"Of course, gentlemen," said Milburgh, "I do not for one moment admit that I robbed the firm, or that I was guilty of any criminal acts. I admit there were certain irregularities, certain carelessnesses, for which I was morally responsible; and beyond that I admit nothing. If you are making a note"--he turned to Whiteside, who was taking down the statement in shorthand, "I beg of you to make a special point of my denial. Irregularities and carelessnesses," he repeated carefully. "Beyond that I am not prepared to go." "In other words, you are not confessing anything?" "I am not confessing anything," agreed Mr. Milburgh with heavy gravity. "It is sufficient that Mr. Lyne suspected me, and that he was prepared to employ a detective in order to trace my defalcations, as he termed them. It is true that I lived expensively, that I own two houses, one in Camden Town and one at Hertford; but then I had speculated on the Stock Exchange and speculated very wisely. "But I am a sensitive man, gentlemen; and the knowledge that I was responsible for certain irregularities preyed upon my mind. Let us say, for example, that I knew somebody had been robbing the firm, but that I was unable to detect that somebody. Would not the fact that I was morally responsible for the finances of Lyne's Stores cause me particular unhappiness?" "You speak like a book," said Whiteside, "and I for one don't believe a word you say. I think you were a thief, Milburgh; but go on your own sweet way." "I thank you," said Mr. Milburgh sarcastically. "Well, gentlemen, matters had come to a crisis. I felt my responsibility. I knew somebody had been robbing the house and I had an idea that possibly I would be suspected, and that those who were dear to me"--his voice shook for a moment, broke, and grew husky--"those who were dear to me," he repeated, "would be visited with my sins of omission. "Miss Odette Rider had been dismissed from the firm of Lyne's Stores in consequence of her having rejected the undesirable advances of the late Mr. Lyne. Mr. Lyne turned the whole weight of his rage against this girl, and that gave me an idea. "The night after the interview--or it may have been the same night--I refer to the interview which Mr. Tarling had with the late Thornton Lyne--I was working late at the office. I was, in fact, clearing up Mr. Lyne's desk. I had occasion to leave the office, and on my return found the place in darkness. I re-connected the light, and then discovered on the desk a particularly murderous looking revolver. "In the statement I made to you, sir," he turned to Tarling, "I said that that pistol had not been found by me; and indeed, I professed the profoundest ignorance of its existence. I regret to confess to you that I was telling an untruth. I did find the pistol; I put it in my pocket and I took it home. It is probable that with that pistol Mr. Lyne was fatally shot." Tarling nodded.