One swift glance she cast at the fur-clad form, prostrate.
The chafing-dish fell from her hand, and the omelette rolled, a
grotesque mass, upon the carpet. She swayed, dizzily, raising one hand
to her brow, but had recovered herself even as Leroux sprang forward to
support her.
"All right, Leroux!" cried Cumberly; "I will take her upstairs again.
Wait for me, Exel."
Exel nodded, lighted his cigar, and sat down in a chair, remote from the
writing-table.
"Mira--my wife!" muttered Leroux, standing, looking after Dr. Cumberly
and his daughter as they crossed the lobby. "She will report to--my
wife."...
In the outer doorway, Helen Cumberly looked back over her shoulder,
and her glance met that of Leroux. Hers was a healing glance and a
strengthening glance; it braced him up as nothing else could have done.
He turned to Exel.
"For Heaven's sake, Exel!" he said, evenly, "give me your advice--give
me your help; I am going to 'phone for the police."
Exel looked up with an odd expression.
"I am entirely at your service, Leroux," he said. "I can quite
understand how this ghastly affair has shaken you up."
"It was so sudden," said the other, plaintively. "It is incredible
that so much emotion can be crowded into so short a period of a man's
life.
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