"And I can swear you didn't do it," said Jane. "But that won't help you if your patients think you have."
"My patients, yes." Gale looked rather thoughtful. "I suppose you're right; I hadn't really thought of that.
A dentist who might be a homicidal maniac - no, it's not a very alluring prospect."
He added suddenly and impulsively:
"I say, you don't mind my being a dentist, do you?"
Jane raised her eyebrows.
"I? Mind?"
"What I mean is, there's always something rather - well, comic about a dentist.
Somehow, it's not a romantic profession.
Now, a doctor everyone takes seriously."
"Cheer up," said Jane. "A dentist is decidedly a cut above a hairdresser's assistant."
They laughed and Gale said: "I feel we're going to be friends. Do you?"
"Yes, I think I do."
"Perhaps you'll dine with me one night and we might do a show?"
"Thank you."
There was a pause, and then Gale said:
"How did you like Le Pinet?"
"It was great fun."
"Had you ever been there before?"
"No, you see -"
Jane, suddenly confidential, came out with the story of the winning sweep ticket.
They agreed together on the general romance and desirability of sweeps and deplored the attitude of an unsympathetic English government.
Their conversation was interrupted by a young man in a brown suit who had been hovering uncertainly near by for some minutes before they noticed him.
Now, however, he lifted his hat and addressed Jane with a certain glib assurance.
"Miss Jane Grey?" he said.
"Yes."
"I represent the Weekly Howl, Miss Grey. I wondered if you would care to do us a short article on this air-death murder.
Point of view of one of the passengers."
"I think I'd rather not, thanks."
"Oh, come now. Miss Grey.
We'd pay well for it."
"How much?" asked Jane.
"Fifty pounds, or - well, perhaps we'd make it a bit more.
Say sixty."
"No," said Jane. "I don't think I could. I shouldn't know what to say."
"That's all right," said the young man easily. "You needn't actually write the article, you know.
One of our fellows will just ask you for a few suggestions and work the whole thing up for you.
It won't be the least trouble to you."
"All the same," said Jane,
"I'd rather not."
"What about a hundred quid?
Look here; I really will make it a hundred.
And give us a photograph."
"No," said Jane. "I don't like the idea."
"So you may as well clear out," said Norman Gale. "Miss Grey doesn't want to be worried."
The young man turned to him hopefully.
"Mr Gale, isn't it?" he said. "Now look here, Mr Gale. If Miss Grey feels a bit squeamish about it, what about your having a shot?
Five hundred words. And we'll pay you the same as I offered Miss Grey - and that's a good bargain, because a woman's account of another woman's murder is better news value. I'm offering you a good chance."
"I don't want it.
I shan't write a word for you."