"Yes; but you know he’s a rich fathead. He’s as clear as a glass of water. You’re like"—she paused for a simile—"you’re like something that might be a cocktail—and might be a dose of poison." She turned on me with a new flash in her blue eyes. "Look here! Tell me honest, now. Are you a swell crook—or ain’t you?" [Illustration: She turned on me with a new flash in her blue eyes. "Look here! Tell me honest, now. Are you a swell crook—or ain’t you?" "Suppose I say that—that I ain’t." "Say, kid!" she responded, coldly, "talk like yourself, will you? ... If you’re not a swell crook I can’t make you out.] "Suppose I say that—that I ain’t." "Say, kid!" she responded, coldly, "talk like yourself, will you?" She threw her hands apart, palms outward. "Well, if you’re not a swell crook I can’t make you out." "But as a swell crook you could. Is that it?" "Why do you keep hanging round Miss Averill?" she asked, bluntly. "What do you expect to get by that?" "What do you expect to get by asking me?" Her reply was a kind of challenge. "The truth. Do you know it?" I felt uncomfortable. It was one of the rare occasions on which I had seen this flower-like face drop its bantering mask and grow serious. The _voix de Montmartre_ had deepened in tone and put me on the defensive. "I thought you told me on board ship that you looked on all people of Miss Averill’s class as the prey of those in—in ours." "I don’t care what I told you on board ship. You’re to keep where you belong as far as she’s concerned—or I’ll give the whole bloomin’ show away, as they say in English vawdville." "There again; it’s what you said you wouldn’t do. You said you’d be my friend—" "I’ll be your friend right up to there—but that’s the high-water mark." I thought it permissible to change my front. "If it comes to that, I’ve done no hanging round Miss Averill on my own account. It’s you who’ve come for me to the Hotel Barcelona every time—" "Harry made me do that; but even so—well, you don’t have to fall in the water just because you’re standing on a wharf." "It doesn’t hurt the water if you do. You can get soaked, and make yourself look ridiculous, but the beautiful blue sea doesn’t mind." "You can make it splash something awful, and send ripples all over the lot. Don’t you be too sure of not being dangerous. You wouldn’t be everybody’s choice—but you have that romantic way—like a prince-guy off the level—and she not used to men—or having a lot of them around her all the time, like—" "Like you." "Like me," she accepted, composedly; "and so if I see anything that’s not on the square I’ll—I’ll hand out the right dope about you without the least pity." "And when you hand out the right dope about me what will it be?" "You poor old kid, what do you think it will be? If you make people think you’re a swell crook it’s almost the same as being one." "But do I make people think I’m a swell crook?" "You make me." "What do I do to—"