"My dear sir," he proceeded, unabashed, "I throw myself upon your mercy."
"The devil you do!"
"I must. I'm in the deuce of a hole, and there's no one I know here besides yourself. I—I—"
Kirkwood saw fit to lead him on; partly because, out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of the girl's unconcealed suspense. "Go on, please, Mr. Calendar. You throw yourself on a total stranger's mercy because you're in the deuce of a hole; and—?"
"It's this way; I'm called away on urgent business imperative business. I must go at once. My daughter is with me. My daughter! Think of my embarrassment; I can not leave her here, alone, nor can I permit her to go home unprotected."
Calendar paused in anxiety.
"That's easily remedied, then," suggested Kirkwood.
"How?"
"Put her in a cab at the door."
"I ... No. The devil! I couldn't think of it. You won't understand. I—"