up the steps and went at once to the
office. Three nurses were standing there talking.

"Can you tell me where they have taken Mr. and Mrs. Felderson?"

"Were they the people in the automobile accident?"

I nodded my head.

One of the nurses led me to a large room on the second floor. As we
neared the door a young interne, so the nurse told me, came out. He
was thoughtfully polishing his glasses.

"I am Warren Thompson, Mr. Felderson's brother-in-law," I explained.
"Can you tell me how badly Mr. and Mrs. Felderson were hurt?"

He put his glasses back on his nose and looked at me sympathetically.

"Mr. Felderson is dead, and Mrs. Felderson is dying," he said.

CHAPTER FIVE

ACCIDENT OR MURDER

Have you ever had the whole world stop for you? Well, that's what
happened when that young interne told me that Jim was dead. I must
have been half mad for a few moments, at least they said I acted that
way.

Sometimes, tragic news deadens the senses, like the brief numbness that
follows the sudden cutting off of a limb, the pain not manifesting
itself until some time afterward. But with me, the fact of Jim's death
clawed and tore at the very foundation of my brain. It stamped itself
into my sensibilities with such crushing force that I writhed under the
burden of its bitter actuality. I felt as though I, myself, had died
and my spirit, snatched from the brilliant, airy sunlight of life, had
been plunged into the hammering emptiness of hell. "Jim is dead--big,
happy, kind-hearted Jim is dead" ached through my brain.

They gave me something to drink--ammonia, I think--and my whirling head
began to clear.

"Can I see Mrs. Felderson?" I asked the interne. It was he who had
given me the ammonia.

"I'm afraid not," he replied. "She is being prepared for the operating
table."

"There is a chance, then, of her being saved?" I clutched at his arm.

He slowly shook his head. "One chance in a thousand only, I'm afraid.
There was severe concussion of the brain and a slight displacement of
one of the cranial vertebra. Luckily, Doctor Forbes is here, and if
any one can save her, he can." He got up from his seat beside me.
"Now, Mr. Thompson, I advise you to go home and get a good night's
rest. You can do nothing here, and the next few days are bound to be a
great strain."

"You will telephone me at once the result of the operation?" I asked
quickly.

"I wouldn't count too much on the operation," he