'You had warning of it?'
Hugh pulled him a few yards away, and whispered——
'Bennet Frothingham shot himself last night.'
Again Harvey experienced that disagreeable heart-shock, with the alternation of hot and cold.
'Where? At home?'
'At the office of Stock and Share. Come farther away. It'll be in the evening papers directly, but I don't want those blackguards to hear me. I got up late this morning, and as I was having breakfast, Sibyl rushed in. She brought the news; had it from some friend of her mother's, a man connected somehow with Stock and Share. I thought they would shut up shop, and came to try and save Sibyl's balance—a couple of hundred, that's all—but they've swallowed it with the rest.'
'With the rest?'
Hugh laughed mockingly.
'Of hers. Devilish bad luck Sibyl has. It was just a toss-up that a good deal of my own wasn't in, one way or another.'
'Do you know any more about Frothingham?'