NOT SUICIDE. IT took Attorney Milton Garder about fifteen minutes to motor from his residence to the apartment house where Mrs. Madge Lennek had her expensive suite. On the way he fussed and fumed and told himself that it probably was nothing important at all, and that silly women who had been left fortunes were the bane of his existence. Mrs. Lennek probably had suddenly made up her mind to purchase a country place, or something of the sort, and thought that the matter of funds, title, and deed transfer could not wait for twenty-four hours. Attorney Garder told himself that he would be sarcastic with the lady. The apartment house reached, Attorney Garder got out of the car and turned a patient face toward his patient chauffeur. These two men understood each other well. “Wait,” the attorney ordered. “How long, I do not know. I am calling on a — er — a lady client. She says that it is a matter of life and death, so I am of the opinion that I’ll be at least ten or fifteen minutes.”
