On a shelf in neat array and carefully folded, were the thin white drill suits he wore in the tropics.

His sun helmet hung on a peg, and on the opposite wall was a revolver holster hanging by a strap.

He lifted the holster.

It was empty.

He had had no doubts in his mind that the holster would be empty and closed the door with a troubled frown.
"Ling Chu," he said quietly.
"You speak me, Lieh Jen ?" said the man, putting down the spoons and rubber he was handling.
"Where is my revolver ?" "It is gone, Lieh Jen," said the man calmly.
"How long has it been gone ?" "I miss him four days," said Ling Chu calmly; "Who took it ?" demanded Tarling.
"I miss him four days," said the man.
There was an interval of silence, and Tarling nodded his head slowly.
"Very good, Ling Chu," he said, "there is no more to be said." For all his outward calm, he was distressed in mind.
Was it possible that anybody could have got into the room in Ling Chu's absence--he could only remember one occasion when they had been out together, and that was the night he had gone to the girl's flat and Ling Chu had shadowed him.
What if Ling Chu----?
He dismissed the thought as palpably absurd.