Under Cover Part 12

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 cla.s.ses. 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 rea.s.suring 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 a.s.sistant 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 a.s.serted, "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."

The girl looked at him astonished. She could not conceive that a man like the one looking at her could be serious in talking of a business proposition.

"With me?" she demanded, and Taylor could see that the idea was not pleasing. He resolved to abandon his usual hectoring tactics and adopt softer modes.

"I mean it," he a.s.serted. "You said you've read about all this smuggling and so on. Believe me, you've not read a thousandth part of what's going on all the time, despite all our efforts to check it. The difficult part is that many of the women are so socially prominent that it isn't easy to detect them. They move in the sort of world you move in." He leaned forward and spoke impressively. "But it's a world where neither I nor my men could pa.s.s muster for a moment. Do you follow me?"

"I hear what you say," she said, "but--"

He interrupted her, "Miss Cartwright, we are looking for someone who belongs in society by right. Someone who is clever enough to provide us with information and yet never be suspected. We want someone above suspicion. We want someone, for instance, like you."

That his proposition was offensive to her he could see from the faint flush that pa.s.sed over her face and the rather haughty tone that she adopted.

"Really, Mr. Taylor," she cried, "you probably mean well, but--"

Again he cut her short.

"Just listen a moment, Miss Cartwright," he begged. "I have reason to know that your family has been in financial difficulties since your father died." He looked at her shrewdly. "The position I hinted at could be made very profitable. How would you like to enter the secret service of the United States Customs?" He could see she was far from being placated at his hint of financial reward.

"This is quite too preposterous," she said icily. "It may possibly be your idea of a joke, Mr. Taylor, but it is not mine."

"I'm not joking," he cried, "I'm in dead earnest."

"If that's the case," she returned, rising, "I must ask you to get the papers regarding the ring."

"They'll be here at any moment," he answered. "I'm sorry you don't care to entertain my proposition, but it's your business after all. By the way," he added, after a moment's pause, "there's another little matter I'd like to take up with you while we're waiting. Do you recall a George Bronson, the claim agent of the New York Burglar Insurance Company, the company which insured the jewels that were stolen from you?"

"I think I do," she returned slowly, "but--"

"Well, that company has had a great deal of trouble with society women who have got money by p.a.w.ning their jewels and then putting in a claim that they were stolen and so recovering from the company on the alleged loss."

The girl looked at him, frowning. "Are you trying to insinuate that--"

"Certainly not," Taylor purred amiably. "Why, no. I'm merely explaining that that's what Bronson thought at first, but after investigating, he found out how absurd the idea was."

"Naturally," she said coldly.

She had come into the deputy-surveyor's office with an agreeable curiosity regarding a present sent her from Paris. But the longer she stayed, the less certain did she feel concerning this hard-faced man opposite her, who had the strangest manner and made the most extraordinary propositions. What business was it of his that her jewels had been stolen?

"But there were some things he could not understand," Taylor went on.

"May I ask," she cried, "what Mr. Bronson's inability to understand has to do with you?"

"Simply," said Taylor with an appearance of great frankness, "that he happens to be a very good friend of mine and often consults me about things that puzzle him. The theft of those jewels of yours mystified him greatly."

"Mystified him?" the girl retorted. "It was perfectly simple."

"Perhaps you won't mind telling me the circ.u.mstances of the case."

"Really," she returned sub-acidly, "I don't quite understand how this concerns the Customs."

"It doesn't," he agreed readily, "I am acting only as Bronson's friend and if you'll answer my questions I may be able to recover the jewels for you."

The girl's face cleared. So far from acting inimically, Mr. Taylor was actually going to help her. She smiled for the first time, and resumed her seat.

"That will be splendid," she exclaimed. "I did not understand. Of course I'll tell you everything I know."

"The first feature that impressed Bronson," said the deputy-surveyor, "and me, I'm bound to add, was that the theft seemed to be an inside job."

"What does that mean?" Miss Cartwright queried, interested.

"That there was no evidence that a thief had broken into your home."

"But what other explanation could there be?" she inquired. "Our family consists of just my mother, my sister and myself, and two old servants who have lived with us for years, so of course it wasn't any of us."

"Naturally not," Taylor agreed as though this explanation had solved his doubts. "But how did you come to discover the loss of the diamonds?"

"I didn't discover it myself," she told him. "I was at Bar Harbor."