He shrugged his shoulders and waited. She turned towards the servant who presently appeared.
“Robert,” she said, “will you telephone for me?”
“Certainly, madam,” the man answered.
“Telephone to 1884 Westminster. Say that you are speaking for Miss Abbeway, and ask Mr. Furley, Mr. Cross, or whoever is there, to come at once to this address.”
“Look here, there’s no sense in that,” Fenn interrupted.
“Will you do as I ask, please, Robert?” she persisted.
The man bowed and left the room. Fenn strode sulkily back to the desk.
“Very well, then,” he conceded, “I give in. Give me the key, and I’ll show you the letter.”
“You intend to keep your word?”
“I do,” he assured her.