up!"

"Roxbury?" came in shrill tones from within. "He--Isn't he upstairs?
Good heaven, Mr. Rodney, what has happened? What _has_ happened?"

"Upstairs? What the deuce is he doing upstairs?"'

"He's--he's sleeping! Do tell me what's the matter?"

"Isn't this Mr. Medcroft's room?"

"Ye-es--but he isn't in. He objects to the noise. Oh, has anything
happened to Roxbury?" She was standing just inside the door, and her
voice betrayed agitation.

"My dear Edith, don't get excited. I have a telegram from--"

She uttered a shriek.

"He's been assassinated! Oh, Roxbury!"

"What the dev--Are you crazy? It's a telegram from ----"

"Oh, heavens! I knew they'd kill him--I knew something dreadful would
happen if I left--" Here she stopped suddenly. He distinctly heard her
catch her breath. After a moment she went on warily: "Is it from a man
named Hobart?"

"No! It's from Odell-Carney. Hobart? I don't know anybody named Hobart."
(How was he to know that Hobart was the name that Medcroft had chosen