She thought a moment, then walked out of the room. Gordon heard her at the telephone in the hall and smiled. A little firmness was all that was required.
“Is that the Morning Telegram? This is Miss Diana Ford speaking. Will you send a reporter to 61 Cheynel Gardens——”
In two seconds he was in the hall and had covered the transmitter with a frantic hand.
“What are you going to do?” he asked frenziedly.
She shrugged a shoulder.
“Life without you is insupportable, Gordon,” she said brokenly. “You are the only relation I have in the world, and if you turn me out what is there left but the river?”
“You’re mad,” he wailed.
“The coroner will take that charitable view, I hope—don’t interrupt me, Gordon. They want to speak to me.”
By sheer force he lifted her away from the instrument and took the receiver in his own hand.
“Don’t bother to send anybody ... she is quite well ... alive. I mean, there’s no suicide ...”