"That is unlikely," interrupted Tarling, "and I say this with due respect for your judgment, Whiteside. It would want to be something more than an ordinary criminal to carry all the details of Lyne's mammoth business in his head, and it is more than possible that your first theory was right, namely, that he contemplates either going with another firm, or starting a new business of his own. The second supposition is more likely. Anyway, it is no crime to own a ledger, or even three. By-the-way, when did he buy these books?" "Yesterday," said Whiteside, "early in the morning, before Lyne's opened. How did your interview with Miss Rider go off?" Tarling shrugged his shoulders. He felt a strange reluctance to discuss the girl with the police officer, and realised just how big a fool he was in allowing her sweetness to drug him. "I am convinced that, whoever she may suspect, she knows nothing of the murder," he said shortly. "Then she _does_ suspect somebody?" Tarling nodded. "Who?" Again Tarling hesitated. "I think she suspects Milburgh," he said. He put his hand in the inside of his jacket and took out a pocket case, opened it, and drew forth the two cards bearing the finger impressions he had taken of Odette Rider. It required more than an ordinary effort of will to do this, though he would have found it difficult to explain just what tricks his emotions were playing. "Here are the impressions you wanted," he said. "Will you take them?" Whiteside took the cards with a nod and examined the inky smudges, and all the time Tarling's heart stood still, for Inspector Whiteside was the recognised authority of the Police Intelligence Department on finger prints and their characteristics. The survey was a long one. Tarling remembered the scene for years afterwards; the sunlit path, the straggling idlers, the carriages pursuing their leisurely way along the walks, and the stiff military figure of Whiteside standing almost to attention, his keen eyes peering down at the little cards which he held in the finger-tips of both hands. Then: "Interesting," he said. "You notice that the two figures are almost the same--which is rather extraordinary. Very interesting." "Well?" asked Tarling impatiently, almost savagely. "Interesting," said Whiteside again, "but none of these correspond to the thumb prints on the bureau." "Thank God for that!" said Tarling fervently "Thank God for that!" CHAPTER XIX LING CHU TELLS THE TRUTH The firm of Dashwood and Solomon occupied a narrow-fronted building in the heart of the City of London. Its reputation stood as high as any, and it numbered amongst its clients the best houses in Britain. Both partners had been knighted, and it was Sir Felix Solomon who received Tarling in his private office. Sir Felix was a tall, good-looking man, well past middle age, rather brusque of manner but kindly withal, and he looked up over his glasses as the detective entered.