The old lady stopped. The habits of her life conquered even her impatience for news of her son. Stepping back to the looking-glass and catching sight of her haggard old face and unsmoothed hair, she said: “You go down, Deborah, and tell his lordship I shall be ready to receive him in ten minutes.” But Deborah thought she could reckon on a good half-hour. She was white and agitated herself when she entered the morning-room, where the earl was standing by the fire. His expression told her that her fears were well-founded. “I don’t know how to break the news to you,” he said at once, in a low voice, as they shook hands. “But have you heard anything? You look as if you had.” “Nothing. I have only guessed by your face, and in fact from your coming, so early, so unexpectedly. Mamma guessed too.” “The old lady? She isn’t up yet, is she?” asked he anxiously. “Yes. She will be down in a few minutes.” “Then I must make haste. For I could not meet her. You know it is about--Rees.” “Is he dead?” “No, unhappily, I might almost say. He is concerned in a stupendous robbery.” Deborah listened with surprising outward calmness. She had expected some calamity of this sort for such a long time that it almost seemed to her that she was hearing old news. “Is he in the hands of the police?” she asked quietly. “No. They have not even been informed of the robbery yet, except perhaps unofficially. For the great object is to get the jewels back without noise.” “Jewels?” “Crown jewels.” Deborah started. She had not expected anything so sensational as that. “What are you going to do?” she whispered. “I am going to try home influence, your influence, if you will help us.” “Of course.” “Put on your things.” He looked at his watch. “We have twenty-eight minutes before the train starts. No time to lose. If by to-night we are not in the way to recover the jewels we must trust to the police.” Deborah ran to the door, but, with her fingers on the handle, she turned with a white face. “Mamma!” she whispered, scarcely doing more than form the words with her lips, “she is outside.” She rattled the handle, but still she heard the sound of heavy breathing on the other side. At last, very gently, she opened the door, and found, as she had begun to fear, Mrs. Pennant on her knees, with half-closed eyes, in a kind of fit. The old lady had known that an attempt would be made to keep from her something concerning her son, and had had recourse to eavesdropping to find out the truth. “I can’t go up to London now,” said Deborah quietly, but in a tone of despair. “We will see,” said the earl.