A Question of Trust Horace said, “I would, of course, cut the telephone wires first and then...,” he hesitated, a smile on his face, “I would make sure that you could do nothing for some time. A few hours would be enough.” She looked at him seriously. “You’d hurt me?” Horace paused, and then said, “I think I was trying to frighten you when I said that.” “You didn’t frighten me.” Horace suggested, “It would be nice if you would forget you ever saw me. Let me go.” The voice was suddenly sharp.
“Why should I? You were going to rob me. If I let you go, you’ll only rob someone else. Society must be protected from men like you.” Horace smiled.
“I’m not a man who threatens society. I steal only from those who have a lot of money. I steal for a very good reason. And I hate the thought of prison.” She laughed, and he begged, thinking that he had persuaded her, “Look, I have no right to ask you for anything, but I’m desperate.
Let me go and I promise never to do this kind of thing again. I really mean it.” She was silent, watching him closely. Then she said, “You are really afraid of going to prison, aren’t you?” She came over to him shaking her head. “I have always liked the wrong kind of people.” She picked up a silver box from the table and took a cigarette from it.
Horace, eager to please her and seeing that she might help him, took off his gloves and gave her his cigarette lighter. “You’ll let me go?” He held the lighter towards her. “Yes, but only if you’ll do something for me.” “Anything you say.” “Before we left for London, I promised my husband to take my jewels to our bank; but I left them here in the safe. I want to wear them to a party tonight, so I came down to get them, but…” Horace smiled.
“You’ve forgotten the numbers to open the safe, haven’t you?” “Yes,” replied the young lady. “Just leave it to me and you’ll have them within an hour. But I’ll have to break your safe.” “Don’t worry about that. My husband won’t be here for a month, and I’ll have the safe mended by that time.”