“I want to say to you, Mrs Brood, that it is my purpose to remain in this house as long as I can be———”
“You are welcome, Lydia. You will be the one great tonic that is to restore him to health of mind and body. Yes, I shall go further and say that you are commanded to stay here and help me in the long fight that is ahead of us.”
“I thank you, Mrs Brood,” the girl was surprised into saying.
Both of them turned quickly as the door to Frederic's room opened and James Brood came out into the hall. His face was drawn with pain and anxiety, but the light of exaltation was in his eyes.
“Come, Lydia,” he said softly, after he had closed the door behind him. “He knows me. He is conscious. Hodder can't understand it, but he seems to have suddenly grown stronger. He———”
“Stronger?” cried Yvonne, the ring of triumph in her voice. “I knew! I could feel it coming—his strength—even out here, James. Yes, go in now, Lydia. You will see a strange sight, my dear. James Brood will kneel beside his son and tell him———”
“Come!” said Brood, spreading out his hands in a gesture of admission. “You must hear it, too, Lydia. Not you, Thérèse! You are not to come in.”
“I grant you ten minutes, James,” she said with the air of a dictator. “After that I shall take my stand beside him and you will not be needed.” She struck her breast sharply with her clenched hand. “His one and only hope lies here, James. I am his salvation. I am his strength. When you come out of that room again it will be to stay out until I give the word for you to re-enter. Go, now, and put spirit into him. That is all I ask of you.”
He stared for a moment and then lowered his head. A moment later Lydia followed him into the room and Yvonne was alone in the hall. Alone? Ranjab was ascending the stairs. He came and stood before her and bent his knee.
“I forgot,” she said, looking down upon him without a vestige of the old dread in her eyes. “I have a friend, after all.”