“This is Collins, Jane.”
“I recognised your voice. What has happened?”
“Well, here’s the whole thing,” said Cultus softly. “I’ve got a crippled lady out here, and she’s got to have a place to sleep to-night.”
“A crippled lady?”
“Ankle twisted.”
“But I don’t understand. Who is she and how did she get hurt?”
“Jumped off the roof. Sounds funny, eh? Mebbe it is. Anyway, her name is Della, and she’s a dance-hall girl from the War Dance Saloon.”
“That woman?”
“Yea-a-ah; that woman, Jane. She’s in trouble, and I brought her here where she’d be safe.”
“Safe from what?”