"Yes?" answered the broker's voice from inside.
"Can you spare a moment to come out here?"
"I'll be there presently."
"No—now," she insisted. "You must come now."
"All right, I'm coming."
She waited for him until he appeared.
CHAPTER VIII.
There were few things that Brockton enjoyed more than a game of bridge. So long as the cards went his way, he was dead to the world. Having routed his opponents and carried everything before him for the last half hour, he was feeling in particularly good humor, and it was only with a mock grimace that he protested at being disturbed.
"Say, Laura, it's a shame to lure me away from that mad speculation in there. I thought I might make my fare back to New York, if I played until next summer." Dropping his jesting tone, he inquired interrogatively: "What's up?"