Page was folding this letter into its envelope, when a telegraph boy entered the office.
"Want an answer?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
So while his clerk signed, the lawyer tore open the message. He started as he read it, and a slow color rose over his face.
Taking a blank he scribbled an address, then added:—
Will be with you to-morrow evening.
GORHAM PAGE.
Making hasty preparations at the office and at home, he barely succeeded in catching the limited train for Chicago. When he was seated in his section, he drew forth from his pocket the telegram that had startled him, and read it again.
Mr. Van Tassel died suddenly at nine last night. Can you come to us?
MILDRED BRYANT.