Thanks. Bill and I will need it this afternoon, and even if things go according to Hoyle, we’ll be powerful busy. In the meantime, I’ve got a job for you and Dorothy.” He took out his pocketbook and extracting a sheaf of bills, handed them to the girl.

“You and Howard are going to have a busy afternoon, too. See that you’re back here in time for dinner at seven, and—”

“But what under the sky-blue canopy is all this?” Dorothy was thumbing the bills, counting them. “Why, I’ve never seen so much money—”

“Use it to buy your cousin a trousseau. Have the things sent to Mrs. Howard Bright’s apartment at this hotel. And remember, that when she arrives here, Janet will have nothing but the clothes she is wearing. You don’t mind doing this, do you?”

“Mind! Why, I’ll love it!” Dorothy turned a dazzling smile on Howard, who was simply tongue-tied by the detective’s announcement. “Isn’t he swell, Howard? Isn’t he some guy?”

Ashton Sanborn laughed. “Don’t thank me. Uncle Sam is paying, so you needn’t bring back any change.”

Dorothy thrust the money into her purse. “Don’t worry, old bean, I won’t. So long, you two. Come on, Howard, we’re going to have a beautiful afternoon!” She caught young Bright by the arm and whirled him across the room to the coat-rack. She jammed a bright green beret over her right ear and slung her leopard-cat coat onto her shoulders. “All set for Fifth Avenue!” she called out merrily as she preceded Howard out of the room.

Chapter V

ON SECRET SERVICE

To say that Dorothy enjoyed her afternoon’s shopping would be putting it mildly. Give any girl plenty of money and tell her to go out and buy an entire trousseau for herself—or even for somebody else—and watch her jump at the chance!

Howard trailed along in more or less of a daze. This sudden change in his outlook; being drawn from the depths of despondency to the hope of a future with the girl he loved, and all in the space of a couple of hours, was a little too much for him to realize at once. Ever after, he had but a hazy recollection of that shopping tour. The afternoon seemed but a whirling maze of lingerie, stockings, street dresses, party frocks, coats, hats, shoes and accessories, upon which his advice was invariably asked, and never taken.

They were bowling hotelwards in a taxi, jammed with cardboard boxes and packages of various shapes and sizes, before he returned to normal.

“Whew!” he looked at Dorothy. “I should think you’d be dead!”

She shook her head and laughed. “No girl ever gets tired of shopping,” she told him gaily. “Wait till you’re married—you’ll find out.”

“But what’s the idea of bringing all these things back with us? I thought Mr. Sanborn said to have them sent.”

“He did—but I have a better idea. This is part of it. I’ll tell you all about it when we get to the hotel. Keep still now—I want to go over the lists and see if I’ve forgotten anything!”

Howard sighed in resignation.

At the hotel desk they learned that Ashton Sanborn had not returned as yet, but had left word that they should go to his rooms. With the assistance of three bellboys, they piled themselves and their packages into the elevator.

“Gee! This looks like the night before Christmas!” Howard dropped his hat and overcoat and stared at the boxes and bundles piled along the wall of the sitting room. “Janet certainly will be surprised when she sees all those things!”

Dorothy pulled off her close-fitting little hat, and tossed it with her purse and coat onto the table. Then she sank into an easy-chair. “Well, I only hope she’ll approve. My, this was a strenuous afternoon. You’d better sit down.”

Howard followed her advice. “You said it. But I know Janet—she’ll be crazy about the things you’ve bought.”

“Oh, you boys are all alike.” Dorothy yawned unashamedly.

“I don’t get you.”

“What I mean is that as soon as a fellow goes round with a girl for a while, he invariably says ‘Oh yes, she’ll like this,’ or, ‘she won’t like that’.”

“And—?”

“Ninety-nine times out of a hundred you guess wrong.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s because girls like to do their own choosing. Especially when it comes to buying clothes. Well, anyway, I think the things are darling, and they’ll be becoming, too. At least they look well on me.”

“Don’t worry—those clothes will make her look like a million dollars.”

“I know they will. I’m tired, I guess.” Dorothy yawned again and closed her eyes.

Howard started to say something, thought better of it, yawned, and let his head pillow itself on the soft upholstery.

Three quarters of an hour later, Ashton Sanborn and Bill Bolton marched into the room to find the two shoppers sound asleep in their respective chairs. The detective coughed discreetly and both the young people awoke.

“I see that you’ve brought your spoils back with you,” he smiled, pointing to the boxes and bundles. Dorothy stared at him, only half awake, then sat upright in her chair as she realized where she was.

“Looks to me,” said Bill, getting out of his overcoat, “as if she thought Janet was going to start a shop of her own. Why did you cart all the stuff back here instead of having it sent?”

“Because, Mr. Inquisitive—well, just because. You and Howard run along now and prepare your handsome selves for dinner. The principles of this piece are going into conference now.”

“My word—” began Bill, but at a shake of the head from Sanborn, he took the still drowsy Howard by the arm and together they disappeared into the bedroom.

“Pretty tough time you’ve had, I expect?” Mr. Sanborn’s eyes twinkled, though his tone was grave.

“Oh, but it was lots of fun,” cried Dorothy. “Thanks to Uncle Sam, and Uncle Sanborn! And look here, I’ve got a great idea.”

“Which has to do with your bringing back the packages yourself?”

“Quite right, it has. Do you think those boys can hear what we’re saying?”

“I doubt it, Dorothy—but Bill, as you probably guessed at the end of the affair of the Winged Cartwheels, is a full-fledged member of my organization and—”

“Oh, I don’t mind Bill,” she interrupted in a low tone. “But Howard mustn’t get wind of it. He might make a fuss.”

She rose from her chair and going over to the detective, began to whisper in his ear.

“But that’s impossible, Dorothy!” he protested, although he allowed a smile to come to his eyes. “And what’s more, my dear, I’m afraid it would be illegal.”

“Oh, no, it wouldn’t! Not if you—” And again she brought her lips close to his ear.

“You’re a young scamp!” he laughed as she ended. “But—well—you’re doing a great deal for me, so—”

“So you’ll go downstairs and start telephoning right away!” she prompted eagerly.

Ashton Sanborn held up his hands in mock despair. “Nieces,” he declared, “should not badger hard-working old uncles. But since this niece has been a good girl today, Uncle will do as he’s asked.”

“I shall never call you anything else but Uncle Sanborn, now,” Dorothy cried delightedly.

“Thanks, my child, and I’ll do my best for you.”

“Angel uncles can do no more,” she laughed.

“Right-o. I’ll be on my way, then. Come along in about fifteen minutes with Bill and Howard. I’ll arrange for a table for dinner and meet you three in Peacock Alley.” The detective caught up his hat and hurried out of the room.

Although Mr. Sanborn was a perfect host, and did all he could to make that dinner entertaining, he confessed later that he would always consider it one of the few failures of an