Things around him
grew hazy, vague, unreal, and then, as if realizing that something was
the matter with him, he came to his feet.
He took one step forward into the space between the tables, reeled,
attempted to steady himself by holding on to a chair, then everything
grew black about him, and he pitched forward on the floor. His face was
dead white; his fingers moved a little, nervously, weakly, then they
were still.
Several people rose at the sound of the falling body, and the new-comer
hurried forward. His coat sleeve caught the empty demi-tasse, as he
stooped, and swept it to the floor, where it was shattered. The head
waiter and another came, pell-mell, and those diners who had risen came
more slowly.
"What's the matter?" asked the head waiter anxiously.
Already the new-comer was supporting Mr. Grimm on his knee, and
flicking water in his face.
"Nothing serious, I fancy," he answered shortly. "He's subject to these
little attacks."
"What are they? Who is he?"
The stranger tore at Mr. Grimm's collar until it came loose, then he
fell to chafing the still hands.
"He is a Mr. Grimm, a government employee--I know him," he answered
again.
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