Wharton ceased frowning.
"How fixed?" he asked.
Mrs. Earle shrugged her shoulders.
"Cutler's idea is money," she said; "but, believe me, he's wrong. This girl is a vampire. She'll only come back to you for more. She'll keep on threatening to tell the wife, to tell the papers. The way to fix her is to throw a scare into her. And there's only one man can do that; there's only one man that can hush this thing up—that's you."
"When can I see her?" asked Wharton.
"Now," said the woman. "I'll bring her."
Wharton could not suppress an involuntary start.
"Here?" he exclaimed.
For the shade of a second Mrs. Earle exhibited the slightest evidence of embarrassment.
"My room's in a mess," she explained; "and she's not hurt so much as Sammy said. He told her she was in bad just to keep her quiet until you got here."