“‘I can’t waste my time and money on such rubbish,’ he fairly fumed.”
“I can just see him.” Betty laughed. “But did he do the pictures?”
“Oh yes. I was young then, and usually got my way. I told him that at least he wouldn’t be wasting his money, for I meant to pay him. So he said:
“‘Oh, all right! Bring them in and we shall see!’
“Well.”—Lieutenant Warren leaned back in her chair. “My father was a good amateur photographer, he had taught me how to take pictures. My pictures came out very well. This eccentric photographer, who hadn’t had time for me, complimented me.”
“And after that,” Norma laughed, “Herr Photographer was one of your best friends.”
“Not quite that. But he did make many pictures and took an unusual interest in showing me his treasures.”
“And that was how you discovered he was a spy?” suggested Betty.
“Well, yes—and no. Truth is, when I left India I had not the slightest notion that he was a spy.”
“Then how in the world—” Norma broke in.