“What is the matter with the Frogs anyway?” she asked coolly. “They pay well and they ask for little.”
Ray gaped at her.
“You’re not working for them, are you?” he asked astonished. “Why, they’re just low tramps who murder people!”
She shook her head.
“Not all of them,” she corrected. “They are only the body—the big Frogs are different. I am one and Lew is one.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” demanded Lew, half in fear, half in wrath.
“He ought to know—and he has got to know sooner or later,” said Lola, unperturbed. “He’s too sensible a boy to imagine that the Japanese or any other embassy is paying his overhead charges. He’s a Frog.”
Ray collapsed into a chair, incapable of speech.
“A Frog?” he repeated mechanically. “What . . . what do you mean?”
Lola laughed.