"Won't you stay?" she added pleadingly. "Do!"
Mr. Gashwiler's prudence always got the better of his gallantry. "Not
now," he responded in some nervousness. "Perhaps I had better go now,
in view of what you have just said about gossip. You need not mention my
name to this-er--this--Mr. Wiles." And with one eye on the door, and an
awkward dash of his lips at the lady's fingers, he withdrew.
There was no introductory formula to Mr. Wiles's interview. He dashed at
once in medias res. "Gashwiler knows a woman that, he says, can help us
against that Spanish girl who is coming here with proofs, prettiness,
fascination, and what not! You must find her out."
"Why?" asked the lady laughingly.
"Because I don't trust that Gashwiler. A woman with a pretty face and an
ounce of brains could sell him out; aye, and US with him."
"Oh, say TWO ounces of brains. Mr. Wiles, Mr. Gashwiler is no fool."
"Possibly, except when your sex is concerned, and it is very likely that
the woman is his superior.
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