"Quick! Quick!" she commanded. The red in her cheeks was deeper than it had been for weary weeks; her eyes shot fires of eagerness; her delicate fingers clutched the old gentleman's arm in a grasp so earnest that he winced from the pain of it.
"Eh, what?" he demanded, confused by the violence of her onslaught.
"Oh, do hurry, Uncle Jim!" Cicily cried. "The telephone—Johnson!"
"Good heavens, yes!" Delancy exclaimed, instantly aroused to the exigencies of the situation, while Hamilton stared blankly at the two conspirators. "I should say so! I've got to get hold of Johnson."
"He's on the wire by this time, I'm sure," Cicily announced. "While you were getting rid of those men, I sent Watson to call him up."
"Bully, Cicily!" Hamilton shouted, in irrepressible enthusiasm. For the first time, he had spoken honest praise of his wife's business ability, and the soul of the woman was filled with a glorious triumph.
Delancy was already on his way toward the telephone in the hall. But he turned to speak his mind:
"Why on earth don't your Aunt Emma have ideas like that," he questioned, resentfully; "practical ideas?"
"Perhaps she has," Cicily replied, accusingly. "But you would never listen." There was no answer beyond an unintelligible grunt from the old gentleman.