"Then cross out the street and number," he said; "just say I'm stuck in a strange elevator."
She did so, rang, and a servant took away the telegram.
"Now," said the heir apparent to the Prince Regency of Manhattan, "there are two things still" possible. First, you might ring up police headquarters and ask for aid; next, request assistance from fire headquarters."
"If I do," she said, "wouldn't the newspapers get hold of it?"
"You are perfectly right," he said.
She had now drawn her chair so close to the gilded grille that, hands resting upon it, she could look down into the car where sat the scion of the Vanderdynks on a flimsy Louis XV chair.
"I can't express to you how sorry I am," she said. "Is there anything I can do to--to ameliorate your imprisonment?"
He looked at her in a bewildered way.
"You don't expect me to remain here until after New Year's, do you?" he inquired.
"I don't see how you can avoid it. Nobody seems to want to work until after New Year's."