But Harris Wayne also disliked motoring during a thunder storm. When he mentioned to the chairman of the program that he would like to get home, if possible, before the storm broke, a change in the order of speeches was immediately made to suit his convenience and a motor car placed at his disposal. Thus it happened that Harris Wayne was being driven rapidly in the direction of his home when the terrific thunder storm that had been brewing all day broke in its full intensity. Ever since leaving his home that evening after kissing Doris good night he had been haunted by a strange foreboding, a sense of impending disaster. There were moments when he seemed to hear a voice warning him to watch for something. What it was he must watch for he could not determine. No sooner had he arrived at the banquet and dismissed his chauffeur, telling the latter he would telephone him when to return, than he had again been conscious of the voice, or influence or whatever it was, this time urging him to go home--home--hurry home. It was this mysterious warning and not mere dislike of a thunder storm that had impelled him to make his request of the committee chairman. And now, as he rode on through the black night with the thunder crashing about him and the lightning blinding his eyes, even with the curtains of the car drawn, he could hear, it seemed, but one word: "Hurry--Hurry--Hurry!" Wayne felt as if he were again on the battlefield, struggling to save a wounded comrade's life. He clinched his fists and, for a moment, closed his eyes. "Oh, God," he groaned, "whatever it is, let me get there in time!" The car tore up the driveway like a mad thing and stopped at the great, porticoed entrance of the old, colonial house where several generations of Wayne's had lived. The servants, laughing and dancing to radio music heard it above their own din. "Mr. Wayne has come," said the butler, and vanished swiftly in the direction of the entrance hall to meet his master. "Thank the Lord, I don't have to go out again to-night!" exclaimed the chauffeur kissing his bride. "Oh, my heavens!" cried the nurse, disappearing like a flash up the rear stairway. The cook chuckled. "If Mr. Wayne gets to the nursery before she does, there'll be hell to pay." "Rufus will delay him in the hall. That'll give her time," answered the bride. Rufus was the butler. Then they heard the nurse shriek. It was a penetrating, hysterical shriek such as a woman utters when she comes face to face with a burglar or finds the house afire. It was not repeated. Just that one, wild, amazed outcry that echoed through every room in the house and into the grounds beyond.