“I wouldn’t ordinarily.  But I have every moral, ethical, and financial right to be a party to that conversation, only—­well—­”

“With you present there would be no conversation—­is that it?”

“Exactly, Mr. Cardigan.”

“And it is of the utmost importance that you should know what is said?”

“Yes.”

“And you do not intend to use your knowledge of this conversation, when gained, for an illegal or unethical purpose?”

“I do not.  On the contrary, if I am aware of what is being planned, I can prevent others from doing something illegal and unethical.”  “In that event, Shirley, I should say you are quite justified in eavesdropping.”

“But how can I do it?  I can’t hide in a closet and listen.”

“Buy a dictograph and have it hidden in the room where the conversation takes place.  It will record every word of it.”

“Where can I buy one?”

“In San Francisco.”

“Will you telephone to your San Francisco office and have them buy one for me and ship it to you, together with directions for using.  George Sea Otter can bring it over to me when it arrives.”

“Shirley, this is most extraordinary.”

“I quite realize that.  May I depend upon you to oblige me in this matter?”

“Certainly.  But why pick on me, of all persons, to perform such a mission for you?”

“I can trust you to forget that you have performed it.”

“Thank you.  I think you may safely trust me.  And I shall attend to the matter immediately.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Cardigan.  How is your dear old father?  Moira told me sometime ago that he was ill.”

“He’s quite well again, thank you.  By the way, Moira doesn’t know that you and I have ever met.  Why don’t you tell her?”

“I can’t answer that question—­now.  Perhaps some day I may be in a position to do so.”

“It’s too bad the circumstances are such that we, who started out to be such agreeable friends, see so little of each other, Shirley.”

“Indeed, it is.  However, it’s all your fault.  I have told you once how you can obviate that distressing situation.  But you’re so stubborn, Mr. Cardigan.”

“I haven’t got to the point where I like crawling on my hands and knees,” he flared back at her.

“Even for your sake, I decline to simulate friendship or tolerance for your uncle; hence I must be content to let matters stand as they are between us.”

She laughed lightly.  “So you are still uncompromisingly belligerent—­ still after Uncle Seth’s scalp?”

“Yes; and I think I’m going to get it.  At any rate, he isn’t going to get mine.”

“Don’t you think you’re rather unjust to make me suffer for the sins of my relative, Bryce?” she demanded.

She had called him by his first name.  He thrilled.  “I’m lost in a quagmire of debts—­I’m helpless now,” he murmured.  “I’m not fighting for myself alone, but for a thousand dependents—­for a principle—­for an ancient sentiment that was my father’s and is now mine.  You do not understand.”