IN SYDNEY’S OFFICE
“I’m awfully sorry, Syd,” began Rex, as soon as the three were left
alone and had stepped into the elevator. “I never felt so disgraced in
my life.”
“You did nothing wrong,” replied Syd, pressing his hand against his
forehead for an instant as if it pained him. “But what are you doing in
town?”
“I came to see you,” answered Rex, and then looked at Scott, who had
said that as it was so near train time he would wait and go to the
station with the Pells. “But you are ill,” he went on the next instant,
his eyes coming back to the other’s face. “What is the matter, Syd?”
“Oh, I’m all right,” responded the young lawyer. He forced a smile to
his lips, and turning to Scott asked when the Bowmans expected to start
on their trip.
“Monday,” was the reply. “It’s too bad Rex can’t come with us. I was
counting on him. We’d have no end of fun.”
“Oh, Syd,” suddenly broke in Rex, “did you know that old Mr. Tyler was
dead? Or did he die before you came home last night?”
A sort of spasm passed over Sydney’s face, but they were just stepping
out of the elevator, and neither of the boys noticed it.
“Yes; he died before I left,” he answered, as they entered his rooms,
which he shared with a fellow member of the bar who was now away. “But
I’ve got some last things to attend to before I leave. You fellows make
yourselves comfortable in there and I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
He pointed to the adjoining room, where Rex and Scott at once
established themselves in the window and looked down on the busy street
far below them.
“I didn’t know Tyler was dead,” began Scott. “I heard what Roy did for
him on the bridge, though. By George, that was plucky! But by the way,
what’s the matter with your brother Sydney? He looks terribly. Didn’t
you notice it?”
“Of course I did and spoke about it He’s working too hard, I guess. I
say, Scott, you won’t tell anybody about my adventure this afternoon?”
“Of course I shan’t; only father, to report how insulting that
policeman was.”
“No, let that go. I wouldn’t like even your father to hear it. I feel
humiliated enough that you should know about it. Say, Scott!” Rex
paused suddenly. The recollection of his recent experience stung him
whenever it came up in his mind. He felt that Scott must be constantly
thinking of it, too. He wanted to tell him something that would banish
it from his thoughts.
“Well, my boy, what is it?” rejoined Scott.
“If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret
till—till everybody knows it, as they will probably in a day or two?”
“Of course I will. It must be something mighty important from your
mysterious air, old fellow.”
“It is, awfully important.” Rex’s eyes were fixed on Scott’s trowsers.
He saw that they were a new pair, evidently purchased to be worn on the
trip. What a thing it was to have money so that you could get extra
things whenever you wanted them and not be obliged to wait till you
could afford it! And the Pells would even be richer than the Bowmans.
Rex paused so long while he was thinking over all this that Scott broke
in with, “Well, what is it? Don’t keep me on the rack so long.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you,” went on Rex; “but some people know it
in Marley already, and you are my best friend, you know. Old man Tyler
left his money to mother and it’s something like half a million!”
“Reginald Pell!” Scott brought out these words with strong emphasis,
then seized his friend’s hand and wrung it heartily.
“Don’t!” said Rex, seeing that Syd was coming toward them. “It seems
awful to be congratulated now when the old man isn’t buried yet, and—”
“What’s that you’re saying?” Sydney had hastened forward and laid his
hand on Rex’s shoulder.
Rex colored. Syd looked so very serious, and now, as he stood there in
the full glare of daylight, the signs of suffering on his face were
plainly apparent.
“Syd, you are ill?” exclaimed Rex, forgetting about what he had been
saying. “You ought to be at home at once.”
“Never mind about me, Reggie. Tell me what you were just telling
Scott.”
“I didn’t think it was any harm. A good many people in Marley know it
now. I was telling him about—about Mr. Tyler’s will.”
“What about it?” Sydney’s eyes were looking steadily, unsmilingly down
into his brother’s as he put the question.
Rex was really frightened now. He had never seen Sydney look just like
this before.
“I told him about leaving his money to us on account of what Roy had
done,” he faltered. “I didn’t—”
Sydney’s eyes closed; he started to reel backwards and would have
fallen had not Scott sprung forward and caught him.
“Help me ease him down in the chair, Rex,” he called out.
Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Reginald took hold of his brother’s
other arm and between them the two boys got him down gently into a
chair that stood near the window.
“He isn’t dead, is he?”
Rex’s voice was hardly more than a whisper as he put the awful
question. Sydney certainly looked almost like a corpse, with his pallid
face and his head hanging itself lifelessly over on one side.
It was a trying situation for the two boys. Neither of them had had the
slightest experience with cases of this sort. It was so late in the
afternoon that the offices around them were all empty.
“No, he is not dead, I’m sure of that,” Scott replied, who, as the
senior of Rex by some eleven months, felt that it was natural for the
other to seem to rely upon him. “We ought to have a doctor at once,
though.”
“But we can’t leave him that way while I go for one. Besides, I don’t
know where to go.”
“Neither do I. Our doctor is clear at the other end of town and besides
he’s down at Atlantic City by this time anyway.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it? Oh, what shall we do, Scott?”
“We might ring for an ambulance. That’s the quickest way.”
“Oh, we don’t want to have him taken to the hospital. Come, help me get
him out of that chair. It’s horrible to see his head hang over like
that.”
“But where can we put him? There’s no lounge about, is there?”
“No, but we might let him lie on the floor, on that rug yonder. See, we
can take this cushion out of this chair for a pillow.”
With much difficulty, for they felt that they must go about the work of
transfer with the greatest care, the unconscious man was removed and
placed in what both boys considered would be an easier position for
him. But when he was stretched out at their feet, the spectacle was
such an ominous one that Rex almost wished that they had left him where
he was.
“Don’t you think we ought to throw water in his face or fan him or
something?” he asked helplessly.
“I don’t know what we ought to do, Rex, except I think we ought to have
a doctor the first thing. I tell you! You stay here with him and I’ll
go down and find a drug store. They’ll know where I can get a doctor
there.”
“All right; be as quick as you can.”
Scott was off on the instant and Rex was left alone with the
unconscious Sydney. His mind was filled with a multitude of thoughts in
regard to the strange seizure. Was he, Reginald, responsible for it?
What if he had not come to Philadelphia, would it have happened?
He tried to console himself with the reflection that the thing was
bound to occur any way, and that it was providential that he and Scott
were present to give aid.
Then he remembered how the attack had come on at the very moment when
Sydney learned that he (Rex) had told of their inheritance from the
miser, and he felt more dismal than ever.
It was very quiet in that great office building at this time of the
day. The noise of the car bells and traffic that came in through the
open windows from the street far below only made the stillness within
more marked. The office boy had taken the mail and gone home just
before Rex and Scott arrived.
Rex glanced up at the clock. They would not be able to catch the
express now. How good Scott was to stay with him. He would pay him back
for it all when they came into their fortune.
But he seemed to be a long while gone. Rex left his position by Sydney
and went to the window. By leaning very far out he could just see over
the heavy stone still to the street below. But it was quite impossible
to recognize any one at that distance.
He wriggled back till his feet touched the floor again, and then
returned to take up his watch by Sydney once more. He wished that Roy
was with him. Though they were twins he felt that his brother possessed
twice the self reliance in emergencies that he did.
“I wonder if I ought to telegraph to mother,” was his next thought.
Then he heard the door of the elevator slide back, and the next instant
Scott Bowman appeared, accompanied by a short man with side whiskers
and spectacles.