“What kind of a proposition?” Nielsen quizzed in droll tones and looked at Carstairs, who was frowning.
“There’s very little to it. I can dish it out in a few words. It’s simply this: that we put Erna to the test.”
“What do you mean?” was Carstairs’ immediate challenge.
“Don’t worry!” Breen responded blandly. “I’m not going to injure the girl.”
“Well, what did you mean—”
“Merely this,” the painter interrupted quietly. “I don’t believe that any of us know her very well. She’s only been working at Landsmann’s a few months. Of course, Carstairs, you’ve taken her out on one or two occasions, so you’ve had an opportunity of studying her at closer range.”
“Not of studying her!”
“You don’t study her, certainly. You—er—what would you call it, Nielsen?”
“Why, John has been burned a little by the divine flame.”
Carstairs blushed angrily. “If you fellows intend to be personal—”