It was early in the evening, but the big house was lighted as if for a reception; lights in the rooms above, lights in the library and hall and drawing-room.Doctor Quimby's horse and buggy stood by one of the hitching posts and the Colton motor car was drawn up by the main entrance.From the open windows of the servants'
quarters came the sounds of excited voices.I hastened to the front door.Before I could push the button of the electric bell the door was opened.Johnson, the butler, peered out at me.Most of his dignity was gone.
"Is it you, Mr.Paine?" he asked, anxiously."Come in, sir, please.Miss Mabel has been asking for you not a minute ago, sir."I entered the hall."What is it, Johnson?" I asked, quickly."How is Mr.Colton?"The butler looked behind him before replying.He shook his head dubiously.
"He's awful ill, sir," he whispered."The doctor's been with him for an hour; 'e's unconscious and Mrs.Colton is takin' on something terrible.It's awful, sir, ain't it!"His nervousness was sufficient indication of the general demoralization of the household.And from one of the rooms above came the sobs of a hysterical woman.
"Brace up, man," I whispered in reply."This is no time for you to go to pieces.Where is Miss Colton?""She's with her father, sir.Step into the library and I'll call her."He was not obliged to call her, for, at that moment, I heard her voice speaking from the head of the stairs.
"Who is it, Johnson?" she asked, in a low tone.
"It's Mr.Paine, Miss Mabel."
I heard a little exclamation, of relief it seemed to me.Then she appeared, descending the staircase.Her face was, as Lute had said, pale, but her manner was calm, much calmer than the butler's.
She came to me and extended her hand."Thank you for coming," she said."I was sure you would.""How is your father, Miss Colton?" I asked.
"He is no worse.Come into the library, please.Johnson, if Mother or the doctor need me, I shall be in the library.Come, Mr.
Paine."
We entered the library together.The room in which I had had my two memorable encounters with "Big Jim" Colton was without its dominant figure now.His big armchair was drawn up beside the table and the papers and writing materials were in the place where I had seen them.A half-burned cigar lay in the ash tray.But the strong fingers which had placed it there were weak enough now and the masterful general of finance was in his room upstairs fighting the hardest battle of his life, fighting for that life itself.Adoor at the end of the library, a door which I had not noticed before, was partially open and from within sounded at intervals a series of sharp clicks, the click of a telegraph instrument.Iremembered that Colton had told me, in one of his conversations, that he had both a private telephone and telegraph in his house.
Miss Colton closed the door behind us, and turned to me.
"Thank you for coming," she said, again."I need help and I could think of no one but you.You have hurried dreadfully, haven't you!"She was looking at my forehead.I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror above the mantel and reached for my handkerchief.
"I must have run every step of the way," I answered."I didn't realize it.But never mind that.Tell me about your father.""He was taken ill soon after he returned from your house.He was in the library here and I heard him call.When I reached him he was lying upon the couch, scarcely able to speak.He lost consciousness before we could get him to his room.The doctor says it is what he has feared, an attack of acute indigestion, brought on by anxiety and lack of rest.It was my fault, I am afraid.
Last night's worry-- Poor Father!"
For just a moment I feared she was going to break down.She covered her eyes with her hand.But she removed it almost immediately.
"The doctor is confident there is no great danger," she went on.
"Danger, of course, but not the greatest.He is still unconscious and will be for some time, but, if he is kept perfectly quiet and not permitted to worry in the least, he will soon be himself again.""Thank God for that!" I exclaimed, fervently."And your mother--Mrs.Colton--how, is she?"
Her tone changed slightly.I inferred that Mrs.Colton's condition was more trying than serious.
"Mother is--well, in her nervous state any shock is disturbing.
She is bearing the anxiety as well as we should expect."I judged that not much was expected.
"It was not on account of Father's illness that I sent for you, Mr.
Paine," she went on."If he had not been ill I should not have needed you, of course.But there is something else.It could not have happened at a more unfortunate time and I am afraid you may not be able to give me the help I need.Oh, I hope you can! Idon't know what to do.I know it must be dreadfully important.
Father has been troubled about it for days.He has been saying that he must go to New York.But the doctor had warned us against his going and so we persuaded him to wait.And now...Sit down, please.I want to ask your advice."I took the chair she indicated.She drew another beside me and seated herself.
"Mr.Paine--" she began.Then, noticing my expression, she asked, "What is it?""Nothing," I answered, "nothing except-- Isn't that the telegraph instrument I hear? Isn't someone calling you?""Yes, yes, it is Mr.Davis, Father's confidential man, his broker, in New York.He is trying to get us, I am sure.He telephoned an hour ago.I got a part of his message and then the connection was broken off.Central says there is something the matter with the wire, a big storm in Connecticut somewhere.It may take a whole day to repair it.And it is SO important! It may mean--I don't know WHAT it may mean! Oh, Mr.Paine, DO you know anything about stocks?"I looked at her blankly.
"Stocks?" I repeated.
"Yes, yes," a trifle impatiently."Stocks--the stock market--railroad shares--how they are bought and sold--do you know anything about them?"I was more puzzled than ever, but I answered as best I could.
