A push on one of the
electric buttons summoned a clerk, with whose aid Mr. French was
lifted to a leather-covered couch that stood against the wall. Almost
at once the effect of the stimulant was apparent, and he opened his
eyes.
"I suspect," he said, with a feeble attempt at a smile, "that I must
have fainted--like a woman--perfectly ridiculous."
"Perfectly natural," replied his partner. "You have scarcely slept for
two weeks--between the business and Phil--and you've reached the end
of your string. But it's all over now, except the shouting, and you
can sleep a week if you like. You'd better go right up home. I'll send
for a cab, and call Dr. Moffatt, and ask him to be at the hotel by the
time you reach it. I'll take care of things here to-day, and after a
good sleep you'll find yourself all right again."
"Very well, Kirby," replied Mr. French, "I feel as weak as water, but
I'm all here. It might have been much worse. You'll call up Mrs.
Jerviss, of course, and let her know about the sale?"
When Mr. French, escorted to the cab by his partner, and accompanied
by a clerk, had left for home, Kirby rang up the doctor, and requested
him to look after Mr. French immediately. He then called for another
number, and after the usual delay, first because the exchange girl was
busy, and then because the line was busy, found himself in
communication with the lady for whom he had asked.
"It's all right, Mrs. Jerviss," he announced without preliminaries.
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