Poor Denby, who had been telling himself that Monty’s suspicions were without justification, and that this girl’s good faith could not be doubted even if several circumstances were beyond his power to explain, groaned inwardly. Here she was, trying, he felt certain, to gain his confidence to satisfy the men who were even now investing the house. But he was far from giving in yet. How could she, one of Vernon Cartwright’s daughters, reared in an atmosphere wholly different from this sordid business, be engaged in trying to betray him? “Well,” he said, “suppose I did come over on something more than pleasure, what do you want to know concerning it? And why do you want to know?” “Shall we say feminine curiosity?” she returned. He shook his head. “I think not. There must be something more vital than a mere whim.” “Perhaps there is,” she conceded, leaning forward, “I want us to be friends, really good friends; I regard it as a test of friendship. Why won’t you tell me?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Shall we say man’s intuition? Oh, I know it’s not supposed to be as good as a woman’s, but sometimes it’s much more accurate.” “So you can’t trust me?” she said, steadily trying to read his thoughts. “Can I?” he asked, gazing back at her just as steadily. “Don’t you think you can?” she fenced adroitly. “If you do,” he said meaningly. “But aren’t we friends,” she asked him, “pledged that night under the moon in the Bois? You see I, too, have memories of Paris.” “Then you put it,” he said quietly, “to a test of friendship.” “Yes,” she answered readily. He thought for a moment. Well, here was the opportunity to find out whether Monty was right or whether the woman he cared for was merely a spy set upon him, a woman whose kindnesses and smiles were part of her training. “Very well,” he said, “then so do I. You are right. I did not come to America idly--I came to smuggle a necklace of pearls through the Customs. I did it to-day.” The girl rose from her seat by the little table where she had sat facing him and looked at him, all the brightness gone from her face. “You didn’t, you didn’t!” “I did,” he assured her. She turned her face away from him. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’m sorry.” Denby looked at her keenly. He was puzzled at the manner in which she took it. “But I fooled ’em,” he boasted. She looked about her nervously as though she feared Taylor might have listened to his frank admission and be ready to spring upon them. “You can’t tell that,” she said in a lower-keyed voice. “How can you be sure they didn’t suspect?” “Because I’m comfortably settled here, and there are no detectives after me. And if there were,” he confided in her triumphantly, “they’d never suspect I carry the necklace in my tobacco-pouch.” “But your pouch was empty,” she cried. “How do you know that?” he demanded quickly. “I was here when Lambart spilt it,” she explained hastily. “There it is on the mantel, I meant to have given it to you.”