Dolores was still in the lead when the party reached the office, but she paused in the vestibule for her uncle to open the door. When he entered, she stepped in after him, followed by Genevieve and Mrs. Gantry. Darting his glances about the office in keen search, Mr. Leslie crossed the room to stare concernedly at the litter of torn maps and papers on the floor in front of the desk. He hurried to the inner door and rapped vigorously. There was no immediate response. He rapped again.
The door opened a few inches, and Ashton's English valet peered in at the visitors with a timid, startled look.
"Well?" demanded Mr. Leslie. "What d' you mean, sir, gawking that way? What's the matter here?—all these papers scattered about—everybody out on the bridge. Who are you, anyway?"
"M-Mr. Ashton's m-man, sir!" stuttered the valet.
"His man? Where is he?—out on the bridge?"
"N-no, sir; in his rooms, sir."
"Tell him to come here at once!"
"Y-yes, sir, very good, sir. But I fear he'll be afraid to come out, sir. Mr. Blake—he ordered 'im to stay in, sir."
"Blake ordered him! Why? Speak out, man! Why?"
"He—he said the bridge—that it was about to fall, sir."