“I am going to him,” said Nick.
A light was burning in the library of the residence on Madison Avenue when Nick rang the door bell.
Parks himself came to the door. He had sent his servants to bed.
“Mr. Parks,” said Nick, “I have something of great importance to say to you—so great that I would have roused you at this hour, but I see that you have not retired.”
“No; I am in no mood to sleep.”
These words were spoken while Parks led the way to the library.
“In the first place,” Nick said, when they were seated in that apartment, “let me ask what you have heard regarding your wife’s condition?”
“I have secured hourly reports,” Parks replied. “There has been no change.”
“You can hardly wish, believing what you do of her, that she should recover. Her fate might be worse than death.”
Parks pressed his hands to his forehead.