“It was in the hush following this remark that Delafield’s chair fell sideways to the floor with a crash, making us start to our feet and setting the glasses tinkling. The roar of mirth that burst out at this mishap ceased instantly, as we saw Delafield’s ghastly face, down which the blood was running from a deep gash in his forehead.
“Someone hurried forward, offering help, but Delafield pushed him aside, staggered to his feet, closed the door and leaned his back against it—his arms spread out as though to bar an exit.
“We stood around the table in silence, watching him. Two or three minutes must have passed before he spoke.
“‘Is—Mi—Miss Smith en—gaged?’
“The question was asked slowly in a low tone, as though the man was struggling to control voice and speech.
“We looked at one another and at the swaying figure before the door, but no one answered.
“‘Is—Miss Smith’s—father here?’
“No answer.
“‘Is Miss Smith’s brother here?’