CHAPTER XV
C lementina sat in the vestibule and fanned herself with the telegram. It was from Marseilles and had been telegraphed on from London. It ran:
“Doctors say I am dying. Come at once here Hôtel Louvre. Matter of life and death. Am wiring Quixtus also. For Heaven’s sake both come.— Will Hammersley.”
It was a shock. Hammersley’s letter of a few weeks ago had prepared her for his indefinite advent; but the thought of death had not come to her. Will Hammersley was dying, apparently alone, in an hotel at Marseilles; dying, too, in an atmosphere of mystery, for he must see her, and Quixtus too, before he died. The message was urgent, the appeal imperative.
“Oh, Clementina, I hope it’s not bad news,” cried Etta.
Clementina handed the telegram to Tommy.
“It’s from the sick man of S
