“Why, R. J. is supposed to be death on grafters and you’re one yourself.”
“I’m a business man,” Taylor said with a wink. “I’m not a grafter—I should worry about the Government.”
“Well I guess I’ll take a chance,” Denby said, after a momentary pause.
“That’s the idea,” Taylor cried cheerfully.
“Provided,” Denby added, “you let me have a few words with your men. They’ve got to understand I’m innocent, and I want to see how they take it. You see, I don’t know them as well as you do. They’ve got to back you up in squaring me with the Harringtons. You’ve put me in all wrong here, remember.”
“Why sure,” Taylor agreed generously, “talk your head off to ’em.”
“And you’ll leave the girl out of it?”
“I’ll do more than that,” Taylor told him with a grin; “I’ll leave her to you.”
Denby heaved a sigh of relief. “Now we understand one another,” he said. “Here’s your money, Taylor.”
“Much obliged,” Taylor responded. He handed the other the pearls. “I’ve no evidence,” he declared in high good humor, “that you ever had any necklace. Have a cigar, Mr. Denby?”