"What was the balance? Why can't I remember?"
I read the figures from the memorandum Mr. Coleman had given me.
"Seven million three hundred and twenty thousand," he repeated. "Well, make out a check to yourself for that amount. Now help me up while I sign it. What are you waiting for? Give me that pen."
I was somewhat dashed by the responsibility that was being thrust upon me, but I could think of no better course. So we propped him to a sitting posture, and he signed his name somewhat unsteadily to the check.
"Now take it, Hampden," he said. "You won't see me go down, will you? Look out for my interests. They're yours, Hampden. Stand by me this time, and I'll stand by you always." His voice trailed off into indistinctness as we laid him back on the pillow, and after a struggle to speak, his face flushed a startling red, he mumbled a few incoherent sounds, and was lost to his surroundings.
Mercy Fillmore uttered a cry at this sudden change.
"Oh, I wish Doctor Roberts was back!"
"Here is Doctor Roberts," said the quiet professional voice, as the physician entered the room and stepped to his patient's side. "No more business to-night," he continued sharply. "I am afraid there will be no more for many days. I must ask you to retire, Mr. Hampden; the atmosphere is too exciting for Mr. Kendrick."
I denied myself the pleasure of interrupting Mr. Baldwin's conversation, as I went out, and hastened to the Coleman house.
Partridge and Nelson had already arrived, and I found them earnestly discussing the situation with Mr. Coleman. They greeted me with condescension, inquired civilly of the condition of Wharton Kendrick, and warmly expressed their indignation against the mob.