Minott on Monday?"
The doctor crossed to Jack's side. He was breathing heavily, his
lips quivering; he looked like a man who had received some sudden
shock.
"Go up to Mrs. Minott," he gasped. "It's all over, Breen. He's
dying. He took the whole bottle."
At this instant an agonizing shriek cut the air. It was the voice
of Corinne.
CHAPTER XXVIII
No one suspected that the young architect had killed himself.
Garry was known to have suffered from insomnia, and was supposed
to have taken an overdose of chloral. The doctor so decided, and
the doctor's word was law in such MATTERS, and so there was no
coroner's inquest. Then again, it was also known that he was doing
a prosperous business with several buildings still in course of
construction, and that his wife's stepfather was a prominent
banker.
McGowan and his friends were stupefied. One hope was left, and
that was Jack's promise that either he or Garry would be at the
trustees' meeting on Monday night.
Jack had not forgotten. Indeed nothing else filled his mind.
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