The door was still open, and in the dim light of the hall were crowded the five or six people who had followed him. It was not insolence that brought them to the threshold. They had been disquieted by rumours, and thought that he could give them some information. Christian put his hand in the lad’s shoulder, and asked: “Where have you been, Michael? Where have you come from?” The boy continued rigid and silent. “Where is Ruth?” Christian asked, as by a supreme effort. Michael arose. His eyes were unnaturally wide open. With both arms he made a large, obscure gesture. Horror shook him so that a gurgling sound which arose in his throat was throttled before it reached his lips. Suddenly he swayed and reeled and fell like a log. He lay on the floor. Christian kneeled down and put his arms about him. He lifted him a little, and gathered the muddy, trembling boy close to him. He bent down his face, and learned an unheard-of thing from the beseeching, horror-stricken glance that sought him as from fathomless depths. Passionately he pressed Michael’s body against his own, which was so wet but no longer aware of its wetness. He pressed the boy to his heart, as though he would open to him his breast as a shelter, and the boy, too, clung to Christian with all his might. The convulsive rigidity relaxed, and from that unbelievably emaciated body there broke forth a sobbing like the moan of a wind of doom. The boy knew. No one could be so shattered but one who knew. Then Christian kissed the stony, dirty, tear-stained face. Johanna saw it, and the timid people at the door saw it also. INQUISITION I Edgar Lorm was accustomed to taking his meals without Judith, so he was not surprised at her absence to-day and sat down alone. The meal was served: a lobster, breast of veal with salad and three kinds of vegetables, a pheasant with compote, a large boule de Berlin, pineapple and cheese. He drank two glasses of red Bordeaux and a pint of champagne. He ate this excessively rich meal daily with the appetite of a giant and the philosophical delight of a gourmet. As he was lighting his heavy Havana cigar over his coffee, he heard Judith’s voice. She burst in, perturbed to the utmost. “What has happened, dear child?” he asked. “Something frightful,” she gasped, and sank into a chair. Lorm arose. “But what has happened, my dear?” She panted. “I haven’t been feeling at all well for several days. I got the doctor to look me over, and he says I’m pregnant.” A sudden light came into Lorm’s eyes. “I don’t think that’s such a terrible misfortune.” He had difficulty in concealing his surprised delight. “On the contrary, I think it’s a blessed thing. I hardly dared hope for it. Indeed, my dear wife, I don’t know what I wouldn’t give to have it true.”