“I guess French has got sense enough to know I’m not that sort,” the latter replied.  “The double-harness stuff doesn’t appeal to me, and he knows it!”

Lenora made a little grimace as she turned away.

“Well,” she said, “it’s brave talk.”

“Almost,” the Professor pointed out, “Amazonian.  Yet in the ancient days even the Amazons were sometimes tamed.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Laura exclaimed, turning away.  “I don’t see why the man wants to make himself look like a walking conservatory, though,” she added under her breath.

“And I think it’s sweet of him,” Lenora insisted.  “If there’s anything I’m longing for, it’s a breath of perfume from those flowers.”

Slowly the great steamer drifted nearer and nearer to the dock, hats were waved from the little line of spectators, ropes were drawn taut.  The Inspector was standing at the bottom of the gangway as they all passed down.  He shook hands with every one vigorously.  Then he presented Lenora with her carnations and Laura with the poinsettias.  Lenora was enthusiastic.  Even Laura murmured a few words of thanks.

“Some flowers, those poinsettias,” the Inspector agreed.

Quest gripped him by the arm.

“French,” he said, “I tell you I shall make your hair curl when you hear all that we’ve been through.  Do you feel like having me start in right away, on our way to the cars?”

French withdrew his arm.

“Nothing doing,” he replied.  “I want to talk to Miss Laura.  You can stow that criminal stuff.  It’ll wait all right.  You’ve got the fellow—­that’s what matters.”

Quest exchanged an amused glance with Lenora.  The Inspector and Laura fell a little behind.  The former took off his hat for a moment and fanned himself.

“Say, Miss Laura,” he began, “I’m a plain man, and a poor hand at speeches.  I’ve been saying a few nice things over to myself on the dock here for the last hour, but everything’s gone right out of my head.  Look here, it sums up like this.  How do you feel about quitting this bunch right away and coming back to New York with me?”

“What do I want to go to New York for?” Laura demanded.

“Oh, come on, Miss Laura, you know what I mean,” French replied.  “We’ll slip off and get married here and then take this man Craig to New York.  Once get him safely in the Tombs and we’ll go off on a honeymoon anywhere you say.”

Laura was on the point of laughing at him.  Then the unwonted seriousness of his expression appealed suddenly to her sympathy.  She patted him kindly on the shoulder.

“You’re a good sort, Inspector, but you’ve picked the wrong girl.  I’ve run along on my own hook ever since I was born, I guess, and I can’t switch my ideas over to this married stuff.  You’d better get a move on and get Craig back to New York before he slips us again.  I’m going to stay here with the others.”

The Inspector sighed.  His face had grown long, and the buoyancy had passed from his manner.