d him. He too believes that I was shut in here to
sleep it off. The story will get out in two hours. I am doomed in
this town henceforth for a drunken doctor. I'd better have been killed
instantly, as this infernal paper says."

But I said,--

"Mr. Brake? You don't recognize me, I think. It is I, Dr. Thorne. I
couldn't get here before two. I went to your house last evening. I
got the impression you were here, so I came after you. I was locked in
here by your confounded watchman. They have this minute let me free.
I am in a great hurry to get home. Nice job this is going to be! Have
you seen _that_?"

I put my shaking finger upon the "Herald's" fiery capitals, and held
the column folded towards him.

"Jason," he said, after an instant's pause, "pick up the 'Herald,' will
you? A gust of wind has blown it from the table. There must be a
draught. Please shut the door."

To say that I know of no earthly language which can express the
sensation that crawled over me as the broker uttered these words is to
say little or nothing about it. I use the expression "crawled" with
some faint effort to define the slowness and the repulsiveness with
which the suspicion of that to which I dared not and did not give a
name, made itself manifest to my mind.

"Excuse me, Brake," I said with some agitation, "you did not hear what
I said. I was locked in. I am in a hurry to get home. Ask Drayton.
Drayton let me in. I must get home at once. I shall sue the 'Herald'
for that outrageous piece of work-- What do you suppose my wife--
Good God! She must have read it by this time! Let me by, Brake!"

"Jason," said the broker, "this is a terrible thing! I feel quite
broken up about it."

"Brake!" I cried, "Henry Brake! Let me pass you! Let me home to my
wife! You're in my way--don't you see? You're standing directly
between me and the door. Let me pass!"

"There's a private dispatch come," said the clerk Badly. "It is for
you, sir. It is from Mrs. Thorne herself."

"Brake!" I pleaded, "Brake, Brake!--Jason!--Mr. Brake! Don't you hear
me?"

"Give me the message, Jason," said Brake, holding out his hand; he
seated himself, as he did so, at the office table, where I had sat the
night out; he looked troubled and pale; he handled the message
reluctantly, as people do in the certainty of bad news.

"In the name of mercy, Henry Brake!" I cried, "what is the meaning of
this? Don't you hear a word I say? Do