"
"You might suggest it," Phinuit assented, "but that wouldn't make it
so, it is to mademoiselle's appreciation that you and I owe this treat,
and you know it. Now quit cocking those automatic eyebrows at me;
you've been doing that ever since we met, and they haven't gone off
yet, not once."
Irrepressible, Liane's laughter pealed; and though he couldn't help
smiling, Lanyard hastened to offer up himself on the altar of peace.
"But--messieurs!--you interest me so much. Won't you tell me quickly
what possible value my poor talents can have found in your sight?"
"You tell him, Monk," Phinuit said irreverently--"I'm no tale-bearer."
Monk elevated his eyebrows above recognition of the impertinence, and
offered Lanyard a bow of formidable courtesy.
"They are such, monsieur," he said with that deliberation which becomes
a diplomatic personage--"your talents are such that you can, if you
will, become invaluable to us."
Phinuit chuckled outright at Lanyard's look of polite obtuseness.
"Never sail a straight course--can you skipper?--when you can get there
by tacking. Here: I'm a plain-spoken guy, let me act as an interpreter.
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