“Well,” he continued, “you said when I needed you, you’d be ready.” He looked about him cautiously as though fearing interruption. “I said it might be a year, or it might be a month, or it might be to-night. Well, it’s to-night, Miss Cartwright. I need you right now.”
“Now?” she said puzzled. “Still, I don’t understand.”
He lowered his voice. “A man has smuggled a two hundred thousand dollar necklace through the Customs to-day. For various reasons which you wouldn’t understand, we allowed him to slip through, thinking he’d fooled us. Now that he believes himself safe, it ought to be easy to get that necklace. We’ve got to get it; and we’re going to get it, through one of our agents.” He pointed a forefinger at her. “We’re going to get it through you.”
“But I shouldn’t know how to act,” she protested, “or what to do.”
Taylor smiled. “You’re too modest, Miss Cartwright. I’ve seen some of your work in my own office, and I think you’ll be successful.”
“But don’t you see I’m staying here over Sunday?” she explained. “I can’t very well make an excuse and leave now.”
“You don’t have to leave,” he told her.
“What do you mean, then?” she demanded.
“That the man who smuggled the necklace is staying here, too. His name is Steven Denby.”
“Steven Denby!” the girl cried, shrinking away from him. “Oh, no, you must be mad—he isn’t a smuggler.”