her back, but she broke away from him, staggered a few steps, and fell
before either of the men could save her.




CHAPTER IX

MOTHERLESS

Sangster was writing letters in his rooms in the unfashionable part of
Bloomsbury when Jimmy's urgent message reached him. It was brought by
one of the hotel servants, who waited at the door, yawning and
indifferent, while Sangster read the hastily scrawled lines:


For God's sake come at once. Mrs. Wyatt died suddenly this afternoon,
and there is no one to see to anything but me.


Dead! Sangster could not believe it. He had admired Mrs. Wyatt
tremendously that night when they all went to the theatre together; she
had seemed so full of life, so young to have a grown-up daughter like
Christine. Oh, surely there must be some mistake.

"I'll come at once," he said. He crushed Jimmy's note into his pocket
and went back for his hat. He called a taxi, and took the man from the
hotel back with him; he asked him a few questions, but the man was
uncommunicative, and apparently not very interested. Yes, the lady was
dead right enough, so he had been told, he admitted. The