"How do you mean ?" he asked.
"It was a woman's act to put flowers on the man," said Whiteside quietly.
"Those daffodils tell me of pity and compassion, and perhaps repentance." A slow smile dawned on Tarling's face.
"My dear Whiteside," he said, "you are getting sentimental! And here," he added, looking up, "attracted to the spot, is a gentleman I seem to be always meeting--Mr.Milburgh, I think." Milburgh had stopped at the sight of the detective, and looked as if he would have been glad to have faded away unobserved.

But Tarling had seen him, and Milburgh came forward with his curious little shuffling walk, a set smile on his face, the same worried look in his eyes, which Tarling had seen once before.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said, with a flourish of his top hat.
"I suppose, Mr.Tarling, nothing has been discovered ?" "At any rate, I didn't expect to discover _you_ here this morning!" smiled Tarling.

"I thought you were busy at the Stores." Milburgh shifted uneasily.
"The place has a fascination for me," he said huskily, "I--I can't keep away from it." He dropped his eyes before Tarling's keen gaze and repeated the question.
"Is there any fresh news ?" "I ought to ask you that," said Tarling quietly.
The other looked up.
"You mean Miss Rider ?" he asked.

"No, sir, nothing has been found to her detriment and I cannot trace her present address, although I have pursued the most diligent inquiries.

It is very upsetting." There was a new emphasis in his voice.