“Oh, you let me alone to look out for myself,” sneered Belle, with a series of significant nods. “I cut my eye-teeth a long time ago, and it’s a cold day when I cannot hoodwink a man.”
“That’s no pipe-dream,” growled Godard.
“And I’ll do the job for the price mentioned, Nate—cash on delivery,” added the unprincipled jade. “I must do it at my own time and in my own way.”
“I care not when or how, Belle, so long as it’s done.”
“Trust me to do it, then.”
“Do you require any help?”
“I should say not!” exclaimed the girl quickly. “When I tackle anything of this kind, I play a lone hand. I want no partner who some day may squeal. It’ll be all or nothing for me.”
Nothing could have suited Godard better, for he was essentially a coward, and the simple thought of meeting Nick Carter in a life or death encounter sent chills up and down his spine.
“I shall require one thing, however,” said Belle.
“What is that?”