It was here that the man from Shanghai had established his detective agency, and here he waited with the phlegmatic Whiteside for the return of the detective he had sent to withdraw Sam Stay from his shadower.
The man shuffled into the room, looked resentfully from one to the other, nodded to both, and declined the chair which was pushed forward for him.
His head was throbbing in an unaccountable way, as it had never throbbed before.

There were curious buzzes and noises in his ears.

It was strange that he had not noticed this until he came into the quiet room, to meet the grave eyes of a hard-faced man, whom he did not remember having seen before.
"Now, Stay," said Whiteside, whom at least the criminal recognised, "we want to hear what you know about this murder." Stay pressed his lips together and made no reply.
"Sit down," said Tarling, and this time the man obeyed.

"Now, my lad," Tarling went on--and when he was in a persuasive mood his voice was silky--"they tell me that you were a friend of Mr.Lyne's." Sam nodded.
"He was good to you, was he not ?" "Good ?" The man drew a deep breath.

"I'd have given my heart and soul to save him from a minute's pain, I would, sir! I'm telling you straight, and may I be struck dead if I'm lying! He was an angel on earth--my God, if ever I lay me hands on that woman, I'll strangle her.