"Gone away on his Government work," Pamela announced. "I had a note and some roses from him. Don't let's talk about it, Jimmy. I keep on getting new ideas, and it makes my brain whirl. I want to talk about you."
"I'm a rotten lot to talk about," he sighed.
She patted his hand.
"You're nothing of the sort, dear, and you've got to remember now that you're out of the trouble. But listen. Hurry down to the office as early as you can and set about straightening things out, so that if Mr. Fischer tries to make trouble, he won't be able to do it. There's my cheque for eighty-nine thousand dollars I made out last night before I went to bed," she added, passing it over to him. "Just replace what stocks you're short of and get yourself out of the mess, and don't waste any time about it."
His face glowed as he looked across the table.
"You're the most wonderful sister, Pamela."
"Nonsense!" she interrupted. "Nonsense! I ought not to have left you alone all this time, and, besides, I'm pretty sure he helped you into this trouble for his own ends. Anyway, we are all right now. I shall be in New York for a few days before I go to Washington. When I do go, you must see whether you can get leave and come with me."
"That's bully," he declared. "I'll get leave, right enough. There's never been less doing in Wall Street. But say, Pamela, I don't seem to half understand what's going on. You've given up most of your friends, and you spend months away there in Europe in all sorts of corners. Now you come back and you seem mixed up in regular secret service work. Where do you come in, anyway? What are you going to Washington for?"
She smiled.
"Queer tastes, haven't I, Jimmy?"