I have a warrant--" Mr.Milburgh's eyes narrowed--"I have a warrant to search this house." "For what ?" demanded Milburgh boldly.
"For a revolver or an automatic pistol and anything else I can find." Milburgh rose.
"You're at liberty to search the house from end to end," he said.
"Happily, it is a small one, as my salary does not allow of an expensive establishment." "Do you live here alone ?" asked Tarling.
"Quite," replied Milburgh.

"A woman comes in at eight o'clock to-morrow morning to cook my breakfast and make the place tidy, but I sleep here by myself.

I am very much hurt," he was going on.
"You will be hurt much worse," said Tarling dryly and proceeded to the search.
It proved to be a disappointing one, for there was no trace of any weapon, and certainly no trace of the little red slips which he had expected to find in Milburgh's possession.

For he was not searching for the man who had assailed him, but for the man who had killed Thornton Lyne.
He came back to the little sitting-room where Milburgh had been left with the Inspector and apparently he was unruffled by his failure.
"Now, Mr.Milburgh," he said brusquely, "I want to ask you: Have you ever seen a piece of paper like this before ?" He took a slip from his pocket and spread it on the table.

Milburgh looked hard at the Chinese characters on the crimson square, and then nodded.
"You have ?" said Tarling in surprise.
"Yes, sir," said Mr.Milburgh complacently.