Several messengers were hurried from the house and it was understood that they carried dispatches to the absent members of the Cabinet and the kin of the President.
Additional lights burned. The household was astir. It was manifest that the wounded President faced a grave and menacing crisis.
Alarm could be read in the faces of those to whose nursing and care he was committed.
Mrs. Newell, one of the trained nurses suddenly called, arrived at 3:15. She sprang from an electric carriage and ran down the sidewalk to the house.
The scene about the house was dramatic. The attendants could be seen hurrying about behind the unshaded and brightly lighted windows, and messengers came and went hastily through the guarded door.
Outside half a hundred newspaper correspondents were assembled awaiting news.
Meanwhile the nation—the world—stood watching for the final word. Buffalo, where the President was assassinated, stood agape with horror and rage.
It was past midday when he had entered upon his final struggle. The thousands gathered at the Pan-American Exposition, the nation and the outside world were not prepared even then for a realization that the worst was at hand.
A furious rainstorm was sweeping the city when the first ominous announcement came from the Milburn house:
“President McKinley is dying. He can live but a few moments.”