As though with the very tangibility and imminence of the danger she had come forth to meet Mrs. Romayne’s spirit rose higher, the only sort of change brought to her face by the words was an intensifying of all its previous characteristics of growing courage and determination. From Clemence’s lips the little tremulous light had died, quenched in such a horror of vicarious shame, of pity, love, and anguish unspeakable, as seemed to freeze her where she stood. “The facts! The facts!” The words came from Mrs. Romayne sharp and tense, seeming to put aside and ignore any extraneous comment or opinion. Falconer hesitated again for a moment and scanned her face closely, absolutely unconscious of his own incapacity for reading what was written there. So far was he from an adequate conception of the realities of the situation, that he thought that a plain statement of details would crush out for ever the hope of which he was conscious in her. And he decided that such instantaneous crushing was the only mercy he could show her. Gravely and concisely, with no unnecessary comment, he told her the whole story as he had gathered it half an hour earlier from Julian’s incoherent, despairing words. He finished and paused, holding himself braced for the outbreak of despair which he expected. His words were followed by a dead silence. His eyes were fixed on Mrs. Romayne with a vague fear for her reason, and he felt rather than saw that Clemence had turned away and was standing with her face hidden in her hands. Mrs. Romayne’s brows had contracted as if in intense thought, and her eyes were extraordinarily bright and keen. At last, with no slightest relaxation of the intent calculation of her face, she asked one or two questions as to details of business procedure, the words coming from her sharp and distinct; questions of which Falconer, as he answered them, tried in vain to see the drift. Then she moved with a gesture of determination, so self-absorbed that it seemed to isolate her utterly. “Take me to him at once!” she said. A sharp exclamation broke from Falconer, and, as she moved towards the door, he followed her hastily, indescribably disturbed and confused by so entirely unexpected a course of action. “To what purpose?” he said quickly. “I beg of you to be advised by me. The boy must go! Nothing can be gained but a parting----” Mrs. Romayne turned upon him and faced him suddenly. “I am here to see my son,” she said, and there was something in her voice--rather in what its intense restraint suggested than in its tones themselves--absolutely dominating and conclusive. “You came to help me. Take me to him, or tell me where to find him.”