It's my turn now, me being in luck....

But perhaps you don't trust me ?" "You trust me," said Martin, and gave her one of his honest smiles.
He caught sight of a bottle of ink on the window sill.

There was a pen of sorts there also.

He brought them to the table and made out a check in the name of his fellow conspirator.

He was just as anxious as she was to put "a bit of pep" into the little waif who had sat beneath the portrait of his father.