"You're right; I was unkind. Forgive me. Won't you shake hands? I ... I do want to be a good comrade, since it has pleased Fate to throw us together like this, so--so oddly." Her tone was almost plaintive; unquestionably it was appealing. Maitland was curiously moved by the touch of the slim, cool fingers that lay in his palm. Not unpleasantly. He frowned in perplexity, unable to analyze the sensation. "You're not angry?" she asked. "No--but--but--" "Yes?" "Why do you do this, little woman? Why do you stoop to this--this trade of yo--of ours? Why sully your hands,--and not only your hands,--imperil your good name, to say nothing of your liberty----?" She drew her hand away quickly, interrupting him with a laugh that rang true as a coin new from the mint, honest and genuine. "And this," she cried, "this from Dan Anisty! Positively, sir, you are delightful! You grow more dangerously original every minute! Your scruples, your consideration, your sympathy--they are touching--in _you_!" She wagged her head daintily in pretense of disapprobation. "But shall I tell you?" more seriously, doubtfully. "I think I shall ... truly. I do this sort of thing, since you must know, because--_imprimis_, because I like it. Indeed and I do! I like the danger, the excitement, the exercise of cunning and--and I like the rewards, too. Besides----" The corners of her adorable mouth drooped ever so slightly. "Besides----?" "Why.... But this is not business! We must hurry. Will you, or shall I----?" A crisis had been passed; Maitland understood that he must wait until a more favorable time to renew his importunities. "I will," he said, dropping on his knees by the safe. "In my lady's service!" "Not at all," she interposed. "I insist. The job is now yours; yours must be the profits." "Then I wash my hands of the whole affair," he stated in accents of finality. "I refuse. I shall go, and you can do as you will,--blunder on," scornfully, "with your nitroglycerin, your rags, and drills and--and rouse the entire countryside, if you will." "Ah, but--" "Will you accept my aid?" "On conditions, only," she stipulated. "Halvers?" He shook his head. "Half shares, or not at all!" She was firm. "A partnership?" This educed a moue of doubt, with: "I'm not worthy the honor." "But," he promised rashly, "I can save you--oh, heaps of trouble in other--ah--lays." She shrugged helplessly. "If I must--then I do accept. We are partners, Dan Anisty and I!" He nodded mute satisfaction, brushed the tools out of his way, and bent an attentive ear to the combination. The girl swept across the room, and there followed a click simultaneous with the total extinction of light. Startled, "Why--?" he demanded. "The risk," she replied. "We have been frightfully careless and thoughtless."