“And that is not the thing to do in this house,” laughed Landon. “This is mighty good tea, though,—didn’t know anybody could brew it as well as Milly. Congratulations, Eve.”
“Thank you,” and Eve’s long lashes swept upward as she gave him a coquettish glance.
“Referring to that matter of which we were talking, Hardwick,” Gifford Bruce began, “I——”
Even as he spoke, the clock chimed four, and, as always, they paused to count the long, slow strokes.
Then Bruce began again: “I think, myself——”
A strange change passed over his face. His jaw fell, his eyes stared, and then, his teacup fell from his hand, and he slumped down in an awful—a terrifying heap!
Landon sprang to his assistance, Norma ran to him, while Tracy, with a quick glance at Vernie, flew to the child’s side.
“What is it?” he cried to her, “what’s the matter, Vernie?” He slipped an arm round her, just as, with a wild look and a ringing shriek, the girl’s head fell back and her eyes closed.
“Oh,” cried Eve, “what has happened?”
“I don’t know,” and Tracy’s voice shook. “Help me, Miss Carnforth—let us lay her on this sofa.”