# The Hand of Peril/Part 4/Chapter 2

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There was silence for a few moments before the deeper-toned voice of Maura Lambert spoke again. "You are going to make this man marry you?" she repeated with a note of incredulity.
"Sure," was Cherry's airy reply. "Is that any worse than bein' a shover for a run-down gang that dasen't stick a head out o' the shell without havin' a federal slooth starin' it in the eye?"
"I fancy that federal sleuth will be out of the service before we are much older," was Maura Lambert's reply.
"Well, I can't live on promises. I've got my chance with Uncle Updyke, an' I'm goin' to take it. An' he's no piker. Why, the first thing he does is to stow a bond-safe in under the stairs as big as a movin' van. I ain't the rubberin' kind, but I would like to know how much junk he's got in that strong-box o' his. An' that ol' guy's got a Japanese valet who can talk in seven diffrent languidges! An' me still wrestlin' with stage-English an' goin' to the mat with the broad A's!"
"Sadie, why should a Mackinaw lumberman have a valet who can speak seven different languages?" demanded Maura Lambert.
"Dearie, don't worry about Uncle Updyke. I'm the down an' outer in this deal; an' that's why I got ​you on the wire this mornin'. You gotta help me out. You gotta dope me out some phoney paper from me Mother-Superior! I know you hate doin' that pen work, but I gotta have somethin' to clinch me past. You gotta forge me a couple o' family charts to steer by!"
A moment's silence ensued in that strange conversation. Then Maura Lambert spoke again.
"Sadie, where did you meet this man?"
"Jus' a minute," reprimanded the other woman. "I wantta put you gerry to my name, from now on. Nix on the Sadie an' the Puggy an' the Wimpel. I've canned that low-brow monacker. After this I'm Francine Florette. Get so you won't be gun-shy to that. An' remember I'm a movie actress temp'ry laid off with water on the knee. An' I've got the knee to show for it. Francine Florette, remember, educated at Ann Arbor an' from an ol' southern family that lost everythin' in the Galveston flood. As for that Uncle Updyke of mine, I met him through Madam De Martinette. She's that astrologist off Herald Square, the fleshy dame who gets fifteen a crack at the crystal, an' fifty for a full readin'. I grubstaked her to tip the old boy off, so things would fall easier for me! An' now he thinks the stars got together an' kind of wished me on him an' calls it Kismet an' spiels about me bein' the reincarnation of his first rag buried out in Kickapoo. How's that for finesse? I guess poor ol' Uncle Updyke's been stung by so many female grafters makin' a straight head-dive for his dough, he's got to dreamin' I'm an angel from above, jus' because I never once squeal for a rake-off!"
​"And still I don't see what you expect out of all this?" was the somewhat scornful conclusion of the other woman.
"As I said before, I'm goin' to make that ol' guy marry me. Then I'll have him nailed for life! If he has the nerve to renig on the splice, I'll cinch him in the only way that's left. I'll clean him out, the first chanct that comes. I'll shovel up ev'ry sou and ev'ry piece of jool'ry I can get in a Gladstone bag an' beat it!"
"And what good will that do you?"
"It'll do me as much good as bein' shover for a note-printer who's goin' to be cornered before he can cry quits!"
There was a pause before either spoke again.
"I almost think you're right," finally admitted Maura Lambert. "I'm beginning to believe he will be cornered, in the end. I feel that we're cornered now, that nothing is safe any more. I always have the impression of being watched. I know I was shadowed to the door of this hotel this morning. And I know it will never be safe for me here!"
"Then what're you goin' to do about it?" was the unsympathetic inquiry.
"You came here to ask for help. But there's one thing in which I've got to ask you for help."
"What's that?"
"Wait a minute."
Kestner, through the silence that ensued, could not catch the sound of any movement, though he felt sure that one of them must have risen and crossed the room.
​"What's the dope?" the voice of Francine Florette finally inquired.
"I want you to take care of these," the other woman explained. "It's not safe for me to keep them any longer. And you would never be suspected of having them!"
"But once more, lady, what's the dope?"
"It's the eight plates that we must keep, whatever happens. They've been taken off the blocks and wrapped in strips of one of my silk underskirts. That is so they can't mar or scratch. Then I've sewn them up in this piece of chamois. That makes them into a small parcel."
The other girl whistled.
"You're not goin' to hand that hardware over to me?" she demanded.
"I've got to hand it to somebody, until things clear up!"
"But what can I do with it?"
"Simply keep it where it's safe until I come for it, or send for it."
"But s'posin' that ol' guy got gerry to me bein' mixed up with a bunch o' paper-pushers? It'd queer me for life. He thinks I'm only ten months out of a private school!"
"It won't be the plates that will enlighten him!"
"But s'posin' they shadow me?"
"Nobody saw you come here, and nobody need see you go away. It's not the first time you've taken care of them. And they are more important than your Saginaw millionaire."
​"Not to me!" amended the other.
"They may be, when you find your millionaire out!" was Maura Lambert's none too sympathetic reply.
"Aw, don't knock me only life-buoy!" There was a moment of silence. "An' if I wet-nurse those plates, do I get that phoney paper about me family-tree?"
"How soon do you want it?"
"The sooner, the better, dearie!"
"Then when you hand these plates back to me in three days' time, I'll do what I can for you about the family papers!"
"An' I want a couple of mash-notes jus' to show the old geezer he ain't the only pebble! An' I'll stow that hardware where a truffle-hound couldn't nose it out!"
There was still another period of silence.
"They'll go in your muff, you see," said the other more carefully modulated voice, "and no one will be any the wiser!"
"Sure," was the abstracted reply. Then came a vague movement or two about the room, and the same voice speaking again. "There's me house number, an' me phone, if anything turns up. But be sure to ask for Francine, dearie, Francine Florette."