Even Taylor smiled as she went. He had nearly met defeat but his habitual luck had made him victor in the end. He hoped it would aid him in a far more difficult interview which was to come. Duncan took advantage of his good humor to ask a question. “Do you really think you can get Miss Cartwright to help us on the Denby case?” He had so often seen her name in the society columns that he doubted if his chief, clever as he was, could successfully influence her. Taylor looked at him curiously. There was in his eyes a look that spoke of more than a faint hope of success. Few knew better than Duncan of his ability to make men and women his tools. “Jim,” he said with an air of confidence, “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she offered to help us.” The door opened and Peter entered. “Miss Ethel Cartwright,” he announced. Taylor rose to his feet as she entered and bowed with what grace he could as he motioned her to a chair. Miss Cartwright was a tall, strikingly pretty woman of twenty-seven, who looked at the deputy-surveyor with the perfect self-possession which comes so easily to those whose families have long been of the cultured and leisured classes. It was plain that this rather languid young lady regarded him merely as some official whom she was bound to see regarding a matter of business. “Sorry if I kept you waiting, Miss Cartwright,” Taylor said briskly. “It doesn’t matter in the least,” she returned graciously. “I’ve never been at the Customs before. I found it quite interesting.” “My name is Taylor,” he said, “and I’m a deputy-surveyor.” “You wanted to see me about a ring, I think, didn’t you?” “Yes,” he answered. “The intention evidently was to smuggle it through the Customs.” “Do you really think so?” she demanded, interested. “I haven’t the faintest idea who could have sent it to me.” “Of course you haven’t,” he said in his blandest, most reassuring manner. It was a manner that made the listening Duncan wonder what was to follow. His chief was always most deadly when he purred. “It’s a mistake,” he continued, “but the record will probably shed some light on the matter. Duncan,” he called sharply, “go and get those papers relating to Miss Cartwright.” His assistant looked at him blankly. “Papers?” he repeated. “What papers, sir?” “The papers relating to the package sent Miss Cartwright from Paris.” There was a significance in his tone that was not lost on Duncan. Gibbs would have argued it out, but Duncan though in the dark followed his cue. “Oh, _those_ papers,” he answered. “I’ll get ’em, sir.” When he had gone the girl turned to Taylor. “Do you know,” she asserted, “I feel quite excited at being here and sitting in a chair in which you probably often examine smugglers. One reads about it constantly.” “It’s being done all the time,” he responded, “among all sorts of people. Now, Miss Cartwright, since we are talking of smuggling, I’d like to have a little business chat with you if I may.”