"

"Wilful murder!" Milburgh's voice was high and squeaky and his shaking
hands went to his mouth. "You cannot charge me with wilful murder. No,
no, no! I swear to you I am innocent!"

"Where did you see Thornton Lyne last?" asked Tarling, and the man made
a great effort to compose himself.

"I saw him last alive in his office," he began.

"When did you see Thornton Lyne last?" asked Tarling again. "Alive or
dead."

Milburgh did not reply. Presently Whiteside dropped his hand on the man's
shoulder and looked across at Tarling.

"Come along," he said briskly. "It is my duty as a police officer to warn
you that anything you now say will be taken down and used as evidence
against you at your trial."

"Wait, wait!" said Milburgh. His voice was husky and thick. He looked
round. "Can I have a glass of water?" he begged, licking his dry lips.

Tarling brought the refreshment, which the man drank eagerly. The water
seemed to revive something of his old arrogant spirit, for he got up from
his chair, jerked at the collar of his ill-fitting coat--it was an old
shooting-coat of Tarling's--and smiled for the first time.

"I think, gentlemen," he said with something of his old airiness, "you
will have a difficulty in proving that I am concerned in the murder of
Thornton Lyne. You will have as great a difficulty in proving that I had
anything to do with the burning down of Solomon's office--I presume that
constitutes the arson charge? And most difficult of all will be your
attempt to prove that I was concerned in robbing the firm of Thornton
Lyne. The lady who robbed that firm has already made a confession, as
you, Mr. Tarling, are well aware." He smiled at the other, but Tarling
met his eye.

"I know of no confession," he said steadily.

Mr. Milburgh inclined his head with a smirk. Though he still bore the
physical evidence of the bad time through which he had been, he had
recovered something of his old confidence.

"The confession was burnt," he said, "and burnt by you, Mr. Tarling. And
now I think your bluff has gone on long enough."

"My bluff!" said Tarling, in his turn astonished. "What do you mean by
bluff?"

"I am referring to the warrant which you suggest has been issued for my
arrest," said Milburgh.

"That's no bluff." It was Whiteside who spoke, and he produced from his
pocket a folded sheet of paper, which he opened and displayed under the
eyes of the man. "And in case of accidents," said Whiteside, and