The noisy groups had become silenced and wondering, an ominous whisper passed through the huge rooms, tongues were stilled and hushed, only to rise again in subdued conjecture and low talk. Obviously, something very untoward had happened somewhere.
To Macgowan and Williams, as they stood together, Pete Slosson came hurriedly pushing his way. From his face was stripped the mask of polite amiability; that face was dark with passion, anger and fright fought for possession of the eyes, the mouth was clenched and desperate.
"Macgowan, Armstrong wants you in Deming's library right away," he said in a low tone. "You too, Ried! There's the devil to pay. The wedding's postponed for an hour."
Slosson shoved on into the throng, seeking some one else. Macgowan went to the doorway with Williams. He laid his hand on the other's arm.
"My dear Ried," he said quietly, "you predicted that something would happen within six weeks or six days. Decidedly, you must overcome this habit of making inaccurate statements!"
"Eh?" Williams looked bewildered. "You—what d'you mean?"
"You should have said, within six minutes." Macgowan chuckled again, then halted. "Here! Where's the library? You're not going upstairs!"
"It's up there," answered the other curtly, leading the way.
A hum of suppressed voices followed and surrounded the two men as they mounted to the upper floor. At this moment, one of the upper hall doors opened, and the white-clad figure of Dorothy burst out into the hall with excited words.
"I must find father at once!" she was exclaiming. "A whole hour—why, it's terrible! I don't care what the reason is—oh, Mr. Macgowan! Where is Reese? Where's father?"