"He asked for Mr. Armstrong, and seemed a good deal put out to learn he was gone," said the maid. "Then he asked for you. He says it's extremely important."
"Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes."
Dorothy turned to her mirror, wondering at this unheralded call from Pete Slosson.
Instantly there darted into her remembrance the thought of how Slosson had spoken that day at the Waldorf—his manner, rather than his words themselves. He had been so anxious to smooth over her mother's innocent remark, that he must have known more than he said.
"I wish now I'd made him say more," reflected Dorothy, giving her hair a final pat. "He seemed genuinely uneasy that day. There was always a lot of good in Pete, for all his reckless ways, and now he seems to have settled down—"
She smiled at the reflection which told of her beauty, and there was wonder in her smile, too. For Dorothy was one of those rare women who do not lose, but gain, by the added life within them, and never had the fine, clear lines of her face been so filled with a spiritual grace as now.
Pete Slosson was striding restlessly up and down the living room when she found him. At sight of her, he turned. There was no mistaking the light that sprang into his face as he warmly gripped her hands, and this look wakened a slight color in Dorothy's cheeks.
"Dot!" he exclaimed impulsively. "Tell me where I can reach Reese! I called up his office when I reached New York this morning, but couldn't get any information except that he was not there and wouldn't be there to-day. I came on here, sure of catching him—and now he's gone! I must get in touch with him immediately."
Her eyes widened on his.
"Why, Pete, you'll have to go to Wilmington! He's there, at the annual meeting of Consolidated. There's a big fight going on—"