His voice, exhausted, like his body, was just able to do him this final service; then he sank, crumpled, into the chair by the table, his chin down hard upon his chest.
“I tell you, you're crazy!” Lamb said again. “I never in the world——” But he checked himself, staring in sudden perplexity at his accuser. “Look here!” he said. “What's the matter of you? Have you got another of those——?” He put his hand upon Adams's shoulder, which jerked feebly under the touch.
The old man went to the door and called to the foreman.
“Here!” he said. “Run and tell my chauffeur to bring my car over here. Tell him to drive right up over the sidewalk and across the lot. Tell him to hurry!”
So, it happened, the great J. A. Lamb a second time brought his former clerk home, stricken and almost inanimate.
CHAPTER XXIV
About five o'clock that afternoon, the old gentleman came back to Adams's house; and when Alice opened the door, he nodded, walked into the “living-room” without speaking; then stood frowning as if he hesitated to decide some perplexing question.
“Well, how is he now?” he asked, finally.
“The doctor was here again a little while ago; he thinks papa's coming through it. He's pretty sure he will.”