He was a young and rather attractive looking fellow, cheek tied up in his
handkerchief, where the head of the hammer had knocked off the skin.
"Let me get some witch-hazel," said Sacharissa, rising.
"I want to write a telegram first," he said.
So she brought some blanks, passed them and a pencil down to him through
the grille, and reseated herself.
VII
THE INVISIBLE WIRE
_In Which the Telephone Continues Ringing_
When he had finished writing he sorted out some silver, and handed it and
the yellow paper to Sacharissa.
"It's dark in here. Would you mind reading it aloud to me to see if I've
made it plain?" he asked.
"Certainly," said Sacharissa; and she read:
MRS. DELANCY COURLAND,
Tuxedo.
I'm stuck in an idiotic elevator at 1008-1/2 Fifth Avenue. If I don't
appear by New Year's you'll know why. Be careful that no reporters get
hold of this.
KILLIAN VAN K. VANDERDYNK.
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.
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