Tarling spoke very little during the journey, his mind being fully occupied with the latest development of a mystery, the solution of which still evaded him.
The route through London to Scotland Yard carried him through Cavendish Place, where the nursing home was situated in which Odette Rider lay.

He stopped the car to make inquiries, and found that the girl had recovered from the frenzy of grief into which the terrible discovery of the morning had thrown her, and had fallen into a quiet sleep.
"That's good news, anyway," he said, rejoining his companion.

"I was half beside myself with anxiety." "You take a tremendous interest in Miss Rider, don't you ?" asked Whiteside dryly.
Tarling brindled, then laughed.
"Oh, yes, I take an interest," he admitted, "but it is very natural." "Why natural ?" asked Whiteside.
"Because," replied Tarling deliberately, "Miss Rider is going to be my wife." "Oh!" said Whiteside in blank amazement, and had nothing more to say.
The warrant for Milburgh's arrest was waiting for them, and placed in the hands of Whiteside for execution.
"We'll give him no time," said the officer.

"I'm afraid he's had a little too much grace, and we shall be very lucky if we find him at home." As he had suspected, the house in Camden Town was empty, and the woman who came daily to do the cleaning of the house was waiting patiently by the iron gate.

Mr.Milburgh, she told them, usually admitted her at half-past eight.