"Yes."
The man stood silent for a moment, and the girl's eyes became intensely earnest.
"Will you come and tell him—what we have heard—to-night?" she begged. "Will you come and tell him—what you have told me? But it's not that I want you for most. There's trouble around. Desperate trouble for—for Monica." She clasped her hands in her anxiety. "Oh, come—come and help. Come and help us—her. Doctor Fraser says she cannot live unless—unless she is operated on by—by a surgeon from Winnipeg. But the railroad strike has made it impossible to get him—in time."
Frank started back and his arms dropped abruptly from about the girl's slim body.
"Monica?" he cried. "Monica dying?" Then, with a gasp. "Oh, God, and I helped to make that strike!"
CHAPTER XVI
THE DAWN OF HOPE
Alexander Hendrie started round at the sound of the servant's voice.
He was in the library. Night had fallen, and the room was in darkness. He had been staring blankly at one of the windows, across which the curtains had not yet been drawn. For hours his mind had been concentrated upon the one eternal problem which confronted him. He was beset with doubts, hopes, fears, each one of which he examined closely, dismissed or accepted, and pigeon-holed the latter in the back cells of memory for future use.