“Go up—no, telephone,—somebody might come in, and want you.”
“Hello,” Richard Bates responded to Moore’s telephone call.
“Mr. Bates?”
“Yes.”
“Will you come downstairs, sir, right away? There’s been a—an accident. Mr. Binney,—that is, Sir Binney, you know,—he’s—he’s——”
“Well, he’s what?”
“He’s—oh, come down, sir, please!”
Moore hung up his receiver, for his nerve suddenly deserted him when it came to telling the dreadful fact of the tragedy.
In a few moments the elevator bell sounded and Moore went up to bring Bates down.
“What is it?” Bates asked. “Is my uncle—er,—lit up?”