Virginia, greatly alarmed, exclaimed anxiously:
"Mother, dear, what's the matter? Speak to me."
Still no answer. The girls, now thoroughly frightened, ran for restoratives. Virginia poured out some brandy. Even Jimmie was frightened out of his usual levity and self-possession. Quickly taking her hand, which hung over the chair limp and lifeless, he put his finger on her pulse.
"Please telephone for the doctor, Jim!" cried Virginia, distracted, almost in tears.
The young man looked at both girls, his face serious and white. For once he controlled the situation. Soberly he said:
"It's too late."
Chapter IV
In a luxuriously furnished suite on an upper floor of one of New York's biggest and most expensive hotels two men sat carelessly scanning the morning newspapers before a table still covered with breakfast dishes. It was nearly ten o'clock, long past the hour when most people begin the day's work, and there was nothing, either in the men's dress or manner, to suggest that they belonged to the effete and useless idle class. On the contrary, in appearance they were typical business men—energy, prosperity, masterfulness, showing in their every word and gesture, in every line of their clean-cut, strong-featured faces. On this particular morning they were not looking their best, and the reason, as well as the explanation of their late rising might possibly be found in the disorder which a cursory glance around the room revealed. Dress coats, white ties, patent leather pumps and other paraphernalia of evening wear were scattered here and there, just as each article had been thrown down when they had returned home the night before, while on a side table were a couple of champagne bottles—empty.