examining anobject which lay before him on a sheet of paper. It was a short-barrelledautomatic pistol.
"Hullo!" he said, interested. "Is that the gun that killed ThorntonLyne?"
"That's the weapon," said the cheerful Whiteside. "An ugly-looking brute,isn't it?"
"Where did you say it was discovered?"
"At the bottom of the girl's work-basket."
"This has a familiar look to me," said Tarling, lifting the instrumentfrom the table. "By-the-way, is the cartridge still in the chamber?"
Whiteside shook his head.
"No, I removed it," he said. "I've taken the magazine out too."
"I suppose you've sent out the description and the number to all thegunsmiths?"
Whiteside nodded.
"Not that it's likely to be of much use," he said. "This is anAmerican-made pistol, and unless it happens to have been sold in Englandthere is precious little chance of our discovering its owner."
Tarling was looking at the weapon, turning it over and over in his hand.Presently he looked at the butt and uttered an exclamation. Followingthe direction of his eyes, Whiteside saw two deep furrows runningdiagonally across the grip.
"What are they?" he asked.
"They look like two bullets fired at the holder of the revolver someyears ago, which missed him but caught the butt."
Whiteside laughed.
"Is that a piece of your deduction, Mr. Tarling?" he asked.
"No," said Tarling, "that is a bit of fact. That pistol is my own!"