“Is he dead?” Wentworth asked himself, with sudden hope, for the demise of Warren Lane would remove all danger.
He bent forward, to see if the sick man yet breathed.
“He’s only fainted,” he said to himself in disappointment.
Then a cunning scheme flashed upon him.
“Perhaps I can find the papers while he is unconscious,” he thought.
He stepped hastily to the bureau, and opened the drawers one after the other, peering here and there in the hope of seeing the important documents.
It was while he was thus occupied that Gerald opened the door.
“What are you doing, Mr. Wentworth?” he asked in a clear, incisive voice.
Bradley Wentworth turned, and his face betrayed marks of confusion.