The Daffodil Mystery

e strangest combination ever seen in man.Thornton Lyne was a store-keeper, a Bachelor of Arts, the winner of the Mangate Science Prize and the author of a slim volume

m have his own way. Only there were at least two people with whom Thornton Lyne's millions carried no weight.It was warm in his limousine, which was electrically heated. But outside, on that raw April morning, it was bitterly cold, and the shivering little group of women who stood at a respectful distance from the prison gates, drew their shawls tightly about them as errant flakes of snow whirled across the open. The common was covered with a white powder, and the early flowers looked supremely miserable in their wintry setting.The prison clock struck eight, and a wicket-gate opened. A man slouched out, his jacket buttoned up to his neck, his cap pulled over his eyes. At sight of him, Lyne dropped the newspaper he had been reading, opened the door of the car and jumped out, walking towards the released prisoner."Well, Sam," he said, genially "you didn't expect me?"The man stopped as if he had been shot, and stood staring at the fur-coated figure. Then:"Oh, Mr. Lyne," he said brokenly. "Oh, guv'nor!" he choked, and tears streamed down his face, and he gripped the outstretched hand in both of his, unable to speak."You didn't think I'd desert you, Sam, eh?" said Mr. Lyne, all aglow with consciousness of his virtue."I thought you'd given me up, sir," said Sam Stay huskily. "You're a gentleman, you are, sir, and I ought to be ashamed of myself!""Nonsense, nonsense, Sam! Jump into the car, my lad. Go along. People will think you're a millionaire."The man gulped, grinned sheepishly, opened the door and stepped in, and sank with a sigh of comfort into the luxurious depths of the big brown cushions."Gawd! To think that there are men like you in the world, sir! Why, I believe in angels, I do!""Nonsense Sam. Now you come along to my flat, and I'm going to give you a good breakfast and start you fair again.""I'm going to try and keep straight, sir, I am s'help me!"It may be said in truth that Mr. Lyne did not care very much whether Sam kept straight or not. He might indeed have been very much disappointed if Sam had kept to the straight and narrow path. He "kept" Sam as men keep chickens and prize cows, and he "collected" Sam as other men collect stamps and china. Sam was his luxury and his pose. In his club he boasted of his acquaintance with this representative of the criminal classes--for Sam was an expert burglar and knew no other trade--and Sam's adoration for him was one of his most exhilarating experiences.And that adoration was genuine. Sam would have laid down his life for the pale-faced man with the loose mouth. He would have suffered himself to be torn limb from limb if in his agony he could have brought ease or advancement to the man who, to him, was one with the gods.Originally, Thornton Lyne had found Sam whilst that artist wa