Part 21 (2/2)

”Congratulate him,” said Thorpe, but there was not much ring of earnestness in his tone.

Blair looked at him moodily, and Knight rose to go.

”You chaps are out of sorts, and I'll not see you again till the prize business is settled. Then I hope you'll be your own sweet sunny selves once more. Good night.”

He went off, and the other two began a desultory conversation. It lagged, however, and soon they separated for the night.

n.o.body in the Leonardo Studio apartments was an early riser. For that reason it was nearly eleven o'clock when Thorpe, his face very white, telephoned downstairs and asked the doorman to come up at once.

When Hastings appeared he found Thorpe sitting on the edge of a chair in the studio in a state of agitation.

”Blair----” Thorpe said, speaking with difficulty. ”Mr. Blair,--you know,--he's--he's very ill----”

”Ill, sir? Where is he?”

”In bed--in his room--go in, Hastings.”

The man went in, and it needed only a glance to tell him that Blair's illness, whatever it had been, was fatal.

”He's dead,” Hastings said, in an awe-stricken voice. ”He's surely dead.”

”Well, do something,” Thorpe said; ”what's the thing to do? Get a doctor?”

”A doctor couldn't help him, but yes, we ought to send for one. Who, sir?”

”I don't know. I've never had a doctor. This unnerves me, Hastings. I wish you'd do what's necessary.”

”Ain't you a friend of his, sir? Can't you show a little heart?”

Hastings had never liked Thorpe, but had always been an admirer of Gilbert Blair. There was no special reason for this, unless that Blair was of a kindlier nature, and rarely found fault with Hastings, while Thorpe was sometimes irascible and even unreasonable.

Moreover, if Thorpe was nervously upset, Hastings was, too, and neither man knew exactly what to do.

”Well, you must get a doctor,” Thorpe went on, a little peevishly.

”You're responsible in cases of emergency----”

”Me responsible, sir? What do you mean, Mr. Thorpe?”

”Nothing to make you look like that. But you're in a position of responsibility, and it's up to you to do something. Now, do it.”

”Yes, sir.” The tone of authority brought Hastings to his senses. He was responsible in a case like this, and he went to the telephone. He called the superintendent, who did not live in the building, and asked him to come at once, and to bring a doctor. Then, his work done, he left the room, and Thorpe was alone with his dead comrade.

But McClellan Thorpe made no move. He sat still on the edge of the chair, his face turned away from Blair's bedroom and toward the outer door.

At last Somers, the superintendent, arrived, and with him was Doctor Frost.

<script>