"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. "We do not set the same value upon the rights of the individual as do you people in the West. For example," he explained carefully, "we are not tender with our prisoners, if we think that by applying a little pressure to them we can assist the process of justice." "What do you mean?" asked Milburgh, a grisly thought dawning upon his mind. "In Britain--and in America too, I understand--though the Americans are much more enlightened on this subject--when you arrest a member of a gang you are content with cross-examining him and giving him full scope for the exercise of his inventive power. You ask him questions and go on asking and asking, and you do not know whether he is lying or telling the truth." Mr. Milburgh began to breathe heavily. "Has that idea sunk into your mind?" asked Ling Chu. "I don't know what you mean," said Mr. Milburgh in a quavering voice. "All I know is that you are committing a most----" Ling Chu stopped him with a gesture. "I am perfectly well aware of what I am doing," he said. "Now listen to me. A week or so ago, Mr. Thornton Lyne, your employer, was found dead in Hyde Park. He was dressed in his shirt and trousers, and about his body, in an endeavour to stanch the wound, somebody had wrapped a silk night-dress. He was killed in the flat of a small lady, whose name I cannot pronounce, but you will know her." Milburgh's eyes never left the Chinaman's, and he nodded. "He was killed by you," said Ling Chu slowly, "because he had discovered that you had been robbing him, and you were in fear that he would hand you over to the police." "That's a lie," roared Milburgh. "It's a lie--I tell you it's a lie!" "I shall discover whether it is a lie in a few moments," said Ling Chu. He put his hand inside his blouse and Milburgh watched him fascinated, but he produced nothing more deadly than a silver cigarette-case, which he opened. He selected a cigarette and lit it, and for a few minutes puffed in silence, his thoughtful eyes fixed upon Milburgh. Then he rose and went to the cupboard and took out a larger bottle and placed it beside the other. Ling Chu pulled again at his cigarette and then threw it into the grate. "It is in the interests of all parties," he said in his slow, halting way, "that the truth should be known, both for the sake of my honourable master, Lieh Jen, the Hunter, and his honourable Little Lady." He took up his knife and bent over the terror-stricken man. "For God's sake don't, don't," half screamed, half sobbed Milburgh.