Miss Greta maintained a lofty silence.
"How does she get such a further permission?" said Napier.
"By applying to the proper authority," said Mr. Adler; "in this case to me." The inspector was dabbing some purple ink on a pad. "Now your finger-print, if you please."
Miss Greta drew back, scarlet. "A German is what I am, not a criminal."
"'Ere's where you go." He pointed downwards with a large, blunt thumb.
Napier in his embarrassment looked away from Miss Greta. His glance fell upon Nan. The girl's eyes had filled. "It's an outrage," she said in a choked voice. "That kind of identification is meant for rogues and murderers."
But Miss Greta had recovered herself. "And that sort of person," she said, "of course must object very much. But, after all, why should—people like us?"
Nan pressed close to Greta's side. "Yes, you must finger-print me, too!" she said between pleading and command. "I'm every bit as much an alien as this lady."
"Not if you're an American. She's an enemy alien."
"She's not an enemy. You oughtn't to say such things."