He seemed unable to wait for his wife’s answer to his questions.
“Why, no, my dear,” she replied. “You know he’s not been very well for some days. He’s worse—that’s all. It was nothing but a cold at first, but it’s turned into pneumonia.”
“Pneumonia? Dear me! At his age, people rarely live through it—however, he’s very strong, of course. Difference!” he exclaimed, softly. “Yes—a great difference. It—it will make a great gap in the family, Emma. We’re all so fond of him, and I’m deeply attached to him, for my part. As for my poor father, he will be quite overcome. I hope he has not been told yet.”
“No—I thought I’d wait and see you first.”
“Quite right, my dear—quite right—very wise. In the meantime, I think we should be going. Yes—it’s just as well that you didn’t take off your hat.”
He rose as he spoke, and touched one of the row of electric buttons on his desk. A man in the livery of the Company appeared at the door, just as Alexander was taking up his overcoat.
“I’m going up town a little earlier than usual, Donald,” he said. “Inform Mr. Arbuckle. If anything unusual should occur, send to Mr. Harrison Beman.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s all, Donald.”
The man faced about and left the office, having stood still for several seconds, staring at Alexander. Donald had been twenty years in the Company’s service, and did not remember that Mr. Lauderdale had ever left the office before hours in all the ten years since he had been chief, nor in the preceding ten during which he had occupied more or less subordinate positions.