I looked at her and realized that she hadn't believed a word of my story.
"See here—" I began, when the door-bell rang.
"Two-to-one it's Harcourt," I remarked.
"I hope so," said Arthurjean coloring faintly.
"Well, what's all this about?" I demanded, as a slow blush gathered in sunset fury upon her pleasant face. "Why, Arthurjean—"
"Lay off," she begged. "He's a nice guy and he hasn't got that family in Brooklyn he kept talking about. You and me are washed up—and—well, he's from the South, too, and he talks my language."
"Good luck," I told her. "But he's also on the doorstep, so take hold of yourself."
He was. She did.
"'Evening, Miss Briggs," the Special Agent said politely. "Any luck, Mr. Tompkins?"
I shook my head.