"DOUNAY DIAMONDS STOLEN" was its screaming message.
The minister was quickly gutting the column of its meaning, when a step upon the graveled walk behind startled him into turning suddenly toward the street, where between the polished red trunks of the palms and under their spreading leaves which met overhead, he saw framed the figure of Rollie Burbeck, halting uncertainly, with pale, excited face. This expression, indeed, was a mere exaggeration of the very look Doctor Hampstead had last seen upon it; but he did not immediately connect the two.
"Your mother!" exclaimed the clergyman apprehensively, for that precious life, always hanging by a thread which any sudden shock might snap, was a constant source of anxiety to those who loved the Angel of the Chair. "Something has happened to her?"
"No! To me!" groaned the young man hoarsely, hurrying forward as the minister stepped down to meet him.
"Something awful! Can I see you absolutely alone?"
"Why, certainly, Rollie," replied the minister with ready sympathy. "Come this way."
Hastily the minister led his caller around the side of the wide, low-lying cottage to the outside entrance of his study.
"Is that door locked?" asked Rollie, as, once inside the room, he darted a frightened glance at the doorway connecting with the rest of the house.
Although knowing himself to be safe from interruption, the minister tactfully walked over and turned the key. He then locked the outer door as well, lowered the long shade at the wide side window, and snapped on the electric light.
"No eye and no ear can see or hear us now, save one," he said with sympathetic gravity. "Sit down."