She paused on the half landing and looked down at the two men.
“I’m afraid they won’t be quite—that.”
Monty crept to the foot of the stairway and made certain she was passed out of hearing. “Steve,” he said earnestly, “she’s gone now to get into your room.”
“No, she hasn’t,” Denby protested, knowing he was lying.
Monty looked at his friend in wonderment. Usually Denby was quick of observation, but now he seemed uncommonly dull.
“Why, she never made a move to leave until she knew I’d put the pouch in the drawer. Then she said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You must have noticed how she took in everything you said. She’s even taken to watching me, too. What makes you so blind, Steve?”
“I’m not blind,” Denby said, a trifle irritably. “It happens you are magnifying things, till everything you see is wrong.”
“Nonsense,” Monty returned bluntly. “If she gets that necklace it’s all up with us, and you needn’t pretend otherwise.”
“Make your mind easy,” Denby exclaimed, “she won’t get it.”
“May I ask what’s going to stop her?” Monty inquired, goaded into sarcasm. “Do you think she needs to know the combination of an ordinary lock like that top drawer?”
“The necklace isn’t there,” Denby said.
Monty looked at him piteously. “For Heaven’s sake don’t tell me I’ve got it somewhere on me!”
Denby drew it out of a false pocket under the right lapel of his coat and held the precious string up to the other’s view. “That’s why,” he observed.
“Then everything’s all right,” Monty cried with unrestrained joy.
“Everything’s all wrong,” Denby corrected.
“But, Steve,” Monty said reproachfully, “the necklace—”
“Oh, damn the necklace!” Denby interrupted viciously.
Monty shook his head mournfully. His friend’s aberrations were astounding.
“Steve,” he said slowly, “you’re a fool!”
“I guess I am,” the other admitted. “But,” he added, snapping his teeth together, “I’m not such a fool as to get caught, Monty, so pull yourself together, something’s bound to happen before long.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” sighed Monty.
ON the way to her room Ethel Cartwright met Michael Harrington, a box of cigars in his hand, coming toward the head of the stairway.
“Whither away?” he demanded.
“To bed,” she returned. “The excitement’s been too much for me.”
“This box,” he said, lovingly caressing it, “contains what I think are the best that can be smoked.” He opened and showed what seemed to her cigars of a very large size. “I’m going to give the boys one apiece as a reward for bravery.” He laughed with glee. “And as Lambart is going to be one of the search party, I’m going to give him one, too. He’ll either leave at my temerity in offering him the same kind of weed his employer smokes, or else he’ll have it framed.”
“A search party?” she said. “What do you mean?”
“We’re going to beat the bushes for tramps,” he said. “I am directing operations from the balcony outside my room. The general in command,” he explained,“never gets on the firing-line in modern warfare.”
“Is Mr. Denby going?” she asked.
“No, no,” he said. “I can’t expect my guests to expose themselves to the risk of being shot. Don’t you be alarmed,” he said solicitously, “I shall be at hand in case of trouble.”
When she reached her room she sat motionless for a few moments on the edge of the bed. Then suddenly, she rose and walked along a corridor and knocked at the door of the room she knew was Alice Harrington’s.
“Alice,” she said nervously, and there was no doubt in the elder woman’s mind that the girl was thoroughly upset, “I’m nervous of sleeping in the room you’ve given me. Can’t I sleep somewhere near people? Let me have that room I had the last time I was here.”
“Why, my dear girl, of course, if you want it,” Alice said sympathetically. “But it isn’t as pretty, and I especially had this bigger room for you. Don’t be a silly little girl; you’ll be asleep in five minutes. Better still, I’ll come and read till you’re drowsy.”
“Please humor me,” the other pleaded. “I’d rather be where, if I scream, someone can hear, and the men are sleeping down there, and one after all does depend on them in emergencies.”
“All right,” Alice said good-humoredly, “I’ll ring for the servants to take your things in.”
“We can do it,” Ethel said eagerly. “I’ve only one cabin trunk, and it weighs nothing. Why disturb them?”
When they had moved the baggage down the halls to the smaller room, there was no key to lock the door which led to a connecting room.
“Whose is that?” Ethel demanded.
“Mr. Denby’s,” she was told. “I always give men big rooms, because they’re so untidy. Michael will know where the key is. He has every one of the hundred keys with a neat label on it. He’s so methodical in some things. By the time you’re ready for bed I’ll have it.”
A few minutes later the intervening door was safely locked and Mrs. Harrington had left the girl, feeling that perhaps she, too, would be nervous if she had not her Michael close at hand.
Directly the girl was alone she sprang out of bed and hurriedly put on a white silk negligée. So far her plans had prospered admirably. The bedroom from which she had moved was so situated that if she were to undertake the search of Denby’s room, she must pass the rooms of her host and hostess and also that of Nora Rutledge. And this search was imperative.Out in the darkness Taylor and his men were waiting impatiently. Presently a band of men, armed in all probability, would sally forth from the house and might just as likely capture the Customs officers. Supposing Taylor took this as treachery on her part and denounced her before the Harringtons? Nothing would save Amy then.
If only she could discover the necklace and give the signal in time so that the deputy-surveyor could come legitimately into the house! She told herself that she must control this growing nervousness; that her movements must be swift and sure, and that she must banish all thought of the man she had met in Paris, or the punishment that would be his.
Fortunately his guests could not escape Michael and his big cigars; and cigars, as she knew from her father’s use of them, are not consumed as a cigarette may be and thrown quickly away.
The key turned in the lock stiffly and it seemed to her, waiting breathless, that the sound must be audible everywhere. But as quiet still ruled outside in the corridors, she pushed the door half-open and peered into the room. It was dark save for the moonlight, but she could see to make her way to a writing-table, on which was an electric lamp.
She turned it on and then looked about her nervously.It was a large, well-furnished room, and to the right of her a big alcove with a bed in it. There was a large French window leading to the balcony which Taylor had noted and proposed to use if she were successful in her search.
She did not dare to look out, for fear the search party might see her, so she centered her attention upon the locked drawer in which the necklace was awaiting her. There was a brass paper-knife lying on the table, heavy enough she judged, to pry open any ordinary lock. Very cautiously she set about her work. It called for more strength than she had supposed, but the lock seemed to be yielding gradually when there fell upon her anxious ear sounds of footsteps coming down the corridor.
She sprang to her feet and listened intently, and was satisfied herself that she was in imminent danger. Putting out the light she turned to run to her room, and in doing so knocked the paper-knife to the floor. To her excited fancy it clattered hideously as it fell, but she reached her room safely and locked the door.
She was hardly in shelter before Denby came into his room and switched on the light. He was still smoking the first third of his host’s famous cigar. He sauntered to the window and looked over the lawn andwondered what luck the searchers would have. He had permitted himself to be urged by Harrington to a course of inactivity. It was not his wish to be brought face to face with his enemy while he had the jewels in a place they would instantly detect. He took the pearls from their hiding-place and threw them carelessly on the table. Then seeing the paper-knife on the floor he stooped to pick it up. But lying near it were little splinters of white wood that instantly arrested his attention. He knelt down, lit a match, and examined them without disturbing them in any way. And then his eyes travelled upward, until the scratches by the lock were plain.
Experience told him plainly that the drawer had been attempted and that recently, in fact, within a half-hour since Monty had placed his pouch there with the pearls as he supposed in it.
While he was standing there motionless, sounds in the hall outside disturbed him. Presently a knock sounded on the door. Before answering he picked up the pearls and placed them in his pocket. Then he called out: “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” came Monty’s voice in answer.
“Come in,” he called.
Monty entered nervously. “Everything all right?” he demanded.
“Yes,” his friend said, and then looked at him. Monty’s appearance was slightly dishevelled. “What’s happened?” he asked.
Monty ignored the question. “I was afraid everything might be all wrong,” he cried. “This is the first time I’ve been able to swallow comfortably for an hour. I thought my heart was permanently dislocated.”
“What’s been happening downstairs?” Denby inquired.
“Nothing,” Monty told him, “and it’s the limit to have nothing happen.”
“I thought Harrington was organizing a search party.”
“Oh, we searched,” Monty admitted. “I was nominally in charge, but Lambart was the directing genius. He was an officer’s orderly in his youth and is some tactician, believe me.” Monty pointed to his muddied knees. “He stretched clothes-lines over the paths to catch the tramps, and I was the first victim. We looked everywhere, all of us, Lambart, the under-butler, two chauffeurs and I, and we didn’t even flush a cat.”
“That’s odd,” his listener commented. “They’ll be back. They’re not frightened away by you fellows with lanterns. They’ll be back.”
“I bet they will,” Monty grumbled, “and with the militia.”
“Don’t lose your nerve now, old man,” Denby counselled.
“I wish I could,” Monty cried. “This certainly is getting on it. It’s a lesson not to get discontented with my lot. I’ve got that creepy feeling all the time that they’re coming closer to us.”
“But that’s the real sport of it,” Denby pointed out.
“Sport be damned,” he said crossly. “Your ideas about foxes and mine don’t coincide. I don’t think he likes being hunted. And at that he’s got something on us; he knows who’s chasing him.”
“So shall we soon,” he was reminded.
“Yes,” Monty grumbled, “when we’re shot full of holes.”
“Don’t be afraid of getting shot at,” Denby said smiling. “You amateurs have no idea how few shots hit the mark even at short range. I’ve been shot at three times and I’ve not a scar to show.”
“Job must be your favorite author,” Monty commented sourly. “I hate the noise. I’m scared to death; I thought I wanted excitement, but life on a farm for me hereafter.”
“But, my dear boy,” Denby said more seriously,“you are not in this. They’re after me and this.” He held up the necklace. “You’re a spectator merely.”
“Rot!” Monty cried. “I’m what they call an accessory and if you think I’m going to clear out now, all I can say is you ought to know me better than that. I want to be doing something; it’s the talking that gets on my nerves. They’ll be here soon, you may bet on that. They’re going to search this room.”
“Somebody’s done that already,” he was told.
“Who?” Monty cried anxiously. “That girl?”
“I think not. Her room is in the other wing, as I found out indirectly. To come here she’d have to run an awful risk. If she comes it will be later, when everyone is asleep.”
“Then who could it have been?” Monty demanded. He turned suddenly on his heel.
There was someone even now listening at the door. Then there was a faint, discreet knock. He dropped into the nearest chair and looked at the other man with a blanched face.
“Pinched!” he cried.
“Hsh!” the other commanded softly, and then louder: “Come in.”
The smiling face of Michael Harrington beamed upon them. In his hands he carried a tray whereon two generous highballs reposed.
“Hello, boys,” he cried genially, “I’ve brought up those two nightcaps I promised you. Nothing like ’em after excitement such as we’ve had.”
“You never looked so good to me, Michael,” Monty cried affectionately.
“Now, Denby,” Michael said, handing him the glass in Lambart’s best manner.
“Thanks, all the same,” his guest returned, “but I don’t think I will—not yet at any rate.”
“Good!” Michael cried. “Luck’s with me.” He drained the glass with the deepest satisfaction. “Ah, that was needed. Now, Monty, after your exertions you won’t disappoint me?”
“Not for me, either,” Monty exclaimed.
“Splendid,” said the gratified Michael. “At your age I would have refused it absolutely.” He looked at the glass affectionately. “I’ll take the encore in a few minutes. Alice does cut me down so dreadfully. Just one light one before dinner—mostly Vermouth—and one drink afterward. I welcome any extra excitement like this.”
“Aren’t you master in your own house?” Denby asked smiling. He had fathomed the secret of the happy relations of his host and hostess, and was not deceived by Harrington when he represented himself the sport of circumstances.
“You bet I’m not,” said Michael, without resentment. “By the way,” he added, “if you want your nightcaps later, ring for Lambart. He’s used to being summoned at any hour.”
“I won’t forget,” Denby returned.
“I hope you won’t,” his host assured him. “I’d hate to think of Lambart having a really good night’s rest.” He pointed to an alarm on the wall by the door. “But don’t get up half asleep and push that red thing over there.”
“What on earth is it?” Monty asked. “It looks like a hotel fire-alarm—‘Break the glass in case of fire.’”
“It’s a burglar-alarm that wakes the whole house.”
“What?” Denby cried, suddenly interested. “You don’t really expect burglars?”
“I know it’s funny,” Michael said, “and a bit old maidish, but I happen to be vice-president of the New York Burglar Insurance Company, and I’ve got to have their beastly patents in the house to show my faith in ’em.”
“I’ll keep away from it,” Denby assured him, looking at it curiously.
“The last man who had this room sent it off by mistake. Said a mosquito worried him so much that he threw a shoe at it. He missed the mosquito—betweenyou and me,” Michael said confidentially, “we haven’t any out here at Westbury—but he hit the alarm. I’m afraid Hazen had been putting too many nightcaps on his head and couldn’t see straight. Mrs. Harrington made me search the whole house. Of course there wasn’t anyone there and Alice seemed sorry that I’d had my hunt in vain. The beauty of these things,” the vice-president commented, “is that they warn the burglars to get out and so you don’t get shot as you might if you hadn’t told ’em you were coming.”
Michael took up the second glass and had barely taken a sip when quick, light footfalls approached.
“Good Lord,” said he, “my wife! Here, Monty, quick,” placing the half-emptied glass in Denby’s hand and the one from which he had first drunk in Monty’s, “I count on you, boys,” he whispered, and then strode to the door and flung it open.
“Are we intruders?” his wife asked.
“You are delightfully welcome,” Denby cried. “Please come in.”
“We thought you’d still be up,” Nora explained. “Michael said he was bringing you up some highballs.”
“Great stuff,” Monty said, taking his cue, “best whiskey I ever tasted. Nothing like really old Bourbon after all.”
Michael shot a glance of agonized reproach at theman who could make such a stupid mistake. “Monty,” he explained to his wife, who had caught this ingenuous remark and had looked at him inquiringly, “is still so filled with excitement that he doesn’t know old Scotch when he tastes it.”
“Your husband is a noble abstainer,” Denby said quickly, to help them out, “we place temptation right before him and he resists.”
“That’s my wife’s training,” said Harrington, smiling complacently.
“I’m not so sure,” she returned. “Putting temptation before Michael, Mr. Denby, shows him just like old Adam—only Michael’s weakness is for grapes, not apples.”
“We’ve come,” Nora reminded them, “to get a fourth at auction. We’re all too much excited to sleep. Mr. Denby, I’m sure you’re a wonderful player. Surely you must shine at something.”
“Among my other deficiencies,” he confessed, “I don’t play bridge.”
Nora sighed. “There remains only Monty. Monty,” she commanded, “you must play.”
“Glad to!” he cried. “I like company, and I’m not tired either.”
Suddenly he caught sight of Denby’s face. His look plainly said, “Refuse.”
“In just a few minutes,” Monty stammered. “I was just figuring out something when you came in. How long will it take, Steve?”
“Hardly five minutes,” Denby said.
“It’s a gold-mine you see,” Monty explained laboriously, “and first it goes up, and then it goes down.”
“I always strike an average,” Michael told him. “It’s the easiest way.”
“Is it a good investment?” Alice demanded. She had a liking for taking small flutters with gold-mines.
“You wouldn’t know one if you saw it,” her husband said, laughing.
“I learnt what I know from you,” she reminded him.
“I’d rather dance than bridge it,” Nora said impatiently, doing some rather elaborate maxixe steps very gracefully and humming a popular tune meanwhile.
“Be quiet,” Alice warned her; “you’ll disturb Ethel.”
“Has Miss Cartwright gone to bed?” Denby asked her.
“She felt very tired,” Alice explained.
“It’s wrong to go to bed so early,” Nora exclaimed. “It can’t be much after two.”
She sang a few bars of another song much in vogue, but Alice stopped her again.
“Hush, Nora, don’t you understand Ethel’s in the next room asleep, or trying to?”
“I thought it was empty,” Nora said, in excuse for her burst of song.
“Ethel insisted on changing. She was very nervous and she wanted to be down near the men in case of trouble.”
“And I had to go through forty-seven bunches of keys to get one to fit that door,” her husband complained. Denby shot a swift glance toward Monty, who was wearing an “I told you so” expression. “She seemed positively afraid of you, Denby, from what my wife said,” Harrington concluded.
“You’re not drinking your highball, Mr. Denby,” Alice observed.
“I’m saving it,” he smiled.
“That’s a very obvious hint,” Nora cried. “Let’s leave them, Alice.” She sauntered to the door.
“Very well,” her hostess said, “and we’ll expect you in a few minutes, Monty. You’re coming, Michael?”
“In just a moment,” he returned. “I’ve got one more old wheeze I want to spring on Denby. He’s a capital audience for the elderly ones.”
“When Mr. Denby has recovered,” she commanded, “come down and play.”
“Certainly, my dear,” he said obediently.
“And, Michael,” she said smiling, “don’t think you’ve fooled me.”
“Fooled you,” he exclaimed innocently, “why, I’d never even dream of trying to!”
His wife moved toward Denby and took the half-finished highball from his hand.
“Michael,” she said, handing it to him, “here’s the rest of your drink.”
She went from the room still smiling at the deep knowledge she had of her Michael’s little ways.
Michael imbibed it gratefully.
“My wife’s a damned clever woman,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, as he trotted out obediently in her wake.
Directly he had gone Denby went quickly to the door and made sure it was closed tightly. “It was that girl, after all, Monty!” he said in a low, tense voice. “She tried to pry open the drawer with that paper-knife. You can see the marks. I found the knife on the floor, where she’d dropped it on hearing me at the door.”
Monty looked at him with sympathy in his eyes. “That’s pretty tough, old man,” he said softly.
“It’s hard to believe that she is the kind of woman to take advantage of our friendship to turn me over tothe police,” he admitted. Then his face took on a harder, sterner look. “But it’s no use beating about the bush; that’s exactly what she did.”
“I’m sorry, mighty sorry,” Monty said, realizing as he had never done what this perfidy meant to his old friend.
“I don’t want to have to fight her,” Denby said. “The very idea seems unspeakable.”
“What can we do if you don’t?” Monty asked doubtfully.
“If she’ll only tell me who it is that sent her here—the man who’s after me—I’ll fight him, and leave her out of it.”
“But if she won’t do that?” Monty questioned.
“Then I’ll play her own game,” Denby answered, “only this time she follows my rules for it.” As he said this both of the men fancied they could hear a creaking in the next room.
“What’s that?” Monty demanded.
Denby motioned to him to remain silent, and then tiptoed his way to the door connecting the rooms.
“Is she there?” Monty felt himself compelled to whisper.
Denby nodded acquiescence and quietly withdrew to the centre of the room.
“Has she heard us?” asked his friend.
“I don’t think so. I heard her close the window and then come over to the door.”
He crossed to the desk and began to write very fast.
“What are you doing?” Monty inquired softly.
Denby, scribbling on, did not immediately answer him. Presently he handed the written page to Monty. “Here’s my plan,” he said, “read it.”
While Monty was studying the paper Denby moved over to the light switch, and the room, except for the rose-shaded electric lamp, was in darkness.
“Jumping Jupiter!” Monty exclaimed, looking up from the paper with knit brows.
“Do you understand?” Denby asked.
“Yes,” Monty answered agitatedly; “I understand, but suppose I get rattled and make a mistake when the time comes?”
“You won’t,” Denby replied, still in low tone. “I’m depending on you, Monty, and I know you won’t disappoint me.” When he next spoke it was in a louder voice, louder in fact than he needed for conversational use.
“It’s a pity Miss Cartwright has gone to bed,” he exclaimed. “I might have risked trying to learn bridge, if she’d been willing to teach me. She’s a bully girl.”
“Don’t talk so loud,” Monty advised him, grinning.
“In these dictagraph days the walls have ears. Let’s go outside. We can’t tell who might hear us in this room. We’ll be safe enough on the lawn.”
“A good idea,” Denby agreed, moving away from the connecting door which they guessed had a listener concealed behind it, and turning out the lights. And Ethel Cartwright, straining her ears, heard the door opened and banged noisily, and footsteps hurrying past toward the stairway. It was at last the opportunity.
SHE turned the key, less noisily this time, and stepped into Denby’s room. Making her way to the drawer she gave it a gentle pull. But it was still fastened, and she grasped the heavy brass knife when of a sudden the room was full of light, and Denby stepped from the shadow of the door where he had been concealed.
“Oh!” she cried in terror, and turned her face away from him.
He walked slowly over to the table by which she stood.
“So you’ve come for the necklace, then? Why do you want it?”
She looked at him in desperation. Only the truth would serve her now.
“I am employed by the government. I was sent here to get it,” she answered.
“What?” he cried. “The charming Miss Cartwright a secret service agent! It’s quite incredible.”
“But it’s true,” she said.
“Who employed you?” he asked sharply.
“I can’t tell you that,” she said slowly.
“Then how can I believe you?” he asked her.
“But it’s the truth,” she insisted. “For what other reason should I be here?”
“Women have collected jewels before now for themselves as well as their governments,” he reminded her.
She flushed. “Do you wish to insult me?”
“I don’t think you quite realize your position,” he said. “I find you here trying to steal something of mine. If you tell me the name of the man, or men, under whose orders you are acting, I may be able to believe.”
“I can’t tell you,” she cried; “I can’t tell you.”
“It’s most likely to be Bangs,” he said meditatively, and then turned to her quickly. “It was John H. Bangs of the secret service who sent you.”
At all costs she knew she must keep the name of Daniel Taylor from him. To admit that it was a fellow official would do no harm.
“Yes,” she said; “it was.”
Contempt looked from his face. “You lie, Miss Cartwright, you lie!”
“Mr. Denby!” she cried.
“I’ve no time for politeness now,” he told her. “There is no Bangs in the secret service.”
“But you, how can you know?” she said, fighting for time.
“It’s my business to know my opponents,” he observed. “Can’t you tell the truth?”
“I can’t tell you who it was,” she persisted, “but if you’ll just give me the necklace—”
He laughed scornfully at her childish request. Her manner puzzled him extremely. He had seen her fence and cross-examine, use her tongue with the adroitness of an old hand at intrigue, and yet she was simple, guileless enough to ask him to hand over the necklace.
“And if I refuse you’ll call the men in who seized Mr. Vaughan, thinking it was I, and let them get the right man this time?”
“I don’t know,” she said despairingly. “What else can I do? I can’t fail.”
“Nor can I,” he snapped, “and don’t intend to, either. Do you know what happens to a man who smuggles in the sort of thing I did and resists the officials as I shall do, and is finally caught? I’ve seen it, and I know. It’s prison, Miss Cartwright, and gray walls and iron bars. It means being herded for a term of years with another order of men, the men who are crooked at heart; it means the losing of all one’s hopes in prison gloom and coming out debasedand suspected by every man set in authority over you, for evermore. I’ve sometimes gone sick at seeing men who have done as I am doing, but have not escaped. I’m not going to prison, Miss Cartwright, remember that.”
“But I don’t want you to,” she cried eagerly, so eagerly, that he groaned to think her magnificent acting should be devoted to such a scene as this. “I don’t want you to.”
“Then there’s only one way out of it for both of us,” he said, coming nearer.
“What?” she asked fervently.
“Tell them you’ve failed, that you couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“I couldn’t,” she said vehemently.
There was a certain studied contempt in his manner which hurt her badly. And to know that he would always regard her as an adventuress, unprincipled and ready to sell herself for the rewards of espionage, and never have even one pleasant and genuine memory of her, made her desperate.
“I didn’t intend you to lose on the transaction,” he said coldly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars.”
“Oh, no, no!” she cried, “you don’t understand.”
“Twenty thousand, then,” he said. “Only you andI would know. Your principals could never hold it against you. Isn’t it a good offer?”
She made a gesture of despair. “It’s no good.”
“Twenty thousand no good!” he jeered. “Think again, Miss Cartwright. It will pay you better to stand in with me than give me up.”
“No, no!” she cried, half hysterically.
“It’s all I can afford,” he said. Her manner seemed so strange, that for the first time since he had found her in his room, he began to doubt whether, after all, it was merely the splendid acting he had supposed.
“I can’t accept,” she told him. “I’vegotto get that necklace; it means more than any money to me.”
He looked at her keenly, seeking to gauge the depth of her emotion.
“Then they’ve got some hold on you,” he asserted.
“No,” she assured him, “I must get the necklace.”
“So you’re going to make me fight you then?” he questioned.
“I’ve got to fight,” she exclaimed.
“Look here,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “let’s get this thing right. You won’t accept any—shall we call it compromise?—and you won’t tell me for whom you are acting. And you won’t admit that you are doing this because someone has such a hold on you that you must obey. Is that right, so far?”
For a moment she had a wild idea of telling him, of putting an end to the scene that was straining her almost to breaking-point. She knew he could be chivalrous and tender, and she judged he could be ruthless and hard if necessity compelled. But above all, and even stronger than her fear of irrevocably breaking with him and being judged hereafter as one unworthy, was the dread of Taylor and that warrant that could at his will send Amy to prison and her mother possibly to her grave. She hardened herself to go through with the ordeal.
“So far you are right,” she admitted.
“Then it remains only for us two to fight. I hate fighting women. A few hours ago I would have sworn that you and I never could fight, but a few hours have shown me that I’m as liable to misread people as—as Monty, for example. You say you’ve got to fight. Very well then; I accept the challenge, and invite you to witness my first shot.”
He walked to the door through which she had come and opening it, took the key from her side of it, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
“What do you mean?” she cried.
“Merely that I’m going to keep you here,” he retorted. “I was afraid we might be interrupted.”
“Open that door!” she commanded quickly.
“When I am ready no doubt I shall,” he returned.
“You wouldn’t do that?” she cried, beginning to realize that she was to have no easy victory if indeed victory were to be her reward.
“I regret the necessity,” he said. “These methods don’t particularly appeal to me, but we have declared war, and there’s no choice.”
“But I don’t understand,” she said nervously.
“Don’t you?” he said, coming nearer and looking at her closely. “Don’t you understand that you are a beautiful woman and I am a man? Have you forgotten that it’s nearly three, and you are in my room, the room next which you begged to be moved? They were a little puzzled at your wanting that key so badly, and when you’re found hereen negligée—for you will be found here—I think I know the world well enough to judge what construction will be placed upon that discovery.”
For the moment she forgot about everything but the personal aspect of the situation in which she found herself. That this man of all others should be willing to compromise her reputation awakened the bitterest contempt for him.
“I thought at leastyouwere aman!” she cried.
“I am,” he returned without heat. “That’s just it, Miss Cartwright, I’m a man, and you are a woman.”
“And I thought you were my friend,” she exclaimed indignantly.
“Please don’t bandy the name of friendship with me,” he said with a sneer. “You of all women that live, to dare to talk like that! You knew I liked you—liked you very much, and because you were so sure of it, you wheedled me into betraying myself. You smiled and lied and pledged our friendship, and called to mind those days in Paris, which were the happiest recollections of all my life. And yet it was all done so that you might get enough out of me to lead me, with a prison sentence awaiting me, to the man who gives you your orders.” He took a few swift paces up and down the room. “This indignation of yours is a false note. We’ll keep to the main facts. You are sworn to betray me, and I am sworn to defeat you.”
“Don’t think that,” she said wretchedly; “I wasn’t—”
“And when I told you the truth,” he went on inexorably, “you asked me to go into the garden where they were waiting for me.”
“I couldn’t help it,” she said, as calmly as she was able.
“And when you thought I was sending the necklace here you trumped up a flimsy excuse so that you mightbe able to steal in here and get it. Is that sort of thing in your code of friendship?”
“I wasn’t trying to trap you,” she explained. “I thought you were innocent, and I wanted to convince them of it, too.”
“No doubt,” he said tauntingly, “and when you found out I was guilty, you still tried to save me, I suppose, by asking me to walk into their trap?”
The girl made an effort to defend her course of action. She knew that without the admission of the truth he must feel his point of view unassailable, but she wanted him not to think too hardly of her.
“After all,” she declared, “you had broken the law. You are guilty. Why should my behavior be so called into account?”
“It isn’t that at all,” he returned impatiently. “You didn’t play the game fairly. You used a woman’s last weapon—her sex. Well, I can play your game, too, and I will. You shall stay here till morning.”
“You don’t dare to keep me!” she cried.
“Oh, yes, I do,” he retorted easily.
She assumed as well as she could an air of bravado, a false air of courage that might convince him she was not so easily frightened as she felt.
“And you think the possible loss of my reputation is going to frighten me into letting you go?”
“I do,” he said readily.
“Well, you’re wrong,” she assured him, “I have only to tell them the truth about the necklace and what I’m doing here—”
“But the truth is so seldom believed,” he reminded her, “especially when you’ve no evidence to support it. A lie is a much more easily digested morsel.”
“All the evidence I need,” she asserted, “is in that locked drawer.”
“Quite so,” he admitted. “I’d forgotten that, only it happens you’re wrong again.” He drew the necklace from his pocket and showed it to her. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
Moving over to the table he scribbled a few words on a sheet of paper.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Manufacturing evidence,” he returned calmly.
“Meanwhile,” she said, gathering courage, “I propose to leave this room.”
“An excellent idea from your way of thinking,” he said, looking up. “Naturally I’m interested to know how.”
“I’ll show you,” she responded, and moved quickly to the bell button which she pushed violently. “Now,Mr. Denby,” she cried triumphantly. “This is my first shot! When the servants come, I shall take the necklace with me.”
She was disappointed to see no trace of alarm on his face. Instead, he answered her calmly enough.
“What a pity you did that—you’ll regret it so very soon.”
“Shall I?” she said satirically, and watched him go to the window. As he did so, a low whistle was heard coming from the lawn beneath. Then he took the necklace, wrapped it in the note he had written, and tossed it through the opening.
“I hardly think you’ll take it with you,” he observed suavely.
“I shall get it,” she returned. “I shall tell the Harringtons exactly what you are, and that you threw it on the lawn.”
“Wrong again, Miss Cartwright,” he said patiently. “If you’ll stand where I am, you will see the retreating figure of my friend Monty, who has it with him. Monty managed rather well, I think. His whistle announced the coast was clear.”
“But he can’t get away with those men out there,” she reminded him.
“Monty waited until they were gone,” he repeated.“For the moment, your friends of the secret service have left us.”
“Then I’ll tell Mr. Harrington about Monty, that he’s your accomplice.”
He shook his head. “I hardly think they’d believe that even from you. That Montague Vaughan, whose income is what he desires it to be, should lower himself to help me, is one of the truthful things nobody could possibly credit. If you could ring in some poor but honest young man it would sound so much more probable, but Monty, no.”
She looked at him like a thing stricken. Her poor bravado fell from her. She felt beaten, and dreaded to think what might be the price of her failure.
“And since you forced me,” he added, “I’ve had to play my last card. The note that I threw to Monty was a letter to you. He’ll leave it where it can easily be found.”
“A letter to me!” she repeated.
“It contained a suggestion that you try to get the room next mine, pleading nervousness, and come here to-night. It was the invitation—of a lover.”
“You beast!” she cried, flaming out into rage. “You coward!”
“You had your warning,” he reminded her. “The note will be conclusive, and no matter what you say,you will find yourself prejudged. It’s the world’s way to prejudge. The servants don’t seem to be coming, and you’ll be found here in the morning. What explanation will you have to offer?” He waited for her to speak, but she made no answer.
“I think the episode of the necklace remains as between just you and me,” he added slowly, watching her closely.
“The servants will come,” she cried. “I shan’t have to stay here.”
“If they disappoint you,” he remarked, “may I suggest that burglar-alarm? It will wake everybody up, the Harringtons, Miss Rutledge, and all, even if they’re in bed and asleep soundly. Why don’t you ring it? Miss Cartwright, Idareyou to ring it!”
Just then there came the sounds of footsteps in the corridor, then a knock at the door. Denby waited calmly for some word from the girl. The knock was repeated.
“Well,” he whispered at last, “why don’t you answer?”
She shrank back. “No, no, I can’t.”
Denby moved to the door. “Who is it?” he asked.
Lambart’s respectful voice made answer: “You rang, sir?”
“Yes,” he returned, “I forgot to tell you that MissCartwright wished to be called at seven. Call me at the same time, too. That’s all, Lambart; sorry to have had to disturb you. Good-night.”
He stood listening until the man’s footsteps died away. Then he turned, and came toward the girl.
“So you didn’t dare denounce me after all,” he said mockingly.
“Oh, I knew it was all a joke,” she said, with an attempt to pass it over lightly. “I knew you couldn’t be so contemptible.”
“A joke!” he exclaimed grimly. “Why does it seem a joke?”
“If you’d meant what you’d said, you’d have called Lambart in. That would have answered your purpose very well. But I knew that you’d never do that. I knew you couldn’t.”
“I’m afraid I shall have less faith hereafter in woman’s intuition,” he returned. “I can keep you here, and I will. No other course is open to me.” A clock outside struck. “It’s just three,” he observed. “In four hours’ time a maid will go to your room and find it empty. It’s a long time till then, so why not make yourself as comfortable as you can? Please sit down.”
The girl sank into a chair more because she was suddenly conscious of her physical weakness than for the reason he offered it her in mocking courtesy.
“I can’t face it,” she cried hysterically; “the disgrace and humiliation! I can’t face it!”
“You’ve got to face it,” he said sternly.
“I can’t,” she repeated. “It’s horrible, it’s unfair—if you’ll let me go, I’ll promise you I won’t betray you.”
“You daren’t keep silent about me,” he answered. “How can I let you go?”
“I’m telling you the truth,” she said simply.
“Then tell me who sent you here,” he entreated her. “You know what it means to me; you can guess what it means to you. If you tell me, it may save us both.”
“I can’t!” she cried. “I can’t! Oh, please, please!”
He took her in his arms, roughly, exasperated by her denial.
“By God, I’ll make you tell!” he said angrily.
“Don’t touch me,” she said shuddering.
“Who sent you here?” he demanded, not releasing her.
“I’m afraid,” she groaned. “Oh, I’m afraid. I hate you! I hate you! Let me go! let me go!”
“Who sent you here?” he repeated, still holding her.
“I’ll tell,” she said brokenly. Then, when he let her go, she sank into a chair. “I can’t go through with it—you’ve beaten me—Oh, I tried so hard, so hard,but you’ve won. It’s too unfair when it’s not my fault. You can’t understand, or you wouldn’t spoil my whole life like this. It’s not only me, it’s my mother, my sister—Amy.”
Denby, watching her hardly controllable agitation, was forced to readjust his opinion concerning her. This was not any adventuress trained in artifice and ruse, but the woman he had thought her to be in the deepest sorrow. The bringing in of her mother and sister was not, he felt sure, a device employed merely to gain his sympathy and induce leniency in her captor.
And when it seemed she must sob out a confession of those complex motives which had led her to seek his betrayal, Denby saw her clench her hands and pull herself together.
“No,” she said, rising to her feet, her weakness cast off, “I won’t quit—no matter what happens to me. I’ll expose you, and tell them everything. I’ll let them decide between us—whether they’ll believe you or me. It’s either you or my sister, and I’ll save her.”
He was now more than ever certain he was stumbling upon something which would bring him the blessed assurance that she had not sold herself for reward.
“Your sister?” he cried eagerly.
“They shan’t send her to prison,” the girl said doggedly.
“You’re doing all this to save your sister from prison?” he asked her gently.
“She depends on me so,” she answered dully. “They shan’t take her.”
“Then you’ve been forced into this?” he asked. “You haven’t done it of your own free will?”
“No, no,” she returned, “but what else could I do? She was my little sister; she came first.”
“And you weren’t lying to me—trying to trick me for money?”
“Can’t you see,” she said piteously, “that I wanted to save you, too, and wanted you to get away? I said you were innocent, but they wouldn’t believe me and said I had to go on or else they’d send Amy to prison. They have a warrant all ready for her in case I fail. That’s why I’m here. Oh, please, please, let me go.”
Steven Denby looked into her eyes and made his resolve. “You don’t know how much I want to believe in you,” he exclaimed. “It may spoil everything I’ve built on, but I’m going to take the chance.” He unlocked the door that led to her room. “You can go, Miss Cartwright!”
“Oh, you are a man, after all,” she cried, deep gratitude in her voice, and a relief at her heart she could as yet scarcely comprehend. And as she made to pass him she was startled by a shrill sharp whistle outside.
“The devil!” he cried anxiously, and ran to the window.
“What is it?” she called, frightened. It was not the low whistle that Monty had used, but a menacing, thrilling sound.
“Your friends of the secret service have come back,” he answered, “but they mustn’t see us together.” Quickly he lowered the window-shade, and stepped back to the centre of the room, coming to a sudden pause as he saw the terror on the girl’s face.
“Oh, my God,” she screamed, “what have you done? That was the signal to bring Taylor here.”
“Ah, then, it’s Taylor,” he cried triumphantly. “It’s Taylor!”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to tell,” she said, startled at the admission. “I didn’t mean to let anyone know.”
“I wish you had told me before,” he said with regret, “we could both have been spared some unhappy moments. I know Taylor and his way of fighting, and this thing is going to a finish.”
“Go, before he comes,” she entreated.
“And leave you alone to face him?” he said more tenderly. “Leave you to a man who fights as hedoes?” He looked at her for a moment in silence and then bowed his head over her white hand and kissed it. “I can’t do that. I love you.”
“Oh, please go while there’s time,” she pleaded; “he mustn’t take you.” She looked up at him and without shame, revealed the love that she now knew she must ever have for him. “Oh, I couldn’t bear that,” she said tremulously, “I couldn’t.”
He gazed down at her, not yet daring to believe that out of this black moment the greatest happiness of his life had come. “Ethel!” he said, amazed.
“I love you,” she whispered; “oh, my dear, I love you.”
He gathered her in his strong arms. “Then I can fight the whole world,” he cried, “and win!”
“For my sake, go,” she begged. “Let me see him first; let me try to get you out of it.”
“I stay here, dearest,” he said firmly. “When he comes, say that you’ve caught me.”
“No, no,” she implored; “I can’t send you to prison either.”
“I’m not going to prison,” he reassured her. “I’m not done for yet, but we must save your sister and get that warrant. He must not think you’ve failed him. Do you understand?”
“But he’ll take you away,” she cried, and clung to him.
“Do as I say,” he besought her; “tell him the necklace is here somewhere. Be brave, my dear, we’re working to save your sister. He’s coming.”
“Hands up, Denby,” Taylor shouted, clambering from the balcony to the room and levelling a revolver at the smuggler. Without a word Denby’s hands went up as he was bid, and the deputy-surveyor smiled the victor’s smile.
“Well, congratulations, Miss Cartwright,” he cried; “you landed him as I knew you could if you tried.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Denby cried indignantly. “Who are you?”
“Oh, can that bunk!” Taylor said in disgust.
“Where’s the necklace, Miss Cartwright?”
“I don’t know,” she answered nervously.
“You don’t know?” he returned incredulously.
“I haven’t been able to find it, but it’s here somewhere.”
“He’s probably got it on him,” Taylor said.
“All this is preposterous,” Denby exclaimed angrily.
“Hand it over,” Taylor snapped.
“I have no necklace,” Denby told him.
“Then I’ll have to search you,” he cried, coming to him and going through his pockets with the practised hand of one who knows where to look, covering him the while with the revolver.
“I’ll make you pay for this,” Denby cried savagely, as Taylor unceremoniously spun him around.
“Will you give it to me,” Taylor demanded when he had drawn blank, “or shall I have to upset the place by searching for it?”
“How can I get it for you with my hands up in the air?” Denby asked after a pause. “Let me put my hands down and I’ll help you.”
Taylor considered for a moment. Few men were better in a rough-and-tumble fight than he, and he had little fear of this beaten man before him. “You haven’t got a gun,” he said, “so take ’em down, but don’t you fool with me.”
Denby moved over to the writing-desk and picked up a heavy beaten copper ash-tray with match-box attached. He balanced it in his hand for a moment. “Not a bad idea is it?” he demanded smiling; and then, before Taylor could reach for it had hurled it with the strong arm and practised eye of an athlete straight at the patent burglar alarm a few feet distant.
There was a smashing of glass and then, an instantlater, the turning off of light and a plunge into blackness. And in the gloom, during which Taylor thrashed about him wildly, there came from all parts of the house the steady peal of the electrical alarms newly set in motion.
And last of all there was the report of the revolver and a woman’s shriek and the falling of a heavy body on the floor, and then a silence.
NO sooner had Michael Harrington seated himself at the card-table with his wife and Nora than he picked up a magazine and, as he always said, “kept the light from his eyes.” Some men—few there be—who boldly state they desire to sleep, but Michael was of the tactful majority and merely kept the light from his eyes and, incidentally, prevented any observers from noting that his eyes were closed.
He considered this a better way of waiting for Monty than to chatter as the women were doing of the events of the night.
“I wonder what’s become of Monty?” Alice asked presently.
“He’s kept us twenty minutes,” Nora returned crossly. “I saw him go out in the garden. He said it was to relieve his headache, but I really believe he wanted to capture the gang single-handed. Wouldn’t it be thrilling if he did?”
“A little improbable,” Alice laughed; “but still men do the oddest things sometimes. I never thoughtMichael the fighting kind till he knocked a man down once for kissing his hand to me.”
“It was fine of Michael,” Nora said. “The man deserved it.”
“I know, dear,” her hostess said, “but, as it happens, the man was kissing his hand to his infant son six months old in an upper window. It cost Michael fifty dollars, but I loved him all the more for it. Look at the dear old thing slumbering peacefully and imagining I think he’s keeping this very gentle light from his eyes.”
“It’s the two highballs he had in Mr. Denby’s room,” the sapient ingénue explained. She harked back to Monty. “I wish he were as brave about proposing. I’ve tried my grandmother’s recipes for shy men, and all my mother ever knew, I know. And yet he does get so flustered when he tries, that he scares himself away.”
Alice nodded. “He’s the kind you’ve got to lead to the altar. I had trouble with Michael. He imagined himself too hopelessly old, and very nearly married quite an elderly female. He’d have been dead now if he had. Here’s your prey coming in now.”
Monty entered the card-room from the garden, nervously stuffing into his pocket the precious package which Denby had thrown to him.
“I hope I haven’t delayed the game,” he apologized.
“We didn’t even miss you,” Nora said acidly.
“Were you supposed to be in on this game?”
“Don’t be cross, Nora,” Alice advised; “you can see his headache has been troubling him. Is it better, Monty?”
“What headache?” he asked. “I haven’t had a headache for months. Oh, yes,” he added, confused, “that neuralgic headache has gone, thanks. Shall we play?”
“Yes, let’s,” Nora said. “Michael dealt before he went to sleep.”
“Wake up, Michael,” his wife said, tapping him with her fan, “you’re not at the opera; you’re playing cards.”
“I haven’t slept for a moment,” he assured her, after a pause in which he got his bearings. “The light was too strong—”
“So you shaded your eyes,” his wife went on. “Well, when they are unshaded will you remember we’re playing?”
“Who opened it?” he demanded with a great effort.
“Bridge, my dear,” Alice reminded him, “not poker—bridge, auction bridge.” She paused a momentwhile the clock struck three. “And it’s three o’clock, and it’s quite time you began.”
“One no trump,” Nora said, after looking at her hand cheerfully.
“It isn’t your bid,” Alice corrected her, “although I don’t wonder you forgot. It’s Michael’s; he dealt.”
Michael tried to concentrate his gaze on his hand. There seemed to be an enormous number of cards, and he needed time to consider the phenomenon.
“What’d the dealer draw?” he asked.
“But we’re not playing poker,” Alice said.
“It was Monty who confused me,” he said in excuse, and looked reproachfully at his vis-à-vis. “What’s trumps?”
“It’s your bid,” Nora cried. “You dealt.”
“I go one spade.”
“One no trump,” Monty declared.
“Two royals,” Nora cried, not that she had them, but to take it away from Monty.
“Pass,” said Alice glumly. She could have gone two royals, but dared not risk three.
“Give me three cards,” Michael cried more cheerfully. The way was becoming clearer.
“Michael,” his wife said reprovingly, “if you’re really as tired as that, you’d better go to bed.”
“I never broke up a poker game in my life,” hecried. “It’s only the shank of the evening. What’s happened, partner?” he yawned to Nora.
“I went two royals,” she said.
Michael looked at his hand enthusiastically. “Three aces,” he murmured. “I’d like to open it for two dollars—as it is, I pass.”
“Two no trumps,” said Monty. When the rest had passed, Nora led and Monty played from the dummy. Michael, at last feeling he was rounding into form, played a low card, so that dummy took the trick with a nine.
“Anything wrong?” he asked anxiously as Nora shook her head.
“If you don’t want to win you’re playing like a bridge article in a Sunday paper,” she returned.
“This game makes me sick,” he said in disgust. “Nothing but reproaches.”
“I wish Mr. Denby were playing instead of poor Michael,” Nora remarked.
“Steve’s got the right idea,” Monty commented. “He’s in bed.”
“Great man, Denby,” said Michael. “He knows you can’t sit up all night unless you drink.”
“We’ll finish the rubber and then stop,” his wife said comfortingly. “Do remember it’s not poker.”
“I wish it were,” he exclaimed dolefully. “Nopartners—no reproaches—no post-mortems in poker. If you make a fool of yourself you lose your own money and everybody else is glad of it and gets cheerful.”
“After this then, one round of jacks to please Michael,” said Alice.
“And then quit,” Monty suggested. “I’m tired, too.”
“I’m not tired,” Michael asserted. “I’m only thirsty. It takes this form with me. When I’m thirsty—”
Michael stopped in consternation. Overhead, from all parts of the house, came the mechanical announcement that burglars had broken in. The four rose simultaneously from the table.
“Burglars!” cried Michael, looking from one to the other.
“Good Heavens!” Nora gasped.
“What shall we do?” cried Alice.
“It’s gone off by accident,” Monty asserted quivering, as there came suddenly the sound of a shot.
“Somebody’s killed!” Alice exclaimed, with an air of certainty.
Michael was the first to recover his poise. “Monty,” he commanded sternly, “go and find what’s the matter. I’ll look after the girls.”
Alice looked at him entreatingly. “You’d better go,” she said; “I shall feel safer if you see what it is. You’re not afraid, Michael?”
“Certainly not,” he said with dignity. “Of course they’re armed. Hello, who’s here?”
It was Lambart entering, bearing in his hand a .45 revolver.
“The burglar-alarm, sir,” he said, with as little excitement as he might have announced the readiness of dinner. “The indicator points to Mr. Denby’s room.”
“Good old Lambart,” his employer said heartily. “You go ahead, and we’ll follow. No, you keep the beastly thing,” he exclaimed, when the butler handed him the weapon. “You’re a better shot than I am, Lambart.”
“Mikey,” Alice called to him, “if you’re going to be killed, I want to be killed, too.”
The Harringtons followed the admirable Lambart up the stairway, while Nora gazed after them with a species of fascinated curiosity that was not compounded wholly of fear. Intensely alive to the vivid interest of these swiftly moving scenes through which she was passing, Nora—although she could scream with the best of them—was not in reality badly scared.
“I don’t want to be killed,” she announced with decision.
Monty moved to her side. He had an idea that if he must die or be arrested, he would like Nora to live on, cherishing the memory that he was a man.
“Neither do I!” he cried. “I wish I’d never gone into this. I knew when I dreamed about Sing Sing last night that it meant something.”
“Gone into what?” Nora demanded.
“I’m liable to get shot any minute.”
“What!” she cried anxiously.
“This may be my last five minutes on earth, Nora.”
“Oh, Monty,” she returned, “what have you done?” She looked at him in ecstatic admiration; never had he seemed so heroic and desirable. “Was it murder?”
“If I come out of it alive, will you marry me?” he asked desperately.
“Oh, Monty!” she exclaimed, and flung herself into his arms. “Why did you put it off so long?”
“I didn’t need your protection so much,” he told her; “and anyway it takes a crisis like this to make me say what I really feel.”
“I love you anyway, no matter what you’ve done,” she said contentedly.
He looked at her more brightly. “I’m the happiestman in the world,” he declared, “providing,” he added cautiously, “I don’t get shot.”
She raised her head from his shoulder and tapped the package in his pocket. “What’s that?” she asked.
“That’s my heart,” he said sentimentally.
“But why do you wear it on the right side?” she queried.
“Oh, that,” he said more gravely, “I’d forgotten all about it. It belongs to Steve. That shows I love you,” he added firmly; “I’d forgotten all about it.”
As he spoke there was the shrill call of a police whistle outside. “The police!” he gasped.
“Don’t let them get you,” she whispered. “They are coming this way.”
“Quick,” he said, grabbing her arm and leading her to a door. “We’ll hide here.” Now that danger, as he apprehended it, was definitely at hand, his spirits began to rise. He was of the kind which finds in suspense the greatest horror. They had barely reached the shelter of a door when Duncan and Gibbs ran in.
“Come on, Harry,” Duncan called to the slower man, “he’s upstairs. Get your gun ready.”
Nora clasped her lover’s hand tighter. “There’ll be some real shooting,” she whispered; “I hope Alice doesn’t get hurt. Listen!”
“The Chief’s got him for sure,” Gibbs panted, making his ascent at the best speed he could gather.
“They’ve gone,” Nora said, peering out; then she ventured into the hall. “Who’s the chief?” she asked.
“The chief of police I guess,” he groaned. “This is awful, Nora. I can’t have you staying here with all this going on. Go back into the card-room, and I’ll let you know what’s happened as soon as I can.”
“But what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I’m going to wait for Steve; he’s very likely to want me.”
“I’m not afraid,” Nora said airily.
“But I am,” he retorted; “I’m afraid for you. Be a good girl and do as I say, and I’ll come as soon as the trouble’s over.”
“I just hate to miss anything,” she pouted. “Still if you really wish it.” She looked at him more tenderly than he had ever seen her look at any human being before. “Don’t get killed, Monty, dear.”
Monty took her in his arms and kissed her. “I don’t want to,” he said, “especially now.”
When the door had shut behind her he took out the necklace with the idea of secreting it in an unfindable place. He remembered a Poe story where a letter was hidden in so obvious a spot that it defied Parisian commissaries of police. But the letters were usual thingsand pearl necklaces were not, and he took it down from the mantel where for a second he had let it lie, and rammed it under a sofa-cushion on the nearby couch. That, too, was not a brilliant idea and, while he was wondering if the pearls would dissolve if he dropped them in a decanter of whiskey on a table near him, there were loud voices heard at the head of the stairway, and he fled from the spot.