ath of Mr. Lyne, has made it all the more necessary that an
outside firm should be called in to look into the books."

"That I understand," said Tarling, "and of course, the Commissioner quite
appreciates the difficulty of your task. I've come along rather to
procure information for my own purpose as I am doubly interested----"

Sir Felix looked up sharply.

"Mr. Tarling?" he repeated, looking at the card again. "Why, of course!
I understand that letters of administration are to be applied for on your
behalf?"

"I believe that is so," said Tarling quietly. "But my interest in the
property is more or less impersonal at the moment. The manager of the
business is a Mr. Milburgh."

Sir Felix nodded.

"He has been most useful and helpful," he said. "And certainly, if the
vague rumours I have heard have any substantial foundation--namely, that
Milburgh is suspected of robbing the firm--then he is assuredly giving us
every assistance to convict himself."

"You have all the books in your keeping?"

"Absolutely," replied Sir Felix emphatically. "The last three books,
unearthed by Mr. Milburgh himself, came to us only this morning. In fact,
those are they," he pointed to a brown paper parcel standing on a smaller
table near the window. The parcel was heavily corded and was secured
again by red tape, which was sealed.

Sir Felix leaned over and pressed a bell on the table, and a clerk came
in.

"Put those books with the others in the strong-room," he said, and when
the man had disappeared, staggering under the weight of the heavy volumes
he turned to Tarling.

"We're keeping all the books and accounts of Lyne's Stores in a special
strong-room," he said. "They are all under seal, and those seals will be
broken in the presence of Mr. Milburgh, as an interested party, and a
representative of the Public Prosecutor."

"When will this be?" asked Tarling.

"To-morrow afternoon, or possibly to-morrow morning. We will notify
Scotland Yard as to the exact hour, because I suppose you will wish to be
represented."

He rose briskly, thereby ending the interview.

It was another dead end, thought Tarling, as he went out into St. Mary
Axe and boarded a westward-bound omnibus. The case abounded in these
culs-de-sac which seemed to lead nowhere. Cul-de-sac No. 1 had been
supplied by Odette Rider; cul-de-sac No. 2 might very easily lead to the
dead end of Milburgh's innocence.

He felt a sense of relief, however, that the autho