"Hello, Lane, are you there?" called a man's deep voice.
"Yes. What's wanted?" answered Lane.
The door opened wide, impelled by a powerful arm. Light from the hallway streamed in over the burly form of a man in a heavy coat. He stood in the doorway evidently trying to see.
"Sick in bed, hey?" he queried, with gruff kind voice.
"I guess I am. Who're you?"
"I'm Joshua Iden and I've come to pack you out of here," he said.
"No!" protested Lane, faintly.
"Your wife is downstairs in a taxi waiting," went on his strange visitor.
"My wife!" whispered Lane.
"Yes. Mel Iden, my daughter. You've forgotten maybe, but she hasn't. She learned to-day from Doctor Bronson how ill you were. And so she's come to take you home."