Lanyard pretended not to know he had managed to stagger her a second time: "If you would be so gracious as to telephone the good man—one assumes you know his number—"
"But Morphy's never at home in the evening."
"Nevertheless I venture to prophesy he will be found at home this evening, and not far from the telephone, either—providing you call him without too much delay."
"Morphew?" Folly re-echoed as if she mistrusted her ears.
"You are such great friends, he won't think it strange if you turn to him for friendly offices in your distress—"
"But I'm not in any distress."
"Precisely there is the favour I would beg of you, madame; to make believe you are, to tell Monsieur Morphew that something so disturbing has just happened, you can not rest without his advice. If you will do that, I think you will find him more than willing to oblige you, to wait on you here with all possible expedition."
"But what on earth—!"
"That I will make clear when you have telephoned. If you put it off until the Mallison lot is permitted to call in counsel and arrange for bondsmen, you won't catch Monsieur Morphew at home."
Lanyard endured gracefully the probe of mistrustful eyes, only a whimsical twitch of lips reminded Folly at length of his exemplary patience; whereupon she did a good descriptive bit with pretty shoulders and plumped herself down at the telephone.