She hesitated, hardly able to put her jumbled thoughts into words.
“Yes. That’s so,” said the detective instantly. “Never mind. It’s a fairly decent world, taken en bloc. I ought to speak with authority. I see enough of the seamy side of it, goodness knows. Now, forewarned is forearmed. Don’t be nervous. Don’t take risks. Everything will come right in time. Remember, I’m not far away in an emergency. Should I chance to be absent if you need advice, send for Mr. Franklin. You can easily devise some official excuse, a mislaid letter, or an error in a telegram.”
“I think I shall feel confident if both of you are near,” and the ghost of a smile lit Doris’s wan features.
“We’re a marvelous combination,” grinned Furneaux, reverting at once to his normal impishness. “I am all brain; he is all muscle. Such an alliance prevails against the ungodly.”
“Is Mr. Grant in any danger?” inquired Doris suddenly.
“No.”
The two looked into each other’s eyes. Doris was eager to ask a question, which Furneaux dared her to put. The detective won. She sighed.
“Very well,” she said. “I’m to behave. Am I to regard myself as a decoy duck?”
“A duck, anyhow.”
She laughed lightly. Furneaux would vouchsafe no further information, it would appear. For a girl of nineteen, Doris was uncommonly gifted with clear, analytical reasoning powers.