He walked across the room to a writing cabinet which stood in one corner, and took up a small book that lay on the blotting-pad; while he turned over its pages, Aysoough, helping himself and Melky to a drink, winked at his companion with a meaning expression.
"I have not seen either Mr. Chang Li or Mr. Chen Li since the morning of the 18th November," suddenly said Yada. He threw the book back on the desk, and coming to the hearthrug, took up a position with his back to the fire and his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He nodded politely as his visitors raised their glasses to him. "Is anything the matter, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?" he asked.
Ayscough contrived to press his foot against Melky's as he gave a direct answer to this question.
"The fact of the case is, Mr. Yada," he said, "one of these two young men has been murdered! murdered, sir!"
Yada's well-defined eyebrows elevated themselves—but the rest of his face was immobile. He looked fixedly at Ayscough for a second or two—then he let out one word.
"Which?"
"According to Dr. Pittery—Chen Li," answered Ayscough. "Dr. Pittery identified him. Murdered, Mr. Yada, murdered! Knifed!—in the throat."
The reiteration of the word murdered appeared to yield the detective some sort of satisfaction—but it apparently made no particular impression on the Japanese. Again he rapped out one word.
"Where?"
"His body was found in the garden of the house they rented in Maida Vale," replied Ayscough. "Molteno
