"One of the—best friends I have!" David faltered.
"How does she come to be here?"
"I—I sent for her," David confessed. "I telephoned and——"
"All right. That's enough," Anthony Fry said, composure returning in some degree. "Can she speak English?"
"Not one word."
"Positively," the master of the apartment said slowly, "the thing to do is to have you both arrested, David. Don't start like that and don't speak! There is a certain presumption that this woman is some sort of accomplice, David—not much, perhaps, but one strong enough to hold you until both of you had learned a lesson!"
David, himself, white to the lips, was beyond words.
"Nevertheless," Anthony pursued, only a trifle more gently, "I shall go to no such length, because of the character of the house and the personal reflection such a mess would cast upon myself. Tell the woman to go, David, and then you and I will have a little chat."
"But——" David whispered.
"Tell her to go this instant!" Anthony thundered.