thought himself familiar with every depth of suffering; that night had taught him that what he felt for himself was not to be compared with the anguish which wrung his heart over the agony of Edith Carr. He tried to blame Philip Ammon, but being an honest man, Henderson knew that was unjust. The fault lay wholly with her, but that only made it harder for him, as he realized it would in time for her. As he sauntered into the room an attendant hurried to him.
"You are wanted most urgently at the 'phone, Mr. Henderson," he said. "You have had three calls from Main 5770."
Henderson shivered as he picked down the receiver and gave the call.
"Is that you, Hart?" came Edith's voice.
"Yes."
"Did you find Phil?"
"No."
"Did you try?"
"Yes. As soon as I left you I went straight there."
"Wasn't he home yet?"
"He has been home and gone again."
"Gone!"
The cry tore Henderson's heart.
"Shall I come and tell you, Edith?"
"No! Tell me now."
"When I got to the house Banks said Mr. Ammon and Phil were out in the motor, so I waited. Mr. Ammon came back soon. Edith, are you alone?"
