Chapter 17
IT WAS ALMOST noon when Herkomer reached his office the next day. Eight hours of solid sleep, backed up by a wonderful constitution, made him much more fit than his fussy housekeeper was willing to believe. However, despite her dire prognostications and her reiteration of what the doctor had said when he was brought home, Herkomer, after several telephone calls, left the house.
He smiled his way through the reporters, to whom enough had been given last night to delight a sensation-hungry world this morning, but who clamoured for more. He promised to talk with them in a couple of hours, and made his way to his office.
It was a good-sized gathering that had assembled there. The Sinsabaughs, man and wife, Philip Waring, Conybear— whose mere presence had stopped the panic this mo
