"Why did you come to Hertford to-night?" asked Tarling.
Again she smiled.
"To get the confession," she said simply "I knew Milburgh would keep it in the safe. I saw him when I left the hotel—he had telephoned to me and made the appointment at the shop where I slipped the detectives, and it was there that he told me——" she stopped suddenly and went red.
"He told you I was fond of you," said Tarling quietly, and she nodded.
"He threatened to take advantage of that fact, and wanted to show you the confession."
"I see," said Tarling, and heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Thank God!" he said fervently.
"For what?" she asked, looking at him in astonishment.
"That everything is clear. To-morrow I will arrest the murderer of Thornton Lyne!"
"No, no, not that," she said, and laid her hand on his shoulder, her distressed face looking into his, "surely not that. Mr. Milburgh could not have done it, he could not be so great a scoundrel."
"Who sent the wire to your mother saying you were not coming down?"