“That's well,” Mr. Williams said, settling into a chair with his paper. “I was a little apprehensive, but I suppose I was mistaken. I walked home, and just now, as I passed Mrs. Bassett's, I saw Doctor Venny's car in front, and that barber from the corner shop on Second Street was going in the door. I couldn't think what a widow would need a barber and a doctor for—especially at the same time. I couldn't think what Georgie'd need such a combination for either, and then I got afraid that maybe—”
Mrs. Williams laughed. “Oh, no; it hasn't anything to do with his having been over here. I'm sure they were very nice to him.”
“Well, I'm glad of that.”
“Yes, indeed—” Mrs. Williams began, when Fanny appeared, summoning her to the telephone.
It is pathetically true that Mrs. Williams went to the telephone humming a little song. She was detained at the instrument not more than five minutes; then she made a plunging return into the library, a blanched and stricken woman. She made strange, sinister gestures at her husband.
He sprang up, miserably prophetic. “Mrs. Bassett?”
“Go to the telephone,” Mrs. Williams said hoarsely “She wants to talk to you, too. She CAN'T talk much—she's hysterical. She says they lured Georgie into the cellar and had him beaten by negroes! That's not all—”
Mr. Williams was already on his way.
“You find Sam!” he commanded, over his shoulder.
Mrs. Williams stepped into the front hall. “Sam!” she called, addressing the upper reaches of the stairway. “Sam!”