Ethel Cartwright shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve got nerves like every other woman,” she confessed, “and the evening has been quite eventful enough as it is. I think I prefer to stay here.”
She glanced up to see Monty descending the stairs. All this talk of robbery and actual participation in a scene of violence had induced in Monty the desire for the company of his kind.
“I thought I’d rather be down here,” he stated naively.
“All right, old man,” Denby said smiling. “Glad to have you. Did you put the pouch where I said?”
“Yes,” Monty answered, handing him a key, “and I locked it up,” he explained.
“Good!” his friend exclaimed, putting the key in his pocket.
Miss Cartwright yawned daintily. “Excitement seems to make me sleepy,” she said. “I think I shall go.”
“You’re not going to leave us yet?” Denby said reproachfully.
“I was up very early,” she told him.
“I guess everything is safe now,” Monty assured her.