Naturally my attention was attracted to your announcement that you wanted a typewritist to accompany you to the West Indies for the winter. I wrote as modest and taking an answer as I knew how and the fact that it proved most attractive to you out of a hundred you received justified my judgment. The next thing was to hold you fast, when you came to see me, and here again I flatter myself that I evinced the right sort of talent. I sized you up at the start for what you were--a good-natured, easily-led gentleman of means, who would answer very well for my purpose.
Now, see how I proceeded: To have accepted your offer at once would have been to awaken your suspicions. I knew better than that, and I played what is technically known as a waiting game. As I look back on our primary interviews and correspondence I do not see a wrong step on my part. I wrote you that I could be seen "only between the hours of two and four," to give you the impression that I was no ordinary girl who would go anywhere, or with any one, and whom you could lead with a thread.
You were to come at my hours; I knew you would like that. You came, but it was I who saw and conquered. You told me at once that you had engaged berths for two on the Madiana. This showed that you were not likely to back out, but I did not take your word alone. I had a friend verifying your statement at Cook's office within an hour after you left my room.
Had I told you that I would go, that afternoon, you would have had a chance to think it over and perhaps to change your mind. It is the fleeing bird that attracts the attention of the hunter. You gave me the name of "David Camwell, Lambs Club," which before I slept that night I had turned into Donald Camran, from a list of members which I was easily able to procure. I learned that Donald Camran was rich; that he was considered erratic; that he answered your description in personal appearance; and that he had been, as you said, recently ill.
The next time you adopt a false name do not use your own initials. Nine-tenths of the people who do this slip up on that banana peel.
When you left my room, that first afternoon, I was as certain you would return as that the sun would rise on the following day. The chapters of the "novel" you afterwards dictated to me prove how entirely accurate I was in my estimates. I take much pride, also, in the second letter I sent you, for I covered my "fly" with attractive colors to dazzle your eye and meet every point likely to arise in your mind. My card was to convince you that I was the very proper young lady I professed to be. To do this without acting the silly prude was a task fit only for such thoroughly trained hands as mine. Next I spoke of the matter of compensation, to convince you that I was really a working girl and not a mere adventurer. You had plenty of means and the price of my weekly stipend was not likely to alarm you.