“Are them things really worth that much?” Garson exclaimed.
“Sometimes more,” Mary answered. “Morgan has a set of Gothic tapestries worth half a million dollars.”
Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust.
“He pays half a million dollars for a set of rugs!” There was a note of fiercest bitterness come into his voice as he sarcastically concluded: “And they wonder at crime!”
Griggs went on with his account.
“About a month ago, the things I was telling you of were hung in the library of a millionaire in this city.” He hitched his chair a little closer to the desk, and leaned forward, lowering his voice almost to a whisper as he stated his plan.
“Let's go after them. They were smuggled, mind you, and no matter what happens, he can't squeal. What do you say?”
Garson shot a piercing glance at Mary.
“It's up to her,” he said. Griggs regarded Mary eagerly, as she sat with eyes downcast. Then, after a little interval had elapsed in silence, he spoke interrogatively:
“Well?”