"It looks like it, doesn't it?"
"Are you a spy?"
"I'm not on the witness-stand."
"Or a smuggler? And before you answer that I don't mind saying that all smuggling is not—wicked."
He laughed outright.
"You certainly want me to confess something, so you made that one easy. Well, if I'm a smuggler I'm not a very good one, I'm afraid. I haven't been able to smuggle you to the American side yet."
Rosalind stiffened in her chair. Automatically she drew her stockinged feet beneath her skirt. If there was to be another battle she felt that there was a lack of militancy about her feet. A lady without her shoes is scarcely girded for combat.
"That of course was an utterly absurd idea," she said firmly. "But I am willing to consider it as a joke, in view—of all that has happened."
"Much obliged. But it wasn't a joke."
"You couldn't have meant it seriously?"