"I had not meant to imply that it did," Anthony said dully.
"You got me here and you've kept me here," said Mary, and it was plain that her even temper had not yet returned. "You'll have to devise the way to get me out of here and what to say when I do get home."
"Yes," murmured Anthony.
"And if it will help any in rousing you out of that apathetic state," the girl concluded, "you may as well know that there isn't the slightest doubt in the world that the police have a general alarm for me long before this!"
"Wow!" said Johnson Boller.
"I am—trying to think!" Anthony said with difficulty.
So far as posture went, he looked it. His lean hands were gripping the edges of the table nervously, and his head was bent again; he scowled and then shook his head as if to dispel the scowl. He cleared his throat repeatedly; he glanced at Johnson Boller, whose expression was divided between irrepressible amusement and some concern—and he cleared his throat once more and stared his fried egg fixedly in its lone eye.
Thus he was sitting after five silent minutes, which both Mary and Boller had improved gastronomically, when Wilkins entered.
"Beg pardon, Mr. Fry," said he. "A gentleman to see you."
"I can't see him," Anthony said quickly.