“Nor would I be if I were you,” he replied.

She shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.

“Why fence?” she asked.

“Why, indeed?” he replied.

“And why, may I ask, did you meet me here this afternoon?”

“Curiosity—­later, satisfaction and appreciation.”

“And why do you think I wanted to meet you?”

“Heaven knows!” he replied.

“Suppose, Mr. Harleston, we resume the conversation just where we left off last night.  Your last remark then was that I had a chance to get the articles, but no one else had a chance.  I’m here now for my chance.”

“And that chance depends on a number of contingencies,” he replied:  “whether I have the desired articles; whether you have the title to them, or the right of possession to them; whether they concern private matters or public matters; if the latter, whether the United States is concerned.”

“We can assume the first,” said she.  “I know for a fact that you took the articles in question from the cab, which you found deserted before a vacant lot.”

“How do you know it?” Harleston asked.

“Because, as I told you over the telephone, you were seen—­in fact, I saw you.  I saw you light a match inside the cab, come out with the envelope, look it over quickly, and put it in your pocket.  You’ll admit these facts?”

“I am advised by my counsel that I’m not obliged to answer!” he laughed.

“On the ground that it will incriminate you?” she asked quickly.  “Isn’t that tantamount to admitting the fact?”

“That is a matter of argument, it seems to me.”

She smiled good naturedly and went on: 

“As to your second contingency, Mr. Harleston; the envelope and its contents were left with me for delivery to another party—­which I believe gives me the right of possession, as you term it.  At any rate, it gives me a better title than yours.”

“If the party who left them with you had a good title,” he amended.  “If, however, he obtained them from—­a deserted cab, say—­then his title would be no better than you’ve put in me; not so good, in fact, for according to your tale I have the envelope.”

She shrugged again.

“Now as to your third contingency,” she went on, “I am not able to say what is the nature of the document, nor whom nor what nation it concerns.”

“You mean that you’re ignorant of its contents and its nature?” he asked.

She met his glance frankly.  “I mean that I haven’t any idea of its contents or its purpose.”

He slowly tapped his cigarette against the swinging brass ash-receiver.

“Wouldn’t it be well, my dear Madame X, to lay your cards on the table—­all your cards?”

“I’m perfectly willing, if you’ll do likewise,” she replied instantly.

He looked at her thoughtfully.

“Very well,” he returned.  “Let me see your hand and you shall see mine.”