"It is nearly noon, Mr. Santoine, and you have eaten nothing."
The blind man did not answer. He recalled vaguely that, several hours before, breakfast had been brought for him and that he had impatiently waved it away. In his absorption he had felt no need then for food, and he felt none now.
"Will you leave me alone for a few moments?" he directed.
He listened till he heard the door close behind the nurse; then he seized the private 'phone beside his bed and called his broker. Instinctively, in his uncertainty, Santoine had turned to that barometer which reflects day by day, even from hour to hour, the most obscure events and the most secret knowledge.
"How is the market?" he inquired.
There was something approaching to a panic on the stock-exchange, it appeared. Some movement, arising from causes not yet clear, had dropped the bottom out of a score of important stocks. The broker was only able to relate that about an hour after the opening of the exchange, selling had developed in certain issues and prices were going down in complete lack of support.
"How is Pacific Midlands?" Santoine asked.
"It led the decline."
Santoine felt the blood in his temples. "M. and N. Smelters?" he asked.
"Down seven points."