“We have all eternity before us to solve the problem if--” The emphasis on the conditional particle indicated so clearly his meaning that there was no need to say it. “You need not go on a wild-goose chase, and we hoping and expecting and uncertain if--Hello! Dr. Pierson's office? This is Mr. Johnson, of W. H. Garrettson & Company. Is the doctor there? Out? Where did he go? Speak out--I am Mr. Garrettson's partner. Hotel Cressline, Suite D? Thank you.” Johnson turned and said: “Dr. Pierson was summoned by telephone to the Cressline, Suite D, to attend Mr. Garrettson. Hurry call! I'll get the hotel and ask--” “And meantime,” said Jenkins, excitedly, “he might be dying or dead; and we--” “Yes! Go! I'll arrange to have a telephone-line kept for our exclusive use. Hurry!” Jenkins rushed madly from the office and Johnson took up the telephone once more. “Give me the Hotel Cressline!” And presently, “Hello! Cressline? This is W. H. Garrettson & Company. Yes--Mr. Johnson, Mr. Garrettson's partner. Is Mr. Gar--... Yes--yes--I want to talk to him.... Why not? Is it our Mr. Garrettson... Here! Hold your horses! You will tell me!--or, by Heaven, I'll... Helloh-Hello! Damn 'em!” “What did they say, Walter?” asked Mr. Lane, partner and brother-in-law of Garrettson. “He said I could go to hell!” growled Johnson, his face brick-red from anger; people did not talk that way to the partners of the great Garrettson. “He said a Mr. Garrettson, accompanied by a heavily veiled lady, took Suite D this morning at nine-forty-five, and left orders not to be interrupted under any circumstances--no cards sent up, no telephone connection made, no messages of any kind delivered!” The two partners looked at each other gravely. In their eyes was something like a cross between a challenge and an entreaty, as though each expected the other to say he did not expect a terrible final chapter. In the veiled woman each feared what was worse than mere death--scandal! Of course, much would be suppressed, as had been done in the case of Winthrop Kyle or of Burton Willett, to whom death had come suddenly and under dubious circumstances. “William is not that kind!” said Lane, loyally. “He has never--” “I know that, of course. I don't believe it. I don't! I don't!” repeated Walter Johnson, vehemently. “Neither do I,” agreed Lane. “But--” He looked furtively at Walter Johnson. Johnson nodded, and said, “Yes, that's the devil of it!” He lost himself in thoughts of how to suppress the scandal; for these men loved Garrettson, admired his abilities, gloried in his might, and reverenced his greatness. They would rather see the firm lose millions than have posthumous mud flung upon the historic figure of W. H. Garrettson.