Under Cover Part 6

"Good old Michael," said Monty, "I wish he were here. Why isn't he?"

"Something is being reorganized and the other people want his advice."

She laughed. "I suppose he is really good at that sort of thing, but he gets so hopelessly muddled over small accounts that I can't believe it.

He was fearfully sorry not to have seen his colt run at Deauville. I shall have to tell him all about it."

"I read the account," said Denby. "St. Mervyn was the name, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "He won by a short head. Michael always likes to beat French horses. I'm afraid he isn't as fond of the country as I am. The only thing he really likes here is the _heure de l'aperitif_. He declares it lasts from four-thirty till seven." She laughed. "He has carried the habit home with him."

"Did you win anything?" Denby asked.

"Enough to buy some presents at Cartier's," she returned. "I've bought something very sweet for Nora Rutledge," she said, turning to Monty.

"Aren't you curious to know what? It's a pearl la valliere."

"Then for Heaven's sake, declare it!" Monty cried.

"Oh, no," she said, "I'll pay if it's found, but it's a sporting risk to take and you can't make me believe smuggling's wrong. Michael says it's a Democratic device to rob Republican women."

"Ask Mr. Denby," Monty retorted. "He knows."

"And what do you know, Mr. Denby?" she demanded.

"That the customs people and the state department see no humor in that sort of a joke any longer. You read surely that society women even have been imprisoned for taking sporting risks?"

"Milliners who make a practice of getting things through on their annual trip," she said lightly. "Of course one wouldn't make a business of it, but I've always smuggled little things through and I always shall."

"Well, I wouldn't if I were you," said Monty. "Mr. Denby has frightened me."

Alice Harrington looked at him curiously.

"Have you been caught?" she asked with a smile.

"I've seen others caught," he returned, "and if any sister of mine had to suffer as they did by the publicity and the investigation the customs people are empowered and required to make, I should feel rather uncomfortable."

"What a depressing person you are," she laughed. "I had already decided where to hide the things. I think I shall do it after all. It's been all right before, so why not now?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It may be the new brooms are sweeping clean or it may be the state department has said smuggling shall no longer be condoned. I only know that things are done very differently now."

Monty looked at him in amazement. His expression plainly meant that he considered his friend the proprietor of an unusually large supply of sheer gall.

"I heard about that," she said, "but one can't believe it. There's a mythical being known only by his initials who is investigating for the state department. Even Michael warned me, so he may have some inside tip. Have you heard of him, Mr. Denby?"

"I was thinking of him," he answered. "I think they call him R. B. or R.

D. or some non-committal thing like that."

"And you believe in him?" she asked sceptically.

"I'm afraid I do," he returned.

"The deuce you do!" Monty cried, aggrieved. He had been happy for the last few hours in the belief that his friend was too well armed to get detected, and here he was admitting, in a manner that plainly showed apprehension, that this initialed power might be even on his track.

"You never smuggle," Alice Harrington said, smiling. "You haven't the nerve, Monty, so you need not take it to heart."

"But I do nevertheless," he retorted.

"Monty," she cried, "I believe you're planning to smuggle something yourself! We'll conspire together and defeat that abominable law."

"If you must," Denby said, still gravely, "don't advertise the fact.

Paris has many spies who reap the reward of overhearing just such confidences."

"Spies!" She laughed. "How melodramatic, Mr. Denby."

"But I mean it," he insisted. "Not highly paid government agents, but perhaps such people as chambermaids in your hotel, or servants to whom you pay no attention whatsoever. How do you and I know for example that Monty isn't high up in the secret service?"

"Me?" cried Monty. "Well, I certainly admire your brand of nerve, Steve!"

"That's no answer," his friend returned. "You say you have been two years here studying Continental banking systems. I'll bet you didn't even know that the Banque de France issued a ten thousand franc note!"

"Of course I did," Monty cried, a little nettled.

Denby turned to Mrs. Harrington with an air of triumph.

"That settles it, Monty is a spy."

"I don't see how that proves it," she answered.

"The Banque de France has no ten thousand franc note," he returned; "its highest value is five thousand francs. In two years Montague Vaughan has not found that out. The ordinary tourist who pa.s.ses a week here and spends nothing to speak of might be excused, but not a serious student like Monty."

"I will vouch for him," Mrs. Harrington said. "I've known him for years and I don't think it's a life suited to him at all, is it, Monty?"

"Oh, I don't know," said he airily. "I may be leading a double life." He looked at her not without an expression of triumph. Little did she know in what a conspiracy he was already enlisted. After an excellent repast and a judicious indulgence in some rare wine Monty felt he was extraordinarily well fitted for delicate intrigue, preferably of an international character. He stroked his budding moustache with the air of a gentleman adventurer.

Alice Harrington smiled. She was a good judge of character and Monty was too well known to her to lend color to any such notion.

"It won't do," she averred, "but Mr. Denby has every earmark of it.

There's that piercing look of his and the obsequious way waiters attend on him."

Monty laughed heartily. He was in possession of a secret that made such an idea wholly preposterous. Here was a man with a million-franc pearl necklace in his pocket, a treasure he calmly proposed to smuggle in against the laws of his country, being taken for a spy.

"Alice," he said still laughing, "I'll go bail on Steve for any amount you care to name. I am also willing to back him against all comers for brazen nerve and sheer gall."

Denby interrupted him a little hastily.

"As we two men are free from suspicion, only Mrs. Harrington remains uncleared."

"This is all crazy talk," Monty a.s.serted.

"I know one woman, well known in New York, who goes over each year and more than once has made her expenses by tipping off the authorities to things other women were trying to get through without declaration."