She wheeled on him. "Fosdick?"
He nodded. "His secretary, Waller, was just here."
A few seconds during which he could feel the energy of her swift thoughts. Then, "Wait!" she commanded, and darted into her private office, closing the door.
She was gone twenty minutes. "The person I was calling up hadn't got in," she explained, when she returned. "I had to wait for him. You are to stay here—you are not to go in any circumstances."
"I must go," was his answer in a dreary tone. "I promised Fosdick, and I daren't offend him. Besides—well, it's prudent."
"'Lois," said Narcisse earnestly, "I give you my word of honor, it would be the very worst step you could take, to obey Fosdick and go. I promise you that, if you stay, all will be well. If you go, you would better throw yourself into the sea, midway, for you will ruin your reputation—ours."
He dropped into a chair. "My instinct is against going," he confessed. "I've done nothing. I haven't got a cent that doesn't belong to me honestly. But, Cis, I simply mustn't offend Fosdick."
"Because of Amy?"
"Yes."
"If you go, you'll have no more chance for her than—than a convict in a penitentiary."