Terry brought out the sheaf of bills the girl had left in the shop of the vanished Jimenez. He held them out to the girl. She put her hands behind her back and shook her head.
"We put you to trouble," she said pleasantly, "and we haven't been frank with you. That's to make up for it."
"I won't accept it," said Terry stiffly. "I insist."
"We won't have it back," said Davis. "And we insist!"
Terry felt idiotic. There was enough of a breeze to make it impractical simply to put the batch of bank notes down. They'd blow away. The girl looked at him regretfully.
"I'm truly sorry," she said. "I planned the way we went after you. You are exactly the person we're sure to need. We decided to try to get you to join us. We couldn't explain. So we asked what you were like. And you're not the sort of person who can be hired to do what he's told and no questions asked. Captain Horta said you were a gentleman. So since we couldn't ask you to volunteer blindly—though I think you would volunteer if you knew what we're about to do—we tried to make you come for the adventure of it. It didn't work. I'm sorry."
Terry had the singular conviction that she told the exact truth. And she was a very pretty girl, but she wasn't using her looks to persuade him. She spoke as one person to another. He unwillingly found himself mollified.
"Look!" he said vexedly. "I was leaving Manila. I need to be away for a while. I am coming back. I can do any crazy thing I want for some weeks, or even a couple of months. But I don't like to be pushed around! I don't like—"
The girl smiled suddenly.
"All right, I'll keep the money."