of room to lay him flat. I'll have the nurse and the doctor here and a
room ready. Get there if possible before he does, so as not to move him
about too often."

Meanwhile Mrs. John Blake, bride now of nearly eight hours, lay in a
stricken heap upon the bed, bedewing with hot tears the shirt she had so
dutifully laid ready for Mr. John Blake, and which now he was never more
to wear. And Mr. John Blake, in a hurricane of fear, exasperation and
bewilderment, a taxicab, and the swift-falling darkness, fared from
hotel to hotel and demanded speech with Mrs. John Blake, a young lady in
blue with several handbags and some heavy luggage, who had arrived at
some hotel early that afternoon.

His interview with old Nicholson had been short and satisfactory, and
at about five-thirty o'clock he was at the Ruissillard inquiring for Mrs.
J. Blake's number and floor with a confidence he was soon to lose. There
was no such person. No such name. Then could the clerk tell him whether,
and why, she had gone elsewhere. A slim and tall young lady in blue.

The clerk really couldn't say. He had been on duty for only half an
hour. There was no person of the name of Blake in the hotel. Sometimes
guests who failed to find just the accommodation they wanted went over
to the Blinheim, just across the avenue. So the bridegroom set out upon
his quest and the clerk, less world-weary than his predecessor, turned
back to the telephone-girl.

Presently there approached the desk a brisk, business-like person who
asked a few business-like questions and then registered in a bold and
flowing hand, "Mr. and Mrs. Robert Blake, Boston."