By Jove, I did hear him say that he’d bought a block of stock on margin!”
A gleam of triumph indescribable flashed into Tremaine’s eyes.
“That may explain it,” he said, with studied carelessness.
“Yes--but it doesn’t excuse it. If a man can’t keep his temper when he loses, he hasn’t any business to speculate. Hello, who’s that?”
Someone was pounding at the outer door. Delroy strode to it and threw back the bolt. It flew open and young Graham staggered rather than walked into the hall, hatless, coatless, soaked with rain, his eyes staring, his face rigid with horror.
“Good God, man; what is it?” cried Delroy.
He opened his mouth; but only a low rumbling came from his throat.
“Come!” cried Delroy sharply. “Be a man! What is it?”
By a mighty effort, Graham pulled himself together.
“Father’s killed!” he whispered hoarsely.
