“Why named Jetsam?”
The woman’s mind was evidently exploring, in a sort of indifferent curiosity, the side-issues, the minor scenes, of the terrific drama which she had started and of which she now witnessed the climax.
She appeared to have no sense at all of her own responsibility.
“It was a name I gave myself when I first found out who I was,” said Jetsam bitterly. “Something chucked overboard and forgotten, you see.”
A slight smile seemed to illuminate the woman’s face.
“Do you agree that restitution should be made?” Carpentaria repeated patiently.
The eyes of the paralytic made no sign until Carpentaria began again to go through the alphabet. Then, letter by letter, the message came:
“If my son wishes.”
“Mother,” Ilam murmured, averting his face from the bed, “of course I wish. I nearly killed him myself the other day. You thought I had been dreaming—till you saw him yourself, and, and——”
He stopped; he broke down.