She stretched out a warm hand, and I lifted her to her feet. For a second I held the slight fingers.
"Tell me one thing," said I. "Is there anyone who doesn't love you?"
The fingers slipped away. "Yes, stacks of people. You wouldn't like me a bit, only I'm not myself to-night. I'm just—just Eve. See? New Year's Eve."
"Thomas thinks you're Jill—Miss Mansel."
"To him I am. To the temporary maid in the morning, too. As for breakfast—oh, you and my high collar must get me through breakfast and out of here and over to Steeple Abbas somehow. Funny, your telling Falcon to go to 'The Three Bulls.' It's where we were making for. I'd taken a room there."
"By Jove," said I. "Then, when I went back with Jill, they thought it was you arriving."
And I related what had occurred. When I had finished, she threw back her head and laughed.
"Then you're not a robber, after all, Adam?"
"Certainly not. But why?"
"I mean, assuming the exchange is a fair one."