“I’m afraid I was,” Denby admitted.
“What was it? Won’t you tell me?”
“If I did,” he said, “it would indeed be a break.”
“Discreet man,” she laughed; “I believe you were talking about me.”
He did not answer for a moment but looked at her keenly. It hurt him to think that this girl, of all others, might be fencing with him to gain some knowledge of his secret. But he had lived a life in which danger was a constant element, and women ere this had sought to baffle him and betray.
He was cautious in his answer.
“You are imaginative,” he said, “even about your fan. There doesn’t seem to be a trace of it, and I don’t think I remember your having one.”
“Perhaps I didn’t bring it down,” she admitted, “and it may be in my room after all. May I have that promised cigarette to cheer me on my way?”
“Surely,” he replied. Very eagerly she watched him take the pouch from his pocket and roll a cigarette.
Her action seemed to set Monty on edge. Suppose Denby by any chance dropped the pouch and the jewels fell out. It seemed to him that she was drawing nearer. Suppose she was the one who had been chosen to “work inside” and snatched it from him?