“Ah, I have it!” she suddenly cried. “You are in Boston on business—perilous business.”
“Well?” queried Nick, determined to tell her nothing.
“You came to me for advice?”
“Yes.”
“Then I advise you to drop it.”
“Drop what?”
“This perilous business.”
“Do you know of what it consists?”
“I do not get any impression of that,” replied Madame Victoria, with curious nervous efforts to make her mind receptive to the information desired, efforts that brought the perspiration to her neck and brow in tiny drops.
“No, no. I do not get it—cannot get it,” she presently added, with a gasp. “I have no idea of what it consists. Yet I advise you to drop it.”