There was a minute of dumb horror; then Félicie would have broken into lamentation before the messenger if Claire had not hastily signed to him to go round to the offices. Léon stood, ghastly white; his wife clasped his arm with both hands, and Félicie’s sobs, the only sound, came to her ears as distant as the rush of the river. Léon did not hear them at all. For the moment he was turned into stone, and his heart stood still. He had talked of it, dreaded it, but until this instant the horror of the thing had never really touched him. Arrested! He, Léon de Beaudrillart!
He looked round at his wife, and her eyes met his with brave tenderness. But he wanted words, and he held the letter to her with piteously trembling hands. Every word had already burned itself into her brain. His lips faltered the words: “What does it mean?”
If she could only have told him that it was a dreadful nightmare from which they would presently wake! The clasp on his arm tightened. She whispered:
“Dear, we will meet it together.”
Claire, who in spite of her anger against him, was listening breathlessly for some suggestion, turned away with a groan and rushed up-stairs to her mother’s room. She panted out:
“We must think of a way of saving Léon. Nathalie is helpless, and if something is not done he will be arrested.” In the immediate face of danger Mme. de Beaudrillart’s iron will exerted itself. She was deadly pale, and she clutched the back of a chair; but her voice was unshaken as she put the quick question: “When? To-day?”
“To-morrow.”
“Then we must act. Bring them here.”
They were already on the stairs. Léon came in first, his round face absolutely colourless, his limbs dragging. He tried to smile, but the effort only seemed to contort his features, and, stumbling forward, he sank into a chair, and stretched out the hand which held the letter to his mother. She read it with staring eyes, and when she spoke her voice sounded as if one metal struck another.
“This is no time for crying out, or for tears,” she said. “Monsieur Rodoin has done very well in giving us warning, and he no doubt understands that you must not be arrested. What remains is to decide how to act, and then to act quickly. There has been too much delay already. I suppose the time for money is past—”