“Mr. Starleigh!” he called out.
“Oh, Bob, is that you? Help me, in Heaven’s name!”
“I will.”
Guided by the voice, Bob rushed through the operating-room, and threw open the door of the dark closet.
A red light burned on a stand, and by it Bob saw his employer lying on the floor, one hand grasping a box of plates.
“Help me, Bob!”
“I will if I can, sir. Can’t you get up?”
“Yes, but I can’t walk. I tried to save all those new plates, and two of the boxes fell on my ankle.”
“Take my hand.”
The old photographer did so, and got up, although the movement caused him great pain.