the other's quietness, the approach of something epochal.
"It is quite true that within an hour we shall go aboard the Mauretania. But morning will not see us on the rolling deep!"
"Why not?"
"Because, once aboard that liner, we shall quietly disembark from her other side—by way, I mean, of one of the lighters in the slip."
"Go on," prompted Wilsnach. Life had always been too full of surprises to let a small bouleversement like this bewilder him.
"We shall then with equal quietness proceed to a hotel. And in the morning, instead of watching the waves and betting on the day's run, I fancy we shall both be rather busy."
"At what?"
"At the task which has been engaging us for some time, Wilsnach, that of rounding up this Lambert gang."
The agent from the Paris Office sat absorbing this ultimatum.
"And what changed the Chief's mind?" he finally inquired.
"The Chief has not changed his mind. It merely happens that I have changed mine."
"What made you?"
"Remembering certain things, two of which stand out conspicuously from the others. The first is that this gang I speak of can lay claim to the most expert forger that ever handled a pen."
