“But, goodness alive, it’s our last resort. Would you rather have the whole business fall through? Be reasonable. Why, it’s a ruse the daintiest men at the bar wouldn’t stick at.”
“Perhaps they wouldn’t; but I do.”
“Well, what else is there to be done?”
“And besides,” said Arthur, not heeding Romer’s question, “you make a great mistake in fancying that she would be deceived by it. If that woman is any thing, she’s shrewd. She’s far too shrewd to bite when the hook’s in sight.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean she’d sniff danger at once—divine that it is—what you have called it—a decoy. What under the sun could her brother-in-law have to communicate that would be to her advantage?”
“All right,” said Romer, shrugging his shoulders; “suggest a more promising move, and I’ll be with you.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Arthur, “I’m not too squeamish. I won’t connive at downright falsehood; but I’m willing to compromise. It’s a bitter pill to swallow—it goes against the grain—but I’ll consent to something like this. Let me take your pen.”
Arthur scratched off a line or two.
“Here,” he said.