in your family tree that you sigh for sudden change and a life on the ocean wave?”
Monty laughed. “I don’t want to do anything like that but I’m tired of a life that is always the same. You’ve enemies. I don’t believe I’ve one. I’d like to have an enemy, Steve. I’d like to feel I was in danger; it would be a change after being wrapped in wool all my life. You’ve probably seen the world in a way I never shall. I’ve been on a personally conducted tour, which isn’t the same thing.”
“Not by a long shot,” Steven Denby agreed. “But,” he added, “why should you want to take the sort of risks that I have had to take, when there’s no need? I have been in danger pretty often, Monty, and I shall again. Why? Because I have my living to make and that way suits me best. You notice I am sitting with my back to the wall so that none can come behind me. I do that because two revengeful gentlemen have sworn bloodthirsty oaths to relieve my soul of its body.”
Monty tingled with a certain pleasurable apprehension which had never before visited him. He was experiencing in real life what had only revealed itself before in novels or on the stage.
“What are they like?” he demanded in a low voice, looking around.
“Disappointing, I’m afraid,” Steven answered. “You are looking for a tall man with a livid scar running from temple to chin and a look before which even a waiter would blanch. Both my men have mild expressions and wouldn’t attract a second glance, but they’ll either get me or I’ll get them.”
“Steve!” Monty cried. “What did they do?”
Denby made a careless gesture. “It was over a money matter,” he explained.
Monty thought for a moment in silence. Never had his conventional lot seemed less attractive to him. He approached the subject again as do timid men who fearfully hang on the outskirts of a street fight, unwilling to miss what they have not the heart to enjoy.
“I wish some excitement like that would come my way,” he sighed.
“Excitement? Go to Monte and break the bank. Become the Jaggers of your country.”
“There’s no danger in that,” Monty answered almost peevishly.
“Nor of it,” laughed his friend.
“That’s just the way it always is,” Monty complained. “Other fellows have all the fun and I just hear about it.”
Denby looked at him shrewdly and then leaned across the table.
“So you want some fun?” he queried.
“I do,” the other said firmly.
“Do you think you’ve got the nerve?” Steven demanded.
Monty hesitated. “I don’t want to be killed,” he admitted. “What is it?”
“I didn’t tell you how I made a living, but I hinted my ways were a bit irregular. What I have to propose is also a trifle out of the usual. The law and the equator are both imaginary lines, Monty, and I’m afraid my little expedition may get off the line. I suppose you don’t want to hear any more, do you?”
Monty’s eyes were shining with excitement. “I’m going to hear everything you’ve got to say,” he asserted.
“It means I’ve got to put myself in your power in a way,” Denby said hesitatingly, “but I’ll take a chance because you’re the kind of man who can keep things secret.”
“I am,” Monty said fervently. “Just you try me out, Steve!”
“It has to do with a string of pearls,” Denby explained, “and I’m afraid I shall disappoint you when I tell you I’m proposing to pay for them just as any one else might do.”
“Oh!” said Monty. “Is that all?”
“When I buy these pearls, as you will see me do, with Bank of France notes, they belong to me, don’t they?”
“Sure they do,” Monty exclaimed. “They are yours to do as you like with.”
“That’s exactly how I feel about it,” Denby said. “It happens to be my particular wish to take those pearls back to my native land.”
“Then for heaven’s sake do it,” Monty advised. “What’s hindering you?”
“A number of officious prying hirelings called customs officials. They admit that the pearls aren’t improved by the voyage, yet they want me to pay a duty of twenty per cent. if I take them home with me.”
“So you’re going to smuggle ’em,” Monty cried. “That’s a cinch!”
“Is it?” Denby returned slowly. “It might have been in the past, but things aren’t what they were in the good old days. They’re sending even society women to jail now as well as fining them. The whole service from being a joke has become efficient. I tell you there’s risk in it, and believe me, Monty, I know.”
“Where would I come in?” the other asked.
“You’d come in on the profits,” Denby explained, “and you’d be a help as well.”
“Profits?” Monty queried. “What profits?”
Denby laughed. “You simple child of finance, do you think I’m buying a million-franc necklace to wear about my own fair neck? I can sell it at a fifty thousand dollar profit in the easiest sort of way. There are avenues by which I can get in touch with the right sort of buyers without any risk. My only difficulty is getting the thing through the customs. It’s up to you to get your little excitement if you’re game.”
Monty shut his eyes and felt as one does who is about to plunge for the first swim of the season into icy water. It was one thing to talk about danger in the abstract and another to have it suddenly offered him.
Steven had talked calmly about men who wanted to part his soul from his body as though such things were in no way out of the ordinary. Suppose these desperate beings assumed Montague Vaughan to be leagued with Steven Denby and as such worthy of summary execution! But he put aside these fears and turned to his old friend.
“I’m game,” he said, “but I’m not in this for the profits.” Now he was once committed to it, his spirits began to rise. “What about the danger?” he asked.
“There may be none at all,” the other admitted. “If there is it may be slight. If by any chance it is known to certain crooks that I have it with me there may be an attempt to get it. Naturally they won’t ask me pleasantly to hand it over, they’ll take it by force. That’s one danger. Then I may be trailed by the customs people, who could be warned through secret channels that I have it and am purposing to smuggle it in.”
“But what can I do?” Monty asked. He was anxious to help but saw little opportunity.
“You can tell me if any people follow me persistently while we’re together in Paris or whether the same man happens to sit next to me at cafés or any shows we take in.” He paused a moment, “By Jove, Monty, this means I shall have to book a passage on the Mauretania!”
“That’s the best part of it,” Monty cried.
“But Mrs. Harrington,” Denby said. “She might not like it.”
“Alice can’t choose a passenger list,” Monty exclaimed; “and she’ll be glad to have any old friend of mine.”
“That’s a thing I want to warn you of,” the other man said. “I don’t want you to give away too many particulars about me. Don’t persist in that fable about my saving your life. Know me just enough to vouch to her that I’m house-broken but don’t get to the point where we have to discuss common friends. I have my reasons, Monty, which I’ll explain later on. I don’t court publicity this trip and I don’t want any reporter to jump aboard at Quarantine and get interested in me.”
“I see,” cried the sapient Monty and felt he was plunging at last into dark doings and mysterious depths. “But how am I to warn you if you’re followed? I shall be with