Miss Corson came away from the window with a rush; her cheeks were danger-flags. "You seem to be absolutely determined to drive me to say something dreadful to you, Doris! I've been trying so hard to remember that you're my guest."
"Your friend, you mean!"
"You listen to me! I'm making my own declarations to myself about the men in this world—the ones I know. If I should say out loud what I think of them—or if I should say what I think of friends who meddle and maunder on about love—love—I'd be ashamed if I were overheard. Now not another word, Doris Stanton!" She stamped her foot and beat her hand hard on the table in a manner that smacked considerably of the Senator's violence when his emotions were stirred. "I'm ashamed of myself for acting like this. I hate such displays! But I mean to protect myself. And now keep quiet, if you please. I have something of real importance to attend to, even if you haven't."
She went to a niche in the wall and pulled out the private telephone instrument; the pressure of a button was required to put in a call. After the prolonged wait, Senator Corson's voice sounded, high-pitched, urgent. His appeal was broken short off.
Lana stared at Mrs. Stanton while making futile efforts to get a reply to frantic questions; fear paled the girl's face and widened her eyes.
"What has happened, Lana?"
"It's father! He asked for help! It's something—some danger—something dreadful." She clung to the telephone for several minutes, demanding, listening, hoping for further words—the completion of his orders to her.
Then, abandoning her efforts, she made haste to call the sheriff of the county, using the study extension of the regular telephone.
The customary rattle informed her that the line was in use, after she had called for the number, looking it up in the directory. When she finally did succeed in getting the ear of the sheriff she was informed in placatory orotund by that official that all her fears were groundless. "I have been talking with the State House just before you called me, Miss Corson. I am assured on the best of authority that everything is all right, there." He was plainly indulging what he accepted as the vagaries of hysteria—having been apprised by the matter-of-fact Mac Tavish that some nonsensical news might come through an excited female. "I think you must have misconstrued what your father said. My informant is known to me as reliable. Oh no, Miss Corson, I cannot give you his name. It's a rule of the sheriff's office that individuals who give information have their identities respected. If the Senator is at the State House you can undoubtedly reach him by 'phone in the Executive Chamber." He placidly bade her good night.
But Miss Corson was unable to communicate with the Executive Chamber.