I’m not going to ask you any more
“I’m not going to ask you any more,” he said quietly. “You know best why you came to me to-night–I suppose you followed me and took a room. I heard somebody going upstairs soon after I arrived.”
She nodded.
“Do you want–this?” she asked and pointed to the wallet on the table.
“Take it away with you.”
She got up to her feet unsteadily and swayed toward him. In a second he was by her side, his arms about her. She made no resistance, but rather he felt a yielding towards him which he had missed before. Her pale face was upturned to his and he stooped and kissed her.
“Odette! Odette!” he whispered. “Don’t you realise that I love you and would give my life to save you from unhappiness? Won’t you tell me everything, please?”
“No, no, no,” she murmured with a little catch in her voice. “Please don’t ask me! I am afraid. Oh, I am afraid!”
He crushed her in his arms, his cheek against hers, his lips tingling with the caress of her hair.
“But there is nothing to be afraid of, nothing,” he said eagerly. “If you were as guilty as hell, I would save you! If you are shielding somebody I would shield them because I love you, Odette!”
“No, no!” she cried and pushed him back, both her little hands pressing against his chest. “Don’t ask me, don’t ask me—-”
“Ask me!”
Tarling swung round. There was a man standing in the doorway, in the act of closing the door behind him.
“Milburgh!” he said between his teeth.
“Milburgh!” smiled the other mockingly. “I am sorry to interrupt this beautiful scene, but the occasion is a desperate one and I cannot afford to stand on ceremony, Mr. Tarling.”
Tarling put the girl from him and looked at the smirking manager. One comprehensive glance the detective gave him, noted the cycling clips and the splashes of mud on his trousers, and understood.
“So you were the cyclist, eh?” he said.
“That’s right,” said Milburgh, “it is an exercise to which I am very partial.”
“What do you want?” asked Tarling, alert and watchful.
“I want you to carry out your promise, Mr. Tarling,” said Milburgh smoothly.
Tarling stared at him.
“My promise,” he said, “what promise?”
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