Lucile’s breath came short and quick. She had completely forgotten the reward. She would be justly entitled to it. And what wouldn’t two hundred dollars mean to her? Clothes she had longed for but could not afford; leisure for more complete devotion to her studies; all this and much more could be purchased with two hundred dollars.
For a moment she wavered. What was the use? The whole proposition if put fairly to the average person, she knew, would sound absurd. To protect two persons whom you have never met nor even spoken to; to protect them when to all appearances they were committing one theft after another, with no excuse which at the moment might be discovered; how ridiculous!
Yet, even as she wavered, she saw again the face of that child, heard again the shuffling footstep of the tottering old man, thought of the gargoyle mystery; then resolved to stand her ground.
“I do know exactly where your book is,” she said steadily. “But if I were to tell you that for the present I did not wish to have you ask me where it was, what would you say?”
“Why,” he smiled as before, “I would say that this was a great old world, full of many mysteries that have never been solved. I should say that a mere book was nothing to stand between good friends.”
He put out a hand to clasp hers. “When you wish to tell me where the book is or to see that it is returned, drop in or call me on the phone. The reward will be waiting for you.”
Lucile’s face was flushed as she rose to go. She wished to tell him all, yet did not dare.
“But—but you might have a customer waiting for that book,” she exclaimed.
“One might,” he smiled. “In such an event I should say that the customer would be obliged to continue to wait.”
Lucile moved toward the door and as she did so she barely missed bumping into an immaculately tailored young man, with all too pink cheeks and a budding moustache.