“That is my oriental mystery,” said the Chinaman calmly. “One reads about such things. ‘For ways that are dark and for ways that are strange--’ you know the stanza?” Tab went away with an amused feeling that Yeh Ling had been laughing at him, but he had been serious enough when he had been talking about the murder; of that Tab was sure. Long before he reached the house he saw Ursula Ardfern. She was standing in the middle of the road opposite her gate, waving her hand to him, a dainty figure in grey, her flushed face shaded by a large garden hat. “I’m such an expert shot, now,” she said gaily as he jumped off, “that I thought of putting a few long range ones in your direction to see how you looked when you were scared.” “I’m glad you didn’t, if Yeh Ling’s uncomplimentary reference to your shooting is justified,” he said as he tucked her hand under his arm. “Have you seen Yeh Ling? And was he very rude about my marksmanship?” “He said you are a danger to life and property,” said Tab gravely, and she laughed. “You would manage your bicycle better if you used both hands,” she said, releasing her own. “I want you to see my heliotrope. I have to keep it in a garden by itself; it is a cannibal plant, it kills all the other flowers. How could you spare time to come down?” she asked, her voice changing, “aren’t you very busy?” Tab shook his head. “I have been instructed to get very busy indeed,” he said grimly. “Over this last case?” “I can do no more than the police are doing,” he said, “and Carver seems to have lost hope, though he is a deceptive bird.” “No clue of any kind has been discovered?” Tab hesitated here. He had promised Carver that he would not speak of the new pins, but perhaps the restriction was confined only to the printed word. “The only clues we have,” he said as he sat down by her side under the big maple, “are two very bright and very new pins which we found, one in the passage after the first murder, and one just inside the vault after the second. Both were slightly bent.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Two pins?” she repeated slowly. “How strange--have you any idea of the use that was made of them?” Tab had no idea, neither had Carver. “The murderer was, of course, the Man in Black,” she said. “I read an account of the case, particularly Mr. Stott’s statement--he is the scared little man who ran away when Yeh Ling and I went to search the house for our papers. Yes, I say ‘our’ advisedly.” “By-the-way, did Yeh Ling really find what he wanted?” She nodded. “And what you wanted?” She bit her lips. “I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes I think he did and is keeping it from me. He swears that there was nothing of interest to me, but I believe he is being--kindly reticent. Some day I am going to have it out with him.” The hand that was nearest to him was playing with a twig on the seat, and summoning his courage, he took it in his own and she did not resist.