THE HOLLADAY CASE
CHAPTER I
A Bolt from the Blue
The atmosphere of the office that morning was a shade less genial than usual. We had all of us fought our way downtown through such a storm of wind, snow, slush, and sleet as is to be found nowhere save in mid-March New York, and our tempers had suffered accordingly. I had found a cab unobtainable, and there was, of course, the inevitable jam on the Elevated, with the trains many minutes behind the schedule. I was some half-hour late, in consequence, and when I entered the inner office, I was surprised to find Mr. Graham, our senior, already at his desk. He nodded good-morning a little curtly.
"I wish you'd look over these papers in the Hurd case, Lester," he said, and pushed them toward me.
I took them and sat down; and just then the outer door slammed with a violence extremely unusual.
I had never seen Mr. Royce, our junior, so deeply shaken, so visibly distracted, as he was when he burst in upon us a moment later, a newspaper in his hand. Mr. Graham, startled by the noise of his entrance, wheeled around from his desk and stared at him in astonishment.
"Why, upon my word, John," he began, "you look all done up. What's the matter?"