Carson--isn't that likely to be pretty serious at his age?"

"Depends on what caused it, I should say," Carson answered cautiously.
"If it was any kind of shock--"

"Oh--it can't be that!" Richard Kendrick's voice showed his alarm at the
thought. "Grandfather's been such an active old chap--no superfluous
fat--he's not at all a high liver--takes his cold plunge just as he
always has. It can't be that! But I'm off to see. Good-bye, Carson. I'll
'phone you when I know the situation. Meanwhile--wish grandfather safely
out of it, will you?"

"Of course I will; I think a great deal of Mr. Kendrick. Good-bye--and
don't worry about things here." Carson wrung his employer's hand, then
went out with him to the curb, where the car stood, and saw him off. "He
really cares," he was thinking. "Nobody could fake that anxiety. He
doesn't want the old man to die--and he's his heir--to millions. Well,
I like him better than ever for it. I believe if I got typhoid he'd
personally carry me to the hospital or do any other thing that came into
his head. Well, now it's for me to find a competent salesman for this
May sale that's on with such a rush. It's going to be hard to manage
without Benson."

The long, low car had never made faster time to the city, and it was in
the early dusk that it came to a standstill before the porch of the Gray
home. Doors and windows were wide open, lights gleamed everywhere, but
the house was very quiet. The car had stolen up as silently as a car of
fine workmanship may in these days of motor perfection, but it had been
heard, and Mrs. Robert Gray came out to meet Richard before he could
ring.

"My dear Mr. Richard," she said, pressing his hand, her face very grave
and sweet, "you have come quickly. I am glad, for we are anxious. Your
grandfather has dropped into a strange, drowsy state, from which it
seems impossible to rouse him. But I hope you may be able to do so. He
has wanted you from the first moment."

"Tell me which way to go," cried Richard, under his breath. "Is he
upstairs?"

She kept her hold upon his hand, and he gripped it tight as she led him
up the stairs. It was as if he felt a mother's clasp for the first time
since his babyhood and could not let it go.

"In here," she indicated softly, and the young man went in, his head
bent, his lips set.

* * * * *

Two hours afterward he came out. She was waiting for him, though it was
midnight. Louis and Ste