course, at any time we wanted to show our hand. It's here, and it can't get away."
"You mean it's the people we want?"
"It's the people we've got to get. The authorities can drop that junk into the Tyrrhenian, any day they see fit. But the people who own the hands that make those plates and prepare that paper can't be allowed to wander about the world at their own sweet will. And when we get one person we get the keystone of their little arch."
"You mean the woman, Lambert's daughter?"
"I mean the woman."
"Then how are you going to get her?"
"I'm going to try a trick of her own. In other words, I think I'll try uttering a forgery. But instead of being on paper, it's going to be on this telephone circuit. To-morrow I'll have a field-transmitter to attach to this bridge I've put on her wire. Then I'll watch my time, and at the right moment have Maresi here call her up, give the pass-word, and speak to her."
"Why Maresi?"
"I'm afraid of my own voice. He can tell her the latest word is for her to get aboard the Pannonia some time before midnight. A cab will call for her, say at eleven, take her to the Marina or to the foot of Via Principe Belmonte, and there a boatman will be waiting to row her out to the steamer. Then I'll cut the wire, so there can be no more calls."
"It's a fine scheme," admitted Wilsnach, "but I don't think any woman would start across the Atlantic at a few words over a telephone."
