Page:Phantom-fingers-mearson.pdf/59

hers as I said this—a speech which perhaps deviated a little from the strict line of duty—and I could see the pleasure that came into her eyes, which were just as quickly hidden by her long lashes.

“I know, but there is a very obvious danger to you,” she remonstrated charmingly, in a way that made me forget everything but the glory of her presence on the same earth with me. “I don’t think that you would be very safe—”

“Nonsense,” I said again. “I’m not the game he would be after. He would know, since he seems to know a great deal, that I’m just a detective—not just a person who has amorous designs on you.” I paused, and she had no answer to this except a flicker of amusement in her expressive eyes.

“So far,” I went on, “he has been dangerous only to men who have been closer to you than he thinks proper—who have made love to you, that is—though it’s just stage love. And anyway, I think I'll take the chance—I have to, as a matter of fact. It’s part of my job, thank the Lord.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You are very kind. I don’t think I'll have to call upon you, however. I am really not afraid, you know. How exciting it must be to be a detective, Mr. Muirhead—”

“It isn’t boredom that we die from,” I broke in. “As you can see for yourself. We don’t often get a case as perplexing or mysterious as this. Murder runs