Under Cover Part 38

"Very well," her hostess said, "and we'll expect you in a few minutes, Monty. You're coming, Michael?"

"In just a moment," he returned. "I've got one more old wheeze I want to spring on Denby. He's a capital audience for the elderly ones."

"When Mr. Denby has recovered," she commanded, "come down and play."

"Certainly, my dear," he said obediently.

"And, Michael," she said smiling, "don't think you've fooled me."

"Fooled you," he exclaimed innocently, "why, I'd never even dream of trying to!"

His wife moved toward Denby and took the half-finished highball from his hand.

"Michael," she said, handing it to him, "here's the rest of your drink."

She went from the room still smiling at the deep knowledge she had of her Michael's little ways.

Michael imbibed it gratefully.

"My wife's a d.a.m.ned clever woman," he exclaimed enthusiastically, as he trotted out obediently in her wake.

Directly he had gone Denby went quickly to the door and made sure it was closed tightly. "It was that girl, after all, Monty!" he said in a low, tense voice. "She tried to pry open the drawer with that paper-knife.

You can see the marks. I found the knife on the floor, where she'd dropped it on hearing me at the door."

Monty looked at him with sympathy in his eyes. "That's pretty tough, old man," he said softly.

"It's hard to believe that she is the kind of woman to take advantage of our friendship to turn me over to the police," he admitted. Then his face took on a harder, sterner look. "But it's no use beating about the bush; that's exactly what she did."

"I'm sorry, mighty sorry," Monty said, realizing as he had never done what this perfidy meant to his old friend.

"I don't want to have to fight her," Denby said. "The very idea seems unspeakable."

"What can we do if you don't?" Monty asked doubtfully.

"If she'll only tell me who it is that sent her here--the man who's after me--I'll fight him, and leave her out of it."

"But if she won't do that?" Monty questioned.

"Then I'll play her own game," Denby answered, "only this time she follows my rules for it." As he said this both of the men fancied they could hear a creaking in the next room.

"What's that?" Monty demanded.

Denby motioned to him to remain silent, and then tiptoed his way to the door connecting the rooms.

"Is she there?" Monty felt himself compelled to whisper.

Denby nodded acquiescence and quietly withdrew to the centre of the room.

"Has she heard us?" asked his friend.

"I don't think so. I heard her close the window and then come over to the door."

He crossed to the desk and began to write very fast.

"What are you doing?" Monty inquired softly.

Denby, scribbling on, did not immediately answer him. Presently he handed the written page to Monty. "Here's my plan," he said, "read it."

While Monty was studying the paper Denby moved over to the light switch, and the room, except for the rose-shaded electric lamp, was in darkness.

"Jumping Jupiter!" Monty exclaimed, looking up from the paper with knit brows.

"Do you understand?" Denby asked.

"Yes," Monty answered agitatedly; "I understand, but suppose I get rattled and make a mistake when the time comes?"

"You won't," Denby replied, still in low tone. "I'm depending on you, Monty, and I know you won't disappoint me." When he next spoke it was in a louder voice, louder in fact than he needed for conversational use.

"It's a pity Miss Cartwright has gone to bed," he exclaimed. "I might have risked trying to learn bridge, if she'd been willing to teach me.

She's a bully girl."

"Don't talk so loud," Monty advised him, grinning.

"In these dictagraph days the walls have ears. Let's go outside. We can't tell who might hear us in this room. We'll be safe enough on the lawn."

"A good idea," Denby agreed, moving away from the connecting door which they guessed had a listener concealed behind it, and turning out the lights. And Ethel Cartwright, straining her ears, heard the door opened and banged noisily, and footsteps hurrying past toward the stairway. It was at last the opportunity.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SHE turned the key, less noisily this time, and stepped into Denby's room. Making her way to the drawer she gave it a gentle pull. But it was still fastened, and she grasped the heavy bra.s.s knife when of a sudden the room was full of light, and Denby stepped from the shadow of the door where he had been concealed.

"Oh!" she cried in terror, and turned her face away from him.

He walked slowly over to the table by which she stood.

"So you've come for the necklace, then? Why do you want it?"

She looked at him in desperation. Only the truth would serve her now.

"I am employed by the government. I was sent here to get it," she answered.

"What?" he cried. "The charming Miss Cartwright a secret service agent!

It's quite incredible."