Gibbs and Duncan burst in, their anxious faces breaking into smiles of joy. The Chief’s temper if his plans miscarried was a fixed quantity and an unpleasant one. They had been consoling themselves outside, and Duncan had been wishing he had Gibbs’ outside job. Now everything would be well and they would each be able to boast in his home circle of to-night’s exploit.
“You’re both under arrest,” Taylor said, addressing his captives. “Boys,” he commanded his satellites cordially, “take her into one of those side rooms and keep her there till I call. They can talk without speaking, these two. I’ll question ’em separately.”
For the second time within an hour he searched Denby. From the right-hand pocket of his dinner jacket he took an automatic pistol. From the left he drew out the string of pearls.
“It’s a pippin, all right,” Taylor muttered, his eyes gloating over the treasure. “How much did you pay the girl?”
“Not a cent,” his prisoner asserted. “Nothing. You’re all wrong there.”
“Then why did she tip you off just now?”
“She didn’t tip me off,” Denby told him. “She didn’t say a word, as you yourself must have heard.”
“Can it! can it!” Taylor retorted impatiently. “I saw the result all right, but I couldn’t get on to the cause. What did she do it for?”
Denby shrugged his shoulders and smiled a little. It was the first time he had come off his high horse.
“Maybe,” he hinted, “she didn’t want to see me go to prison.”