He began in a monotonous tone. Occasionally he looked up to see if Philip Farmington was listening. The millionaire had turned away slightly, so his profile was no longer visible. His head was leaning back; his hand was resting on the desk, holding the cigar.
Cardona went on until he finished reading. He waited for Farmington to finish considering it. At last Cardona’s patience ended.
“Anything else?” he questioned.
Philip Farmington did not reply.
“Satisfactory?” questioned Cardona.
No reply.
SURPRISED, Cardona frowned. He arose and stepped toward the seated millionaire. He advanced only three paces. He stopped stock-still, too amazed to move farther forward. He could now see the face of Philip Farmington, and it was his view of that countenance that astounded him.
Philip Farmington was staring at the wall with glazed, wide-open eyes. Upon his face had come a grayish pallor that matched the thin wisp of cigar smoke which curled upward from the hand upon the desk.
The firm features of the millionaire had taken a ghastly appearance that Cardona had never before observed upon the face of any man.
Startled, the detective stood motionless. Then, while a strange sensation brought incredible realization, Cardona reached forward and grasped the shoulders of the seated man.