doubt whatever of the nature of the disaster to Charles Hale.
Gregg took up the telephone. "Doctor Grantham's office?"
"Yes."
"Is the doctor there?"
"He is just coming in."
"Tell him the right address is Clearedge Street—4689." Gregg started to hang up the receiver, but could not. "And tell him for God's sake to get there quick!" Gregg cried in sudden bewilderment with himself, then he hung up and pushed the door to feel weight against it, and he knew that Marjorie had been just outside. She stepped back and let him out.
"How did you know that?" she said, trembling.
Gregg thought as quickly as he could. "The man your father had to see to-night lives there."
She suspected nothing of the truth, Gregg felt; only her terrible anxiety for her father, in order to be sure to get medical aid at once, was making her question.
"Your father mentioned his name to me. I looked it up just now; that was the address."
"Oh, I see. Then—then I can call him. I can find out what's happened; how father is. What's his name, Gregg? The number!"
Gregg stepped before her, blocking her away from the telephone booth till he had glanced in and made sure that he had closed the directory. "No, that wouldn't do any good," he denied her. "The doctor's on his way there now, Marjorie," he pleaded. "He came in when I was speaking."
"Why, Gregg! Mr. Mowbry; you're going to tell
