“Can’t we see them together?” he suggested. “I shall never tire of Parisian ghosts if you are there to keep me from being too scared. Let’s go out and see if the moon looks good-tempered. The others are talking about smuggling and light and airy nothings like that. Shall we?”
“No, no!” she said, with a tremor in her voice that did not escape him. “Not yet; later, perhaps.”
She could, in fact, hardly compose her face. Here he was suggesting that she take him into a trap to be prepared later by her treachery. But she had what seemed to her a duty to perform, and no sentiment must stand in the way of her sister’s salvation. And there was always the hope that he was innocent. At any other time than this she would have wagered he was without blame; but this was a day on which misfortunes were visiting her, and she was filled with dread as to its outcome.
She moved over to Mrs. Harrington’s side, gracefully and slowly, free so far as the ordinary observer could see from any care.
“So you are talking of smuggling,” she said. “Alice, did you really bring in anything without paying duty on it?”
“Not a thing,” Alice returned promptly. “I declared every solitary stitch.”
“I’d like to believe you,” her husband remarked, “but knowing you as I do—”
“I paid seven hundred dollars’ duty,” his spouse declared.
“Disgusting!” Nora exclaimed. “Think of what you could have bought for that!”
“Please tell me,” Michael inquired anxiously, “what mental revolution converted you from the idea that smuggling was a legitimate and noble sport?”