Her tone was wildly excited as she said, “Oh, Brand! Have you seen the paper?”

“No,” growled Brandon, “I just came downstairs. Anything the matter? You look like last year’s tax bills. What’s happened?”

“Plenty!” said Vanna tragically. “Stan Asher’s been killed!”

“Killed!” said Brandon, echoing her word stupidly. “How? When?”

“Shot!” said Vanna with a gasp of her breath. “Shot in a nightclub in New York last night! Shot with a dancing girl he had with him. They’re both dead! They’ve arrested the girl’s lover. He didn’t make any attempt to get away!”

“Good night!” said Brandon in a shocked voice as if he had suddenly grown up.

“We mustn’t tell Gloria!” said Vanna breathlessly. “Not yet! Not till Dad comes! He’ll be sure to be here soon. He’ll see it in the paper. He’ll come to her right away! Better go hide the paper. It says awful things about Stan. She mustn’t ever see it!”

“She’ll have to know pretty soon if Dad doesn’t get here!” said the boy gravely. “And if Mother finds out—”

“Is Mother down yet?”

“I don’t think so. Her door was shut when I came by. What if we phone down to the office to see if Dad has got it yet? He went to New York yesterday, didn’t he? You sure he was coming back today?”

“No, but you know he’ll come when he sees this. And he can’t help seeing it. It’s in all the papers, great big headlines: STANWOOD ASHER, WEALTHY HEIR TO MILLIONS, SHOT DOWN WITH CHORUS GIRL BY JEALOUS LOVER IN NOTORIOUS NIGHTCLUB! Oh, it’s awful! To think anything like that could come to our family!”

Vanna caught her breath in a great sob and then suddenly held her breath and looked up the stairs, her eyes large with horror, for there stood Gloria in her lovely orchid dress with her gold hair aflame and her eyes wide pools of dark blue horror in a white, white face.

“Vanna! What is it? I’m not a child! Tell me everything! Quick!”

Vanna gave her young brother a frightened glance and sped up the stairs.

“It’s about Stan, dear!” she said, trying to make her voice sound steady. “It’s bad news!”

“Yes! I heard!” said Gloria. “Tell it over again slowly, just as you said it!”

Vanna gave a little gasp like a sob as she spoke the words, “Stan was killed in a nightclub in New York last night, dear.”

“And the girl?” said Gloria, fixing her sister with a keen glance.

Vanna caught another little sob in her throat.

“She was killed, too. By a jealous lover!”

Gloria reached out and caught hold of the stair railing.

“Brand!” she called to the brother who lingered in blank horror below. “Bring me that paper! Yes, please—!” as she saw Vanna shake her head. “I’ve got to know everything right away! Bring it, Brand! Vanna, won’t you please help me off with this terrible dress?”

Vanna drew her sister into Gloria’s own room and began to unfasten the hooks with fingers that trembled.

“There—couldn’t be a mistake, could there Vanna?” asked Gloria, casting an imploring glance her way as the dress was lifted over her head.

“No, there couldn’t be a mistake,” said Vanna sadly. “I telephoned Nance! She said her father went up on the early morning train. He phoned about ten minutes ago. It’s all true!”

Vanna looked around for Gloria’s robe.

“No,” said Gloria sharply, as her sister brought out a blue silk robe. “No, I’ve got to have a dress on!”

“You ought to lie down, dear!” soothed Vanna. “You don’t realize yet! You need to lie down and take it quietly!”

“No,” said Gloria, “I must do something! I don’t know what, but there’ll be things to do. I must have a dress on and be ready.”

Vanna searched helplessly in the closet for something appropriate. What would one wear on an occasion like this? Mourning? If Gloria was dressed, people would be likely to see her, and they would criticize whatever she had on.