"I'll just say you lie," said Grannis.
"I wonder which one of us Mr. Zenda will believe," retorted Clancy.
"I've never been in jail. I've got no criminal record," said Grannis.
"Neither have I!" cried Clancy.
Grannis smiled. It was a nasty smile, a smile that chilled Clancy. The advantage that she had felt was somehow hers seemed to have left her. She became suddenly just what she always was, a young girl, unwise in the ways of the metropolis. Courage, desperation made her forget this, but when courage ebbed, though ever so slightly, she became fearful, conscious of a mighty aloneness. She felt this way now.
For Grannis turned and walked to a farther door, opposite the one which the tall youth had locked. He opened it and cried out dramatically,
"Come in, Mrs. Weber!"
Clancy's fingers stopped drumming on the table. She eyed, wonderingly and fearfully, the tall figure of Fay Marston, who was cloaked in a short squirrel-skin jacket. Below that appeared the skirt of a dark-blue dress. Her shoes, despite the inclement weather, were merely slippers. Her blond hair was almost entirely hidden by a jaunty hat, also of a squirrel-skin. Altogether, she was an amazingly prosperous-seeming individual. And she was the sort of person to whom prosperity would always bring insolence of manner. Her expression now was languidly insulting as she looked at Clancy.
"This the woman?" asked Grannis.
Fay nodded.