"You're all right," I reminded him. "I'm the person who nearly found trouble. A few more paragraphs about that mysterious jewel robbery and the probability of immediate arrest would have sent me into a nervous decline."
Rose laughed in my face, her white teeth gleaming. The little creases at the corners of her eyes deepened.
"Rubbish!" she scoffed. "You know perfectly well that you never turned a hair."
"As a matter of fact," I admitted, "I am beginning to have confidence in Mr. Mephistopheles Thomson. Whether he is of heaven or earth, of the law or of the underworld, he seems to have a remarkably good idea of how to take care of himself and his minions."
"Considering that he has three perfectly good consciences to look after besides his own," Rose agreed, "I must say that he does very well."
"His interests appear to be somewhat cosmopolitan," Leonard observed, leaning back in his chair and gazing around him.
"So much the better," Rose declared. "It means plenty of change for us, and I like change, only this time I hope my affections are not going to be trifled with."
"You shouldn't wear your heart on your sleeve for sentimental Russians to nibble at," I ventured.
She made a little grimace. I fancy I should have been the recipient of a scathing remark but for the approach of Monsieur Huber, the proprietor of the café. He bowed with great politeness to Rose and handed me a typewritten envelope of familiar appearance. I tore it open and glanced at its brief contents:
I beg that you will respond to any advances made to you by any regular patrons of the Café des Quatres Etoiles.