"I want to ask you a question, Mr. Yada," said Ayscough, bending forward and assuming an air of confidence. "When did you see those two gentlemen last--either of them?" Yada leaned back in his comfortably padded chair and cast his quick eyes towards the ceiling. Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "You take a little drop of whisky-and-soda?" he said hospitably, pushing a clean glass towards Ayscough. "Yes--I will get another glass for your friend, too. Help yourselves, please, then--I will look in my diary for an answer to your question. You excuse me, one moment." He walked across the room to a writing cabinet which stood in one corner, and took up a small book that lay on the blotting-pad; while he turned over its pages, Ayscough, helping himself and Melky to a drink, winked at his companion with a meaning expression. "I have not seen either Mr. Chang Li or Mr. Chen Li since the morning of the 18th November," suddenly said Yada. He threw the book back on the desk, and coming to the hearthrug, took up a position with his back to the fire and his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He nodded politely as his visitors raised their glasses to him. "Is anything the matter, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?" he asked. Ayscough contrived to press his foot against Melky's as he gave a direct answer to this question. "The fact of the case is, Mr. Yada," he said, "one of these two young men has been murdered! murdered, sir!" Yada's well-defined eyebrows elevated themselves--but the rest of his face was immobile. He looked fixedly at Ayscough for a second or two--then he let out one word. "Which?" "According to Dr. Pittery--Chen Li," answered Ayscough. "Dr. Pittery identified him. Murdered, Mr. Yada, murdered! Knifed!--in the throat." The reiteration of the word murdered appeared to yield the detective some sort of satisfaction--but it apparently made no particular impression on the Japanese. Again he rapped out one word. "Where?" "His body was found in the garden of the house they rented in Maida Vale," replied Ayscough. "Molteno Lodge. No doubt you've visited them there, Mr. Yada?" "I have been there--yes, a few times," assented Yada. "Not very lately. But--where is Chang Li?" "That's what we don't know--and what we want to know," said Ayscough. "He's not been seen at the hospital since the 20th. He didn't turn up there--nor Chen, either, at a class, that day. And you say you haven't seen them either since the 18th?" "I was not at the hospital on the 19th," replied Yada. He threw away the end of his cigar, picked up a fresh one from a box which stood on the table, pushed the box towards his visitors, and drew out a silver match-box. "What are the facts of this murder, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?" he asked quietly. "Murder is not done without some object--as a rule."