"That may be true," Hugh agreed. "You are the first—ah—"
"Crook," she flashed, with a show of white teeth.
"Thanks for the word. You are the first of your species I've had the pleasure of meetin'. I don't quite see the attraction of the life for you."
"You wouldn't," she replied. "I'm what you English call a wrong 'un. Maude Hilyer thinks that if she and Montey could cash in they would chuck this life and go straight. But I know she's dead wrong. If you're once wrong, you're always wrong. The best thing you can do is to play safe and steer clear of the cops. That's me."
"But I say!" Hugh objected. "You say everybody is crooked, and next you say—"
"Never mind what I say," she interrupted. "You aren't going to reform me. And I'm against you. And if I can trim you I'll do it, and if Toutou wants to knife you, and it won't interfere with the game, why, I'll let him go ahead. And with it all, I like you. Now, do you understand me?"
"Yes," said Hugh, smiling. "I once met a very gallant Bavarian gentleman between two sets of barbed wire to arrange about burying some dead soldiers, and we found we liked each other very much. But afterward we tried hard to kill each other, and I am afraid I succeeded."
"You've got me," she assented. "Well, you must be hungry, boys. You don't want to save a lot of trouble, and maybe your lives, by giving up that treasure secret, I suppose?"
"No, thanks, Countess," laughed Hugh. "We'll give you a bit of a run for your money yet."
She laughed back with that pleasant, well-bred trill of a carefree schoolgirl, and we bowed and left her.