By this time the face of the old man had lost its gay aspect. He had turned pale. His eyes were no longer sprightly, but fixed with a strange glitter, not turned directly towards his son--in fact, avoiding his son's gaze. It was as though he suspected--he more than suspected, he assumed--Eugene had some bad news to give him, and that he would wait there patiently for the bad news to come without aiding his son's story by the display of curiosity. "But, sir, I have some reason to fear Lavirotte will not be able to do all he said. I am disposed to think, on good grounds, that he will not have all the money we want in time." The son now avoided the father's face. They were sitting at opposite sides of the large office table. The son's eyes were turned towards the window looking into the quadrangle. The father's eyes were fixed vacantly upon the door of the strong-room behind his son, and to his right. "In that case," said the elder man, "I should mortgage." "I am very much disinclined to go on," said the young man, frowning heavily, "but I have no alternative. Lavirotte will not be able to give you all you want, and I do not think you will be able to pay all." "Then I shall sell. I shall sell every stick I have in the world." The old man's eyes became more fixed than ever; they never wandered from that door. His face became more pallid. With both hands he grasped the elbows of his chair. He sat well in the chair, leaning slightly forward, as though he expected someone who would try and pull him out of it. His son looked hastily at him for a moment, then turned his eyes away as hastily, and said slowly: "You must know, sir--you must by this time have guessed that I have had bad news from London, from Lavirotte. You must try and bear up, sir, for all our sakes. It will be a bitter blow after the hope we have lived in for months." James O'Donnell seemed to abandon the position he had taken up with regard to Eugene's news. It would be folly any longer to affect ignorance that something terrible was coming, or to court delay. "What is the news from Lavirotte?" he asked. "Lavirotte is himself injured by some accident, and he has no longer any hope of realising the money he expected." "No longer any hope," repeated the old man. "No longer any hope, sir. We are not to rely on him for the least aid. What do you purpose doing, sir?" "I must think over the matter for a while, Eugene." He looked calmly at his watch. "You have only just time to catch the train, and I would rather be alone at present." "If you would let me stay, sir, I would much rather remain with you. I can drive home later." "No, Eugene; you may go now. I would rather be alone." The old man seemed quite calm and collected; in fact, so calm and collected, that Eugene resolved not to go to Glengowra by the train, but to run up to his father's house and to tell his mother what had occurred.