“But why ‘Dick,’” Monty cried, “when you’re Steve!”
“For that very reason,” Denby explained. “If you said Steve merely I shouldn’t notice it, but if you say Dick I shall be on the qui vive at once.”
“Great idea!” cried his fellow conspirator enthusiastically. “When do you buy them?”
“I’ve an appointment at Cartier’s at eleven. Want to come?”
“You bet I do,” Monty asserted, “I’m going through with it from start to finish.”
He looked at his friend a little anxiously. “What is the worst sort of a finish we might expect if the luck ran against us?”
“As you won’t come in on the profits, you shan’t take any risks,” Denby said. “If you agree to help me as we suggested that’s all I require of you. In case I should not get by, you can explain me away as a passing acquaintance merely. Don’t kick against the umpire’s decision,” he commanded. “If they halved the sentence because two were in it I might claim your help all the way, but they’d probably double it for conspiracy, so you’d be a handicap. You’ll get a run for your money, Monty, all right.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Monty doubtfully.
Denby fell into the bantering style the other knew so well. “There’s one thing I’ll warn you about,” he said. “If a very beautiful young woman makes your acquaintance on board, by accident of course, don’t tell her what life seems to you as is your custom. She may be an agent of the Russian secret police with an assignment to take you to Siberia. She may force you to marry her at a pistol’s point and cost your worthy progenitor a million. Be careful, Monty. You’re in a wicked world and you’ve a sinful lot of money, and these big ships attract all that is brightest and best in the criminal’s Who’s Who.”
Monty shivered a bit. “I never thought of that,” he said innocently.