CHAPTER XXXIV

  THE ARREST

  Tarling stooped down and released the cords which bound Milburgh to thecouch. The stout man was white and shaking, and had to be lifted into asitting position. He sat there on the edge of the bed, his face in hishands, for five minutes, and the two men watched him curiously. Tarlinghad made a careful examination of the cuts on his chest, and was relievedto discover that Ling Chu--he did not doubt that the Chinaman wasresponsible for Milburgh's plight--had not yet employed that terribletorture which had so often brought Chinese criminals to the verge ofmadness.

  Whiteside picked up the clothes which Ling Chu had so systematicallystripped from the man's body, and placed them on the bed by Milburgh'sside. Then Tarling beckoned the other into the outer room.

  "What does it all mean?" asked Whiteside.

  "It means," said Tarling grimly, "that my friend, Ling Chu, has beentrying to discover the murderer of Thornton Lyne by methods peculiarlyChinese. Happily he was interrupted, probably as a result of Milburghtelling him that Miss Odette Rider had been spirited away."

  He looked back to the drooping figure by the side of the bed.

  "He's a little bigger than I," he said, "but I think some of my clotheswill fit him."

  He made a hasty search of his wardrobe and came back with an armful ofclothes.

  "Come, Milburgh," he said, "rouse yourself and dress."

  The man looked up, his lower lip trembling pathetically.

  "I rather think these clothes, though they may be a bad fit, will suityou a little better than your clerical garb," said Tarling sardonically.

  Without a word, Milburgh took the clothes in his arms, and they left himto dress. They heard his heavy footfall, and presently the door openedand he came weakly into the sitting-room and dropped into a chair.

  "Do you feel well enough to go out now?" asked Whiteside.

  "Go out?" said Milburgh, looking up in alarm. "Where am I to go?"

  "To Cannon Row Police Station," said the practical Whiteside. "I have awarrant for your arrest, Milburgh, on a charge of wilful murder, arson,forgery, and embezzlement."

  "Wilful murder!" Milburgh's voice was high and squeaky and his shakinghands 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 madea 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 ordead."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "That's no bluff." It was Whiteside who spoke, and he produced from hispocket a folded sheet of paper, which he opened and displayed under theeyes of the man. "And in case of accidents," said Whiteside, and deftlyslipped a pair of handcuffs upon the man's wrists.

  It may have been Milburgh's overweening faith in his own genius. It mayhave been, and probably was, a consciousness that he had covered histrail too well to be detected. One or other of these causes had kept himup, but now he collapsed. To Tarling it was amazing that the man hadmaintained this show of bravado to the last, though in his heart he knewthat the Crown had a very poor case against Milburgh if the charge ofembezzlement and arson were proceeded with. It was on the murder alonethat a conviction could be secured; and this Milburgh evidently realised,for he made no attempt in the remarkable statement which followed to domore than hint that he had been guilty of robbing the firm. He sathuddled up in his chair, his manacled hands clasped on the table beforehim, and then with a jerk sat upright.

  "If you'll take off these things, gentlemen," he said, jangling theconnecting chain of the handcuffs, "I will tell you something which mayset your mind at rest on the question of Thornton Lyne's death."

  Whiteside looked at his superior questioningly, and Tarling nodded. A fewseconds later the handcuffs had been removed, and Mr. Milburgh wassoothing his chafed wrists.

  The psychologist who attempted to analyse the condition of mind in whichTarling found himself would be faced with a difficult task. He had cometo the flat beside himself with anxiety at the disappearance of OdetteRider. He had intended dashing into his rooms and out again, though whathe intended doing thereafter he had no idea. The knowledge that Ling Chuwas on the track of the kidnapper had served as an opiate to his jaggednerves; otherwise he could not have stayed and listened to the statementMilburgh was preparing to make.

  Now and again it came back to him, like a twinge of pain, that OdetteRider was in danger; and he wanted to have done with this business, tobundle Milburgh into a prison cell, and devote the whole of his energiesto tracing her. Such a twinge came to him now as he watched the stoutfigure at the table.

  "Before you start," he said, "tell me this: What information did you giveto Ling Chu which led him to leave you?"

  "I told him about Miss Rider," said Milburgh, "and I advanced atheory--it was only a theory--as to what had happened to her."

  "I see," said Tarling. "Now tell your story and tell it quickly, myfriend, and try to keep to the truth. Who murdered Thornton Lyne?"

  Milburgh twisted his head slowly towards him and smiled.

  "If you could explain how the body was taken from Odette Rider's flat,"he said slowly, "and left in Hyde Park, I could answer you immediately.For to this minute, I believe that Thornton Lyne was killed by OdetteRider."

  Tarling drew a long breath.

  "That is a lie," he said.

  Mr. Milburgh was in no way put out.

  "Very well," he said. "Now, perhaps you will be kind enough to listen tomy story."