“Colonel Ashley! Heavens!”
“Exactly!” he chuckled. “You didn't expect to see me here, did you? Well, it's all right.”
“Then you're not after me for—” She gasped and could not go on. “That last deal was straight. I'm not the one you want.”
“Don't get Spotty's habit, and throw up your hands just because you see me, Kate,” went on the colonel soothingly. “I'm not after you professionally this time. In fact, if things turn out the way I want, I may shut my eyes to one or two little phases of your—er—let us call it career. I may ignore one or two little things that, under other circumstances, might need explaining.”
“You mean you want me for a stool pigeon?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“And suppose I refuse?”
“That's up to you, Kate. I may be able to get along without you—I don't say I can, but I may. However it would mean harder work and a delay, and I don't mind, seeing it's you, saying that I'd like to get back to my fishing. So if you'll come to reason, and tell me what I want to know, it will help you and—Blossom.”
“Blossom!” she gasped. “Then you know—”
“I may as well tell you that I was back there—a while ago,” and the colonel nodded vaguely to the splotch of blackness from whence Morocco Kate had rushed with that despairing cry on her lips.