“Of course!” he said. “Sit down please.”
“I hope—” began the man, “there isn’t going to be any trouble.”
“Not for you,” said Carver, “but I rather fancy there is trouble coming for somebody.”
The messenger closed the door and left them together.
Half an hour later Inspector Carver telephoned for the office stenographer, and when the harassed man with the fresh face and ill-fitting clothes left the police office after a three-hour examination, Inspector Carver had material for much cogitation.
Tab called in the ordinary way of duty and they discussed the latest tragedy, but never once did Inspector Carver make reference to his visitor of the morning. That was his secret and too precious a one, in the circumstances, to breathe to a soul.
He drove that afternoon to the detention prison where Walters was awaiting trial and had a long talk with him. Yeh Ling was in his parlour, half-way through his long weekly letter to his son, when Inspector Carver was announced. He put down his brush and gazed impassively upon the servant who had brought in the inspector’s card.
“Is this man alone?” he asked.
“Yes, Yeh Ling. There is no man with him.”
Yeh Ling tapped his white teeth with his well-manicured nails.