"What's the matter?" she asked sharply.
"Look! Look!" he said, pointing to the paper.
With her own swift, swimming motion she moved behind him, and looked down over his shoulder. She read staring headlines:
WEALTHY NEW YORK STOCKBROKER FOUND MURDERED
She was freshly annoyed by what seemed to be such ridiculous excitement. "What's that got to do with you?" she demanded.
"Read! Read!" he said hoarsely.
She impatiently read what was under the headlines:
"Collis Dongan of the old New York family, wealthy clubman and member of the Stock Exchange, was found dead in his apartment last night. Mr. Dongan, a widower without children resided at the exclusive Hotel Warrington. The body was found by his valet George Canfield who had been away on a vacation granted him by his master over the holiday. The revolver with which the deed was done was found lying near, and at first it was supposed to be a case of suicide. But Doctor Raymond Morsell the hotel physician who was quickly summoned by the frightened servant, instantly pronounced that the wound could not have been self-inflicted. The bullet had entered the base of the skull. The body was found lying in Mr. Dongan's living-room. It was fully clothed. There were no signs of any struggle. Every indication pointed to the fact that he had been shot down from behind without warning. Apparently he had been dead three days. His blood was matted and dried in the rug on which he lay."
Pen looked up in disgust. "What do you want me to read this horrible stuff for?" she asked. "It's like all the other cases."
"Read on!" said her father.