"The reward? Of course." Her voice died away. "You hoped to get it. That is the reason—"
He let his silence answer in the affirmative; he felt relieved now. She had not recognized him—yet. In the recess behind the draperies the chair in which his excellency was bound, creaked. Was he struggling to release himself? Mr. Heatherbloom had faith in the knots and the silken cords. The girl turned her head.
"Don't you think it would be better"—he spoke quickly—"for you to return to your cabin? I'll let you know when I want you and—"
"But if I prefer to stay here? May I not turn on the lights?"
"Not for worlds!" Hastily. "It is necessary they should not see me. If they did—"
He was obliged to explain a little of the real situation to her; of the stratagem he had employed. This he did in few words. She listened eagerly. The mantle of the commonplace, which to her eyes had fallen a few moments before on his shoulders, became at least partly withdrawn. She divined the great hazard, the danger he had faced—was facing now. Detective or not, it had been daringly done. Her voice, with a warm thrill in it, said as much. Her eyes shone like stars. She came of a live virile stock, from men and women who had done things themselves.
"If only I, too, had a weapon!" she said, leaning toward him. "In case they should discover—"
"No, no. It wouldn't do at all."
"Why not?" the warm lips breathed. "I can shoot. Some one once taught me—"
She stopped short. A chill seemed descending. "You were saying—" he prompted eagerly.