“Come out, Mike,” she said.
Michael stepped forth without embarrassment.
“I was nearly deceived,” she said, “with your precious account of the happening at Sebo’s and then I realized that this could not have been written more than five minutes before. You forgot to blot the last sheet and the ink is still damp.”
She rubbed her fingers over to prove the fact.
“Why aren’t you in Manchester?” she asked.
The staggering question nearly took his breath away.
“Well, if you aren’t the real Kate!” he said admiringly.
“I’m in your chair I’m afraid,” she said.
“Not a bit.”
He dropped into a deep settee.
“Now tell me all the news. But before we go any farther,” he said with mock concern, “wouldn’t you like a chaperone?”
“Don’t worry,” she replied, “I have a chaperone.”
“Not in my flat I hope,” he said in a tone of alarm. “You, I can trust, Kate, but the idea of your low thieving friends being up against all my movable goods gives me a little pain.”
She fished in her bag and produced a little gold case. She opened it and took out a cigarette.
“You won’t have one, of course?”
“Not one of yours, Kate,” he said reproachfully. “No, I’ll have one of my own if you don’t mind.”
“I think you are very rude,” she said with a lift of her brows.
“It’s better to be rudely awake than politely asleep,” he said meaningly. “When one has to deal with clever criminals one has to take all sorts of precautions.”
She laughed and looked at him curiously.
“I wonder what made you a policeman?”
“Nature,” he said promptly.
She was puzzled.
“I don’t quite get your humor,” she said.
“Nature provides all things with some form of protection. It gives the oyster its shell and the tiger its stripes. It gives the squid his ink-sack and the shark his teeth. Nature always produces antidotes. When criminals are stupid they have stupid policemen to deal with them. When criminals are extraordinarily clever, Nature provides the police force with an officer of unusual intelligence. I came to the police in blind obedience to the laws of Nature.”
She laughed softly in his face.
“It’s so nice to be able to discuss things with a man of sensibility,” she said. “Of course, some of my friends are awfully clever and uncle is very philosophical, but then they all take a very one-sided view of things, and I think it’s so much better to hear the other side of every question. You can get two views on all subjects except crime,” she went on. “If you believe in Darwin’s theory you can meet hosts of clever people who bitterly oppose it. If you are a Christian Scientist you can meet hosts of Theosophists. Even if you are a firm believer in monogamy you can generally hire a Mormon to argue on the other side. It is only when we come down to crime that you meet the truly insular view, held by people who know nothing whatever about its finesse, or the genius necessary to break the laws without leaving a big hole to show where you went in and another to show where you came out. That is why I like you, Mike,” she said frankly.
“Any appreciation is very gratifying to me,” said Michael, “but that which is so enthusiastic that it leads my admirer to break into my flat to ravish my secret thoughts, is a little overwhelming.”
“I wanted to know what you were saying about me,” she said, “though I ought to have known that you would not leave things about for me to read—still,” she justified herself, “to do myself justice, I did not expect to find your confidential reports on your desk.”
There was a big safe in one corner of the room.
“I was going to open that.”
She nodded toward the strongbox.
“You saw me the other night,” she turned the conversation suddenly.
“At Sebo’s—yes,” he said, “I saw you.”
“What did you think?” she asked quietly.
“I thought you were with the loquacious Mr. Boltover for a special reason of your own,” he said slowly.
“He is an orator—isn’t he?” she agreed—“but he’s quite a nice boy, really. God didn’t give him brains and it’s not fair to make fun of a man’s deficiencies.”
“What did you want of Reggie?” asked Michael.
“I just wanted to know all about him,” she said, “that kind of people are always interesting to me.”
“What did you want of Reggie?” he asked again.
“How insistent you are!” she laughed.
She got up and began strolling about the room, taking down books from the big bookshelf and examining their titles.
“What catholic tastes you have, Mike—and Tennyson, too. How depraved!”
“You will find a Browning somewhere,” he said carelessly.
“That’s more encouraging,” she smiled. “It’s an awfully comfortable room. Quite like the room I thought you would have.”
She looked at a book plate on the cover of one volume.
“You were at Winchester, I see. So was uncle.”
“The poison and the antidote!”
“You are not fair with uncle. He’s a mental degenerate, too. Crime is a disease with him.”
“And with you?” said Michael quickly.
“It’s a hobby. It’s a tremendous excitement.”
She put the book down and turned to him.
“You don’t know what it’s like. To work things out and make them happen, to cover a couple of sheets of paper with writing and then see all sorts of things move in obedience to those instructions, to see thousands and tens of thousands of pounds change hands, to know that men are going long journeys, that special trains are being run, that telegraph wires are humming all over the Continent, that a dozen brilliant thief-catchers are working and worrying in a vain attempt to undo
