"What has happened?" cried Cynthia. The frantic Hillman had already hung
up. She threw on her clothes anyhow and got a cab at the door. In five
minutes she was at the door of the Madison Avenue apartment. Short as
them off by saying to herself: Hillman is a fool! He exaggerates the
trouble.
There was a different boy on the elevator. This was Harry, whom Cynthia
liked. "What has happened?" she asked him breathlessly.
He is afraid to tell me! she thought; it is the worst! Hillman opened
the door of the apartment. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands shaking.
At the sight of her his eyes filled with weak tears. "O, Miss . . .!"
"Your father . . ." He was unable to go on. Cynthia turned to run to her
father's bedroom. "Not there. He's in the studio." When she turned in
.. is he? . . am I too late?"
"No! It can't be so!"
"Yes, Miss. Many hours ago."
MBT Tembeaia covered her face with her hands. She did not weep. "Send for Mr.
Mappin," she whispered.
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