Brisbane, up-borne by Lawson and a tall young stranger, first appeared, followed by a dozen men, who walked two and two with bared heads and serious faces, as if following a hearse. The stricken man's face was flushed and knobby, and his eyelids drooped laxly like those of a drunkard. He saw nothing, and his breathing was labored.
"Father, what has happened?" called Elsie. "Tell me—quick!"
"A touch of vertigo," answered Lawson, soothingly. "The doctor says nothing serious."
"Are you the doctor?" she turned to the young man.
"Yes. Don't be alarmed. The Senator has over-taxed himself a little, that is all, and needs rest. Show me his bed, and we will make him comfortable."
Elsie led the way to the bedroom, while Curtis stood helplessly facing the crowd in the hall. Lawson relieved the situation by coming out a few moments later to say:
"Gentlemen, the doctor thanks you, and requests you to leave the Senator to rest as quietly as possible."
After this dismissal had dispersed the on-lookers, Lawson turned to Curtis. "The old man's work as a speaker is done. Rather tragic business, don't you think? He was assailing you with the utmost bitterness. His big, right fist was in the air like a hammer when he fell; but it was his last effort."
Curtis seized his hand and said: "I envy you your chance to go with her and serve her." His voice changed. "The mob! Did you hear Yarpe and his men pass?"
"No; when?"