cked act."

Tarling started.

"Do you mean to say----" he said hoarsely. "Do you mean to accuse----?"

"I accuse nobody," said Milburgh with a wide sweep of his hands. "I
merely suggest that both Miss Rider and myself are in very serious
trouble and that you have it in your power to get us safely out of this
country to one where extradition laws cannot follow."

Tarling took one step towards him and Milburgh shrank back.

"Do you accuse Miss Rider of complicity in this murder?" he demanded.

Milburgh smiled, but it was an uneasy smile.

"I make no accusation," he said, "and as to the murder?" he shrugged his
shoulders. "You will understand better when you read the contents of that
wallet which I was endeavouring to remove to a place of safety."

Tarling picked up the wallet from the table and looked at it.

"I shall see the contents of this wallet to-morrow," he said. "Locks will
present very little difficulty--"

"You can read the contents to-night," said Milburgh smoothly, and pulled
from his pocket a chain, at the end of which dangled a small bunch of
keys. "Here is the key," he said. "Unlock and read to-night."

Tarling took the key in his hand, inserted it in first one tiny lock and
then in the other. The catches snapped open and he threw back the flap.
Then a hand snatched the portfolio from him and he turned to see the
girl's quivering face and read the terror in her eyes.

"No, no!" she cried, almost beside herself, "no, for God's sake, no!"

Tarling stepped back. He saw the malicious little smile on Milburgh's
face and could have struck him down.

"Miss Rider does not wish me to see what is in this case," he said.

"And for an excellent reason," sneered Milburgh.

"Here!"

It was the girl's voice, surprisingly clear and steady. Her shaking hands
held the paper she had taken from the wallet and she thrust it toward the
detective.

"There is a reason," she said in a low voice. "But it is not the reason
you suggest."

Milburgh had gone too far. Tarling saw his face lengthen and the look of
apprehension in his cold blue eyes. Then, without further hesitation, he
opened the paper and read.

The first line took away his breath.

"THE CONFESSION OF ODETTE RIDER."

"Good God!" he muttered and read on. There were only half a dozen lines
and they were in the firm caligraphy of the girl.

"I, Odette Rider, hereby confess that for three years I have been
robbing the firm of Lyne's Stor