, and the detective lost no time in
making his way to the Stores. The topographical situation was as Ling Chu
had described it. Tarling went to the back of the big block of buildings,
into the small, quiet street of which Ling Chu had spoken, and was able
to distinguish the iron rain pipe (one of many) up which the Chinaman had
clambered. Ling Chu would negotiate that task without any physical
distress. He could climb like a cat, as Tarling knew, and that part of
his story put no great tax upon the detective's credulity.

He walked back to the front of the shop, passed the huge plate-glass
windows, fringed now with shoppers with whom Lyne's Store had acquired
a new and morbid interest, and through the big swinging doors on to the
crowded floor. Mr. Milburgh was in his office, said a shop-walker, and led
the way.

Mr. Milburgh's office was much larger and less ornate than his late
employer's. He greeted Tarling effusively, and pushed an arm-chair
forward and produced a box of cigars.

"We're in rather a turmoil and upset now, Mr. Tarling," he said in
his ingratiating voice, with that set smile of his which never
seemed to leave his face. "The auditors--or rather I should say the
accountants--have taken away all the books, and of course that imposes
a terrible strain on me, Mr. Tarling. It means that we've got to organise
a system of interim accounts, and you as a business man will understand
just what that means."

"You work pretty hard, Mr. Milburgh?" said Tarling.

"Why, yes, sir," smiled Milburgh. "I've always worked hard."

"You were working pretty hard before Mr. Lyne was killed, were you not?"
asked Tarling.

"Yes----" hesitated Milburgh. "I can say honestly that I was."

"Very late at night?"

Milburgh still smiled, but there was a steely look in his eye as he
answered:

"Frequently I worked late at night."

"Do you remember the night of the eleventh?" asked Tarling.

Milburgh looked at the ceiling for inspiration.

"Yes, I think I do. I was working very late that night."

"In your own office?"

"No," replied the other readily, "I did most of my work in Mr. Lyne's
office--at his request," he added. A bold statement to make to a man
who knew that Lyne suspected him of robbing the firm. But Milburgh was
nothing if not bold.

"Did he also give you the key of his desk?" asked the detective dryly.

"Yes, sir," beamed Mr. Milburgh, "of course he did! You see, Mr. Lyne
trusted me absolutely."

He