"You seem to know a good deal about it," I remarked.

"The place interests father," she told me. "He comes here often."

"And you?"

"Sometimes. I am not always in the humor."

I looked at her long and thoughtfully. Her beauty was entirely the beauty
of a young girl. There were no signs of late hours or anxiety in her face.
She puzzled me more than ever.

"I wish I knew," I said, "exactly what you mean when you call yourself an
adventuress."

She laughed.

"It means this," she explained: "To-night I have money in my purse, jewels
on my fingers, a motor car to ride home in. In a week's time, if things
went badly with us, I might have nothing. Then father or I, or both of us,
would go out into the world to replenish, and from whomever had most of
what we desired we should take as opportunity presented itself."

"Irrespective of the law?"

"Absolutely!"

"Irrespective of your sense of right and wrong?"

"My sense of right and wrong, according to your standards, does not