"It means," was the detective's quick interruption, "that you must tell the truth and that you need not fear me. I have talked with your mother, and I pity her son. Come, confide in me, for I believe you have been hounded into your present position." "I--I can't tell you." Great drops of perspiration showed themselves on Filbon's brow. Nick lighted a cigar. "Let me help you a little," he said easily. "You have been led into crime by a woman, and you are afraid that if you betray her your life will be attempted. Am I right?" "You are not far wrong," said the young man wearily. "Now, if you can aid me in tightening the cords about this woman, will not that furnish protection for yourself? For how can you be harmed if the person you fear is in prison?" Filbon shook his head, and then compressed his lips. He was now sorry that he had admitted anything, and he cursed his want of backbone. And he thought, bitterly: "If I hadn't been a mean, spiritless wretch, I would never have got into this mess." Nick knew the nature he had to deal with. He said quietly: "Listen to me a moment, and maybe you will find it advisable to change your mind. You are the bookkeeper and cashier of the manufacturing company of which Gabriel Leonard is president and John Dashwood is manager. You have been stealing from the company. The crime would never have been committed but for the evil prompting of a wicked woman, who, protesting love for you, would have cast you aside the moment she received the money she urged you to steal. To-night John Dashwood surprised your guilty secret. You had hidden the stolen money in the office, and you went there to get it, in pursuance of this woman's order. You did not get it, or, if you did, it was taken from you. Dashwood allowed you to go. His heart overflows with charity and--and I presume he knows your mother. As you left the elevator you saw the woman. You told her that the scheme had failed. She reproached you, cast you off. You then announced your intention to go home, get a revolver, and blow out your brains. What induced you to reconsider that determination?" Luke Filbon had listened to this clear exposition of his case in sheer amazement. "No need to keep silent longer," he said, in a husky voice. "I'll tell you all." But he did not at once begin his story. For some time he sat without speaking, his eyes on the water. What thoughts passed through his mind the detective never guessed until his account with Filbon had been closed.