"Oh, why doesn't he come!" she cried, an agony of despair in her voice, and began to pace the room in nervous agitation.
At that moment a man noiselessly entered the room. She did not hear him until, suddenly looking round, she saw Stevens, the butler, advancing respectfully toward her. For an instant it startled her; disappointment and embarrassment struggled within her; finally she asked somewhat fretfully:—
"What are you doing here, Stevens—I did not ring—I——"
Stevens held the silver salver before her, on which were several letters. Taking them apathetically from him, she sank back limp among the cushions, her nerves on edge as she proceeded to scan each in turn. There were nine in all—the last of which she quickly tore open as the sole missive fraught with possibility. But she was doomed to disappointment; and handing them back to him, she told him to put them on the desk.
The man complied, and then stood quietly at attention.
"And, Stevens," she added falteringly, "send Foster to me at once."
Stevens turned on the instant and found Foster in a passage-way, shuddering.
"What's the matter with you?" he whispered, at the same time placing his arm about her.
"What are you doing?" exclaimed Foster with indignation, but made no attempt to release herself from his embrace. "Don't you hear the newsboys? What are they saying?" she went on, nestling closer to him. "Listen!"
They did not have long to wait, for just then the hoarse, raucous voices of the newsboys calling early specials reached their ears; but such words as were at first distinguishable seemed of no importance to them. Then like a bolt from the blue rang out the words: