“No, you didn’t,” Taylor said sharply. “You’re only trying to save her. You can’t deceive me.” He turned to Amy, “Young woman, you’re under arrest.”
“No, no,” the elder sister besought. “Take me. She’s only a child; don’t spoil her life. I’ll do whatever you like; it doesn’t matter about me. For God’s sake don’t do anything to my little sister.”
“She’s guilty,” he reminded her, “and the law says—”
“If somebody pays, what difference does it make to you or the law? Isn’t there anything I can do?” she pleaded.
Taylor paced up and down the room for a half minute before answering, while the two watched him in agony. To them he was one who could deliver them over to prison if it were his whim, or spare if he inclined to mercy.
“Surely there is some way out?” Ethel asked again.
“Yes,” he said, “there is. You can accept my proposition to enter the secret service of the United States Customs.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” she cried, “anything!”
Taylor rubbed his hands together with satisfaction and pride in his inimitable craft. “Now you’re talking!” he exclaimed. “Then we won’t send the little sister to prison.”
Amy sobbed relief in her sister’s arms.