Sacharissa flushed deeply. "I can't send this," she said.
"Why not?" demanded the young man, irritably.
"Because, Mr. Vanderdynk, my father, brother-in-law, married sister, and
three younger sisters are expected at the Courlands'. Imagine what effect
such a telegram would have on them!"
"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."
"Stay in a cage--two days and a night!"
"Perhaps I had better call up the police."
"No, no! Wait. I'll tell you what to do. Start that man, Ferdinand, on a
tour of the city. If he hunts hard enough and long enough he'll find some
plumber or locksmith or somebody who'll come."
She rang for Ferdinand; together they instructed him, and he went away,
promising to bring salvation in some shape.
Which promise made the young man more cheerful and smoothed out the
worried pucker between Sacharissa's straight brows.
"I suppose," she said, "that you will never forgive my maid for this--or
me either."