“Mrs. Osborne, I have wonderful news!” he exclaimed: “Fair has been working at the factory, disguised as a Mrs. Karrick. Will you come with me to persuade her to come home to Mrs. Howard?”
“How did you get your information?” she inquired, pretending an excitement equal to his own.
“I paid a thousand dollars for it to a private detective, who claims to have found it out last night. He was in Gonzaga’s employ, but played traitor to him and came first to me with his information,” replied Bayard Lorraine; and Sadie answered:
“He has played traitor to you both, for the prince passed this corner a moment ago in a motor car, on his way to the factory.”
“And I am dallying here!” exclaimed the young author, in a voice of horror.
He rushed wildly toward the factory, and Mrs. Jones exclaimed excitedly:
“Let us follow him! There will be a scene that I would not miss for the world.”
They started on a run, but in a minute their footsteps were arrested by an awful, rumbling sound. The ground shook horribly beneath their feet; there was a deafening roar, an awful crash, clouds of black dust rose into the air, and an awful conviction was forced upon their hearts: The factory had fallen in.
“My husband! Oh, my husband!” shrieked the stricken wife, and her limbs gave way beneath her. She fell to the pavement like a stone.
“Help, help!” cried Mrs. Jones wildly, and some one came to her assistance—reluctantly, though, for every one wished to rush to the scene of the terrible accident. Sadie was carried into a store, and Mrs. Jones hurriedly explained that the lady’s husband was a clerk in the factory that had just caved in.