Here was more food for cogitation. Why should a few idle questions throw the pearl expert at Dunsany's into such visible agitation? I had to give it up. Perhaps it was a twinge of indigestion or a troublesome corn. Anyhow I lost sight of it in the greater discovery. Half a million for the necklace, and Miss Hamerton had told me that buying it pearl by pearl it had cost her little more than twenty-five thousand!
Meanwhile there was an idea going through my head that I had not quite nerve enough to open to my client. It must be remembered that though I was making strides, I was still green at my business. I was not nearly so sure of myself as my manner might have led you to suppose. To my great joy Miss Hamerton herself broached the subject.
One afternoon she said, apropos of nothing that had gone before: "I'm sorry now that I introduced you to my friends. Though I do not see how I could have seen you without their knowing it."
"Why sorry?" I asked.
She went on with charming diffidence—how was one to resist her when she pleaded with an humble air: "I have thought—if it would not tie you down too closely—that you might take a minor rôle in my company."
My heart leaped—but of course I was not going to betray my eagerness if I could help it.
"As to your friends having seen me," I said, "that doesn't make any difference. Disguise is part of my business."
"Then will you?" she eagerly asked.
I made believe to consider it doubtfully. "It would tie me down!" I said.
"Oh, I hope you can arrange it!" she said.