Smoothing out the telegram, Kathleen, with the maid intently peering over her shoulder, read the words it contained besides the address, in puzzled silence: Trenton, hurry. Hartzmann. CHAPTER XXIII IN FULL CRY Senator Foster, buttoning his overcoat against the March wind, left Calumet Place and sought his yellow touring car standing at the curb of an intersecting street near by. He had dispensed with the services of his chauffeur for that night. Seating himself behind the steering wheel, he started the machine down Fourteenth Street, so deep in thought that he barely missed running over two belated pedestrians scurrying to the sidewalk, and entirely missed the signals of a street-crossing policeman, who contented himself with a string of curses as he recognized the yellow car and bullied the next automobile chauffeur as a slight vent to his feelings. As Foster sped by the War, State, and Navy Building he noted the lights burning in widely separated office rooms and smiled grimly to himself. Parking the car near the Whitney residence, he made his way to the front door. Miss Kiametia Grey answered his impatient ring at the bell. "A nice hour for you to keep your appointment, and for me to see attractive men," she grumbled, leading the way to the library. "Fortunately, I have a reputation for eccentricity--it saves me a great deal of annoyance, and covers--er--indiscretions." "You--the most discreet of women," protested Foster, seating himself on the sofa by her. "And I have come tonight to confide in you...." "Have you?" dryly. "I doubt it; but go ahead"--generous encouragement in her tone. "How is Whitney?" "Pulse stronger, but still unconscious. Minna, poor child, insists that he knows her, and will not permit herself to believe in what I fear is the inevitable." "Perhaps it is better so," compassionately. "What should we do without hope in this world? I should not be surprised if Kathleen's condition is graver than her father's." Meeting her surprised look, he tapped his forehead significantly. "Brain fever." "She is acting queerly," admitted the spinster. "Tonight she locked herself in her room, won't see even the nurse, and refuses food." "I fear the breaking point is near," conceded Foster. "I did not like Dr. McLane's manner when we met him on leaving Kathleen; he also is worried." He paused and asked abruptly, "Has Kathleen seen Charles Miller?" "Not today." "When was he last here?" "Let me see," calculating on her fingers. "He came with you on Wednesday when I was here--today is Saturday." "Did Kathleen see him on Wednesday?" "I don't think so." "Has he been here since?" "I can't say; possibly the servants can tell you." "Will you find out from them before I go?" Miss Kiametia nodded affirmatively, and he asked; "Has Kathleen spoken to you of seeing him since Spencer's death?" "No." "Has she ever confided to you whether she cares for him or not?"