"In fact," said Whiteside afterwards, "his evidence would lead nowhere. At the very hour when somebody might have come into the flat--that is to say, between half-past ten and a quarter to eleven--he admits he was not on duty."
Tarling nodded. He had made a diligent search of the floor of the basement corridor through the store-room into the courtyard, but had found no trace of blood. Nor did he expect to find any such trace, since it was clear that, if the murder had been committed in the flat and the night-dress which was wound about the dead man's body was Odette Rider's, there would be no bleeding.
"Of one thing I am satisfied," he said; "if Odette Rider committed this murder she had an accomplice. It was impossible that she could have carried or dragged this man into the open and put him into the car, carried him again from the car and laid him on the grass."
"The daffodils puzzle me," said Whiteside. "Why should he be found with daffodils on his chest? And why, if he was murdered here, should she trouble to pay that tribute of her respect?"
Tarling shook his head. He was nearer a solution to the latter mystery than either of them knew.
His search of the flat completed, he drove to Hyde Park and, guided by Whiteside, made his way to the spot where the body was found. It was on a gravelled sidewalk, nearer to the grass than to the road, and Whiteside described the position of the body. Tarling looked round, and suddenly uttered an exclamation.
"I wonder," he said, pointing to a flower-bed.
"That curious," he said. "We seem to see nothing but daffodils in this murder!"
The big bed to which Tarling walked was smothered with great feathery bells that danced and swayed in the light spring breezes.
"Humph!" said Tarling. "Do you know anything about daffodils, Whiteside?"
"All daffodils are daffodils to me. Is there any difference in them? I suppose there must be."
"These are known as Golden Spurs," he said, "a kind which is very common in England. The daffodils in Miss Rider's flat are the variety known as the Emperor."
"Well," said the other slowly, "the daffodils I saw this morning which were found on Lyne's chest were Golden Spurs."
He knelt down by the side of the bed and began pushing aside the stems, examining the ground carefully.