A ring at the telephone caused Kent to move hastily to the instrument; when he hung up the receiver Helen was adjusting her veil before a mirror over the mantel.
“Colonel McIntyre is in the next room,” he said, keeping his voice lowered.
“My father!” Helen's eyes were hard and dry. “Does he know that I am here?”
“I don't know; Sylvester simply said he had called to see me and is waiting in the outer office.” Observing her indecision, Kent opened the door leading directly into the corridor. “You can leave this way without encountering Colonel McIntyre.”
Helen hurried through the door and paused in the corridor to whisper feverishly in Kent's ear, “Promise me you will remain faithful to Barbara whatever develops.”
“I will!” Kent's pledge rang out clearly, and Helen with a lighter heart turned to walk away when a telegraph boy appeared around the corner of the corridor and thrust a yellow envelope at Kent, who stood half inside his office watching Helen.
“Sign here,” the boy said, indicating the line on the receipt slip, and getting it back, departed.
Motioning to Helen to wait, Kent tore open the telegram. It was from Cleveland and dated the night before. The message ran: Called to Cleveland. Address City Club. Rochester.
Without comment Kent held out the telegram so that Helen could read it.
“What!” she exclaimed. “Philip in Cleveland last night. I—I—don't understand.” And looking at her Kent was astounded at the flash of terror which shone for an instant in her eyes. Before he had time to question her she bolted around the corridor.