“You have an excellent opinion of yourself.”
“No. I’m telling you the truth. My name is Neeland—James Neeland. I draw little pictures for a living—nice little pictures for newspapers and magazines.”
His frankness evidently perplexed her.
“If that is so,” she said, “what interests you in the papers you took from me?”
“Nothing at all, my dear young lady! I’m not interested in them. But friends of mine are.”
“Who?”
He merely laughed at her.
“Are you an agent for any government?”
“Not that I know of.”
She said very quietly: