His heart was on fire within him. He stifled an oath on his ashen lips.
The next moment the sharp peal of a bell summoned an attendant to his presence.
“A carriage at once!” he said hoarsely, and within five minutes he sprang into it, saying to the driver:
“The office of the Sentinel!”
A few minutes more and he was in the office of the editor.
“I wish to see the reporter who wrote this article,” he said, pointing to the Groves-Ludington tragedy in the paper he still held crushed within his hand.
“He is out, but I will call him,” going to the telephone.
Within ten minutes the reporter responded, gazing in wonder at the pale, excited-looking visitor in the editorial office.
“What can I do for you?” he inquired blandly, wondering the while if the man had escaped from Weston.
Mr. Somerville, still on fire with excitement, answered almost imploringly: