"You'll be sorry for this," said Milburgh.
"Not half as sorry as you'll be by the time I'm through with you," retorted Tarling.
"I shall go straight to Scotland Yard," fumed the man, white with passion.
"Do, by all means," said the detective coolly, "and be good enough to ask them to detain you until I come."
With this shot he closed the door upon the retreating man.
The girl was sitting now on the edge of the sofa, her brave eyes surveying the man who loved her.
"What have you done?" she asked.
"I've destroyed that precious confession of yours," said Tarling cheerfully. "It occurred to me in the space of time it took to get from you to my wash-stand, that that confession may have been made under pressure. I am right, aren't I?"
She nodded.
"Now, you wait there a little while I make myself presentable and I'll take you home."