I told them the story of how Jeff had taken me to Léontine's swell supper party—leaving out names and places, of course—and how I had offered to rob John's house more to show off than anything else, and as a demonstration of American methods for Chu-Chu le Tondeur and Ivan, the head of the mob. When I told them how Léontine had insisted on coming with me for the sheer excitement of the thing, although not a professional thief herself, Miss Dalghren's blue eyes sparkled.
"I can understand that," she said. "Is she very beautiful, this woman?"
"Yes," I answered; "she's a big, gorgeous sort of tigress."
"She rather fancied you, eh?" said John.
"Such women have fierce, sudden fancies," I answered. "No doubt hers may have rested on me for the hour. I never saw her until that night. It was her gun that I had when you fired. I never carry a loaded gun myself when doing a piece of work."
"Why not?" asked Miss Dalghren.
"It's not sportsmanlike. Besides, I wouldn't take the life of people defending their property. I always felt that if I failed to pull off the job by skill I'd take the consequences. That makes the game all the more interesting."
"Then you burgled less for the goods than for the game?"
I was out for both," I answered. "Mind you, I don't pose for a kid-glove burglar. Once or twice when I've been interrupted I've bluffed out the householder by the roughest sort of treatment.
