"It seems to me we're going through a lot of red tape," she said spitefully.

Mary, from her chair at the desk, regarded the malcontent with a smile, but her tone was crisp as she answered.

"Listen, Agnes. The last time you tried to make a man give up part of his money it resulted in your going to prison for two years."

Aggie sniffed, as if such an outcome were the merest bagatelle.

"But that way was so exciting," she urged, not at all convinced.

"And this way is so safe," Mary rejoined, sharply. "Besides, my dear, you would not get the money. My way will. Your way was blackmail; mine is not. Understand?"

"Oh, sure," Aggie replied, grimly, on her way to the door. "It's clear as Pittsburgh." With that sarcasm directed against legal subtleties, she tripped daintily out, an entirely ravishing vision, if somewhat garish as to raiment, and soon in the glances of admiration that every man cast on her guileless-seeming beauty, she forgot that she had ever been annoyed.

Garson's comment as she departed was uttered with his accustomed bluntness.

"Solid ivory!"

"She's a darling, anyway!" Mary declared, smiling. "You really don't half-appreciate her, Joe!"

"Anyhow, I appreciate that hat," was the reply, with a dry chuckle.

"Mr. Griggs," Fannie announced. There was a smile on the face of the maid, which was explained a minute later when, in accordance with her mistress's order, the visitor was shown into the drawing-room, for his presence was of an elegance so extraordinary as to attract attention anywhere--and mirth as well from ribald observers.

Meantime, Garson had explained to Mary.

"It's English Eddie--you met him once. I wonder what he wants? Probably got a trick for me. We often used to work together."

"Nothing without my consent," Mary warned.

"Oh, no, no, sure not!" Garson agreed.

Further discussion was cut short by the appearance of English Eddie himself, a tall, handsome man in the early thirties, who paused just within the doorway, and delivered to Mary a bow that was the perfection of elegance. Mary made no effort to restrain the smile caused by the costume of Mr. Griggs. Yet, there was no violation of the canons of good taste, except in the aggregate. From spats to hat, from walking coat to gloves, everything was perfect of its kind. Only, there was an over-elaboration, so that the ensemble was flamboyant. And the man's manners precisely harmonized with his clothes, whereby the whole effect was emphasized and rendered bizarre. Garson took one amazed look, and then rocked with laughter.

Griggs regarded his former a.s.sociate reproachfully for a moment, and then grinned in frank sympathy.

"Really, Mr. Griggs, you quite overcome me," Mary said, half-apologetically.

The visitor cast a self-satisfied glance over his garb.

"I think it's rather neat, myself." He had some reputation in the under-world for his manner of dressing, and he regarded this latest achievement as his masterpiece.

"Sure some duds!" Garson admitted, checking his merriment.

"From your costume," Mary suggested, "one might judge that this is purely a social call. Is it?"

"Well, not exactly," Griggs answered with a smile.

"So I fancied," his hostess replied. "So, sit down, please, and tell us all about it."

While she was speaking, Garson went to the various doors, and made sure that all were shut, then he took a seat in a chair near that which Griggs occupied by the desk, so that the three were close together, and could speak softly.

English Eddie wasted no time in getting to the point.

"Now, look here," he said, rapidly. "I've got the greatest game in the world.... Two years ago, a set of Gothic tapestries, worth three hundred thousand dollars and a set of Fragonard panels, worth nearly as much more, were plucked from a chateau in France and smuggled into this country."

"I have never heard of that," Mary said, with some interest.

"No," Griggs replied. "You naturally wouldn't, for the simple reason that it's been kept on the dead quiet."

"Are them things really worth that much?" Garson exclaimed.

"Sometimes more," Mary answered. "Morgan has a set of Gothic tapestries worth half a million dollars."

Garson uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of disgust.

"He pays half a million dollars for a set of rugs!" There was a note of fiercest bitterness come into his voice as he sarcastically concluded: "And they wonder at crime!"

Griggs went on with his account.

"About a month ago, the things I was telling you of were hung in the library of a millionaire in this city." He hitched his chair a little closer to the desk, and leaned forward, lowering his voice almost to a whisper as he stated his plan.

"Let's go after them. They were smuggled, mind you, and no matter what happens, he can't squeal. What do you say?"

Garson shot a piercing glance at Mary.

"It's up to her," he said. Griggs regarded Mary eagerly, as she sat with eyes downcast. Then, after a little interval had elapsed in silence, he spoke interrogatively:

"Well?"

Mary shook her head decisively. "It's out of our line," she declared.

Griggs would have argued the matter. "I don't see any easier way to get half a million," he said aggressively.

Mary, however, was unimpressed.

"If it were fifty millions, it would make no difference. It's against the law."

"Oh, I know all that, of course," Griggs returned impatiently. "But if you can----"

Mary interrupted him in a tone of finality.

"My friends and I never do anything that's illegal! Thank you for coming to us, Mr. Griggs, but we can't go in, and there's an end of the matter."

"But wait a minute," English Eddie expostulated, "you see this chap, Gilder, is----"

Mary's manner changed from indifference to sudden keen interest.

"Gilder?" she exclaimed, questioningly.