"Not you—no, Madame. Some man, please—some doctor. Is there one here?"
"Some of the servants ill?" asked Mrs. Reeves, kindly. "Doctor Remson, will you come?"
The pleasant-faced capable-looking woman paused only until Doctor Remson joined her, and the two went into the hall, the waiter following slowly.
In a moment I heard a shriek, a wild scream. Partly curiosity and partly a foreboding of harm to Vicky Van, made me rush forward.
Mrs. Reeves had screamed, and I ran the length of the hall to the dining room. There I saw Somers on the floor, and Remson bending over him.
"He's killed! He's stabbed!" cried Mrs. Reeves, clutching at my arm as I reached her. "Oh, what shall we do?"
She stood just in the dining-room doorway, which was at the end of the long hall, as in most city houses. The room was but dimly lighted, the table candles not yet burning.
"Keep the people back!" I shouted, as those in the living-room pressed out into the hall. "Steele, keep those girls back!"
There was an awful commotion. The men urged the women back, but curiosity and horror made them surge forward in irresistible force.
"Shut the door," whispered Remson. "This man is dead. It's an awful situation. Shut that door!"