“We can't find him,” said Ransome, solemnly: “and we fear—we sadly fear—”
Grace uttered a low cry, and then sat trembling.
Ransome tried to console her; said it was just possible he might have not slept in the works.
The porter shook his head.
Grace sprung from the carriage. “Show me the place,” said she, hoarsely.
Ransome demurred. “It is an ugly sight for any one to see.”
“Who has a better right to see it than I? I shall find him if he is there. Give me your arm: I have heard him speak of you.”
Then Ransome yielded reluctantly, and took her to the place.
He showed her Henry's room, all rent and mutilated.
She shuddered, and, covering her face with her hands, leaned half fainting against her conductor; but soon she shook this off, and became inspired with strange energy, though her face was like marble.