At that moment there came a knock at the door. She put down the clothes-brush which was in her hand, walked out into the hall, opened the door and stepped back. Three men stood in the passage without. Two were strangers with that curious official look which the plain-clothes policeman can never wholly eradicate from his bearing. The third was Mr. White, more pompous and more solemn than ever. "Miss Cresswell?" asked one of the strangers. "That is my name." "May we come inside? I want to see you." She led the way to her little sitting-room. Mr. White followed in the rear. "Your name is Oliva Cresswell. You were recently employed by Punsonby's, Limited, as cashier." "That is true," she said, wondering what was coming next. "Certain information was laid against you," said the spokesman, "as a result of which you were discharged from the firm this morning?" She raised her eyebrows in indignant surprise. "Information laid against me?" she said haughtily. "What do you mean?" "I mean, that a charge was made against you that you were converting money belonging to the firm to your own use. That was the charge, I believe, sir?" He turned to Mr. White. Mr. White nodded slowly. "It is a lie. It is an outrageous lie," cried the girl, turning flaming eyes upon the stout managing director of Punsonby's. "You know it's a lie, Mr. White! Thousands of pounds have passed through my hands and I have never--oh, it's cruel." "If you will only keep calm for a little while, miss," said the man, who was not unused to such outbreaks, "I will explain that at the moment of your dismissal there was no evidence against you." "No definite knowledge of your offence," murmured Mr. White. "And now?" demanded the girl. "Now we have information, miss, to the effect that three registered letters, containing in all the sum of L63----" "Fourteen and sevenpence," murmured Mr. White. "Sixty-three pounds odd," said the detective, "which were abstracted by you yesterday are concealed in this flat." "In the left-hand bottom drawer of your bureau," murmured Mr. White. "That is the definite knowledge which has come to us--it is a great pity." The girl stared from one to the other. "Three registered envelopes," she said incredulously; "in this flat?" "In the bottom drawer of your bureau," mumbled Mr. White, who stood throughout the interview with his eyes closed, his hands clasped in front of him, a picture of a man performing a most painful act of duty. "I have a warrant----" began the detective. "You need no warrant," said the girl quietly, "you are at liberty to search this flat or bring a woman to search me. I have nothing in these rooms which I am ashamed that you should see." The detective turned to his companion. "Fred," he said, "just have a look over that writing-bureau. Is it locked, miss?"