“Your son is born,” she said.
Instantly to both men it was as if eerie bonds, drawn over-taut, had snapped, releasing them again to the physical world about them. The high mystery was over; life was human and kindly once again. Farraday dropped into his chair and held a hand across his eyes. Stefan threw both arms round Miss McCullock's shoulders and hugged her like a child.
“Oh, hurrah!” he cried, almost sobbing with relief. “Bless you, nurse. Is she all right?”
“She's perfect—I've never seen finer condition. You can come up in a few minutes, the doctor says, and see her before she goes to sleep.”
“There's nothing needed, nurse?” asked Farraday, rising.
“Nothing at all, thank you.”
“Then I'll be getting home, Byrd,” he said, offering his hand to Stefan. “My warmest congratulations. Let me know if there's anything I can do.”
Stefan shook the proffered hand with a deeper liking than he had yet felt for this silent man.
“I'm everlastingly grateful to you, Farraday, for helping me out, and Mary will be, too. I don't know how I could have stood it alone.”
Stefan mounted the stairs tremblingly, to pause in amazement at the door of Mary's room. A second transformation had, as if by magic, taken place. The lights were out. The dawn smiled at the windows, through which a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains. Gone were all evidences of the night's tense drama; tables and chairs were empty; the room looked calm and spacious.