There is a wholesome rule that a police officer must not question a person whom he knows he will in all probability have to arrest. It is a rule which strictly applied would leave many mysteries unexplained, and detectives have at times to walk warily round it, taking a certain amount of risk. "You are _almost_ innocent," he repeated. "What does that mean, exactly? There are other people you are shielding? Come, Miss Noelson, there is nothing to be gained by hanging back. Do you know what this mistaken chivalry may mean? It will save no one. It may mean disgrace--ruin--the prison taint--for you. Why take the chance--the almost certainty?" He was leaning across the table with folded arms, his eyes fixed on her face. She avoided his gaze, and her hands tortured a small handkerchief. Clearly she was moved almost beyond endurance. "Oh, leave me alone," she cried. "Can't you understand, Mr. Labar. You are a decent man. I don't know what is the right thing to do. I can only tell you that I gave you that note for--for someone else. I never knew--I never realised what it all meant. I came to tell you that. You mustn't ask me anything else." He came towards her and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. "You poor child," he said, and there was genuine sympathy in his tone. "If I were your elder brother, my dear girl, I should give you the same advice that I'm offering you now. Get this off your mind. Tell me everything." "You can lock me up," she said, faintly. "It will make no difference." "But," he urged, "do you know who this man is that you are trying to protect, this notorious crook, this----" She looked at him, eyes wide open in amazement. He stopped abruptly. "I am not trying to shield any notorious criminal," she declared. "You may not know it, but Larry Hughes is one of the most dangerous men in London." She looked him straight in the eyes now. "That is the man you mentioned yesterday. When I said I did not know him I was confused. I have met him twice, or perhaps three times. He is no friend of mine--merely an acquaintance." "He is the man who engineered the burglary. He is not worth an ache of your little finger." "It is all so dreadfully mixed up," she exclaimed. "You must believe me, Mr. Labar, I hardly know him." He saw that it was scarcely worth pushing the harassed girl further for the time, and bit his lips as he tried to consider the next move. His duty, which he had seen clearly before this interview, was no less plain now. The girl should be held if only on her own admission that she was an accessory in the crime. But somehow he could not bring himself to issue the order. He tried unsuccessfully to tell himself that he was a fool to let himself be hypnotised by her. It was no use. "Well, if you won't talk, you won't," he said with a shade of gruffness in his tone. "That will do for now, Miss Noelson. I don't profess to understand you." "You mean--I can go?" she asked, hesitatingly. "You can go," he agreed.