"Two hundred dollars," said the Countess Athalie, "—in two lessons; also, your word of honour."
"Monday," nodded Stafford, taking out a note-book and making a memorandum, "—at five in the afternoon."
"Monday and Wednesday at five," said the girl, lighting a cigarette and gazing dreamily at nothing.
From somewhere in the room came a voice.
"Did they ever catch that crook, Athalie?"
"Which?"
"The Fifty-ninth Street safe-blower?"
"Yes."
"Did you find him?"
She nodded.