He looked round.

"Can I have a glass of water ?" he begged, licking his dry lips.
Tarling brought the refreshment, which the man drank eagerly.

The water seemed to revive something of his old arrogant spirit, for he got up from his chair, jerked at the collar of his ill-fitting coat--it was an old shooting-coat of Tarling's--and smiled for the first time.
"I think, gentlemen," he said with something of his old airiness, "you will have a difficulty in proving that I am concerned in the murder of Thornton Lyne.

You will have as great a difficulty in proving that I had anything to do with the burning down of Solomon's office--I presume that constitutes the arson charge?
And most difficult of all will be your attempt to prove that I was concerned in robbing the firm of Thornton Lyne.

The lady who robbed that firm has already made a confession, as you, Mr.Tarling, are well aware." He smiled at the other, but Tarling met his eye.
"I know of no confession," he said steadily.
Mr.Milburgh inclined his head with a smirk.