She nodded. "I'm quite sure of it; and the code-book confirms me. It is
up to you to procure the letter; I'll do the rest, if any rest is
necessary. We may be headed for Europe by evening, Marston; in which
event, the cipher letter is of no consequence to us."
"You'll be glad to get back to Paris?" he asked.
"I shall, indeed--won't you?"
"I'm quite content anywhere, so long as I am working with you," he
answered. It was much as a faithful dog would wag his tail and snuggle
up for a pat of the hand.
She smiled straight into his eyes--a frank, appreciative smile, as
though an intimate camaraderie existed between them, and would never be
violated by either. She would have been in danger had she smiled that
way at some men; they would not have remained quiescent. And a little
more aggression by Marston might have been more conducive for
success--less of the faithful dog and more of the independent
subordinate and the equal human. As it was, he was only a plaything.
"Now, my friend, if you're done you may go," she said briskly. "I must
dress, and you're rather _de trop_ at such a time, however much you may
be welcome at another. And, Marston, don't miss the copy of the letter;
I'll expect you with it at seven; we'll make the translation together,
either here or on the train to New York.
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