in. It was very early,
earlier than he usually came, perhaps; but I could not tell. He did
not notice me at first, and, remembering Drayton's hypothesis, I shrank
behind the tall desk, and instinctively kept out of sight for a few
uncertain minutes, wondering what I had better do. The clerk called
the janitor, and scolded a little about the fire, which he ordered
lighted in the grate. It was a cold morning. He said the room would
chill a corpse. He had the morning papers in his hand. He unfolded
the "Herald," and laid it down upon his own desk, as if about to read
it.

At that instant, the telegraph clicked, and he pushed the damp, fresh
paper away from him, and went immediately to the wires. The young man
listened to the message with an expression of great intentness, and
wrote rapidly. Moved by some unaccountable impulse, I softly rose and
glanced over his shoulder.

The dispatch was dated at midnight, and was addressed to Henry Brake.
It said:

"_Have you seen my husband, to-night?_" and it was signed, "_Helen
Thorne._"

Oh, poor Helen!...

Now, maniac with haste to get to her, it occurred to me that the moment
while the clerk was occupied in recording this message was as good a
time as I could ask for in which to escape unobserved, as I greatly
wished to do. As quietly as I could--and I succeeded in doing it very
quietly--I therefore moved to leave the broker's office. As I did so,
my eye caught the heading, in large capitals, of the morning news in
the open "Herald" which lay upon the desk behind the clerk. I stopped,
and stooped, and read. This is what I read:--

SHOCKING ACCIDENT.

TERRIBLE TRAGEDY.
RUNAWAY AT THE WEST END.

_The eminent and popular physician._
_Dr. Esmerald Thorne,_

KILLED INSTANTLY.

CHAPTER VII.

At this moment, the broker entered the office.

With the "Herald" in my hand, I made haste to meet him.

"Brake!" I cried, "Mr. Brake! Thank Heaven, you have come! I have
passed such a night--and look here! Have you seen this abominable
canard? This is what has come of my being locked into your"--

The broker regarded me with a strange look; so strange, that for very
amazement I stood still before it. He did not advance to meet me;
neither his hand nor his eyes gave me the human sign of welcome; he
looked over me, he looked through me, as a man does at one whose
acquaintance he has no desire to recognize.

I thought:--

"Drayton has cramme