Then he heard the creak of a board and it came from the direction of the door leading to the sitting-room. With one bound he was out of bed in time to see the door flung open and a figure slip through. He was after it in a second. The burglar might have escaped, but unexpectedly there was a crash and a cry. He had fallen over a chair and before he could rise Tarling was on him and had flung him back. He leapt to the door, it was open. He banged it close and turned the key. "Now, let's have a look at you," said Tarling grimly and switched on the light. He fell back against the door, his mouth open in amazement, for the intruder was Odette Rider, and in her hand she held the stolen wallet. CHAPTER XXIV THE CONFESSION OF ODETTE RIDER He could only gaze in stupified silence. "You!" he said wonderingly. The girl was pale and her eyes never left his face. She nodded. "Yes, it is I," she said in a low voice. "You!" he said again and walked towards her. He held out his hand and she gave him the wallet without a word. "Sit down," he said kindly. He thought she was going to faint. "I hope I didn't hurt you? I hadn't the slightest idea----" She shook her head. "Oh, I'm not hurt," she said wearily, "not hurt in the way you mean." She drew a chair to the table and dropped her face upon her hands and he stood by, embarrassed, almost terrified, by this unexpected development. "So you were the visitor on the bicycle," he said at last. "I didn't suspect----" It struck him at that moment that it was not an offence for Odette Rider to go up to her mother's house on a bicycle, or even to take away a wallet which was probably hers. If there was any crime at all, he had committed it in retaining something to which he had no right. She looked up at his words. "I? On the bicycle?" she asked. "No, it was not I." "Not you?" She shook her head. "I was in the grounds--I saw you using your lamp and I was quite close to you when you picked up the wallet," she said listlessly, "but I was not on the bicycle." "Who was it?" he asked. She shook her head. "May I have that please?" She held out her hand and he hesitated. After all, he had no right or title to this curious purse. He compromised by putting it on the table and she did not attempt to take it. "Odette," he said gently and walked round to her, laying his hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you tell me?" "Tell you what?" she asked, without looking up. "Tell me all there is to be told," he said. "I could help you. I want to help you." She looked up at him. "Why do you want to help me?" she asked simply. He was tongue-tied for a second. "Because I love you," he said, and his voice shook.