"Heard what, Andy?" she replied, her face paling as she noted the man's strange look.
"Why, they didn't get 'im out," he said. "It's in the mine he is, sure, mum."
She stood for a moment in silence, her face as white as the wall behind her. Then she clasped her hands tightly together and all the muscles of her body grew rigid in the desperate effort to remain calm for the sake of the unconscious man on the bed, for the sake of the lost boy in the mine, for the sake of her own ability to think and to act.
Goodlaw saw the struggle and rose from his chair.
"It's a dangerous imprisonment," he said, "but not, of necessity, a fatal one."
She still stood staring silently at the messenger who had brought to her these dreadful tidings.
"They're a-thryin' to get to the mouth o' the shaft now," said Andy. "They're a-dhraggin' the timbers away; timbers wid the fire in 'em yit. Ye'd be shtartled to see 'em, mum."
Then the lady spoke.
"I will go to the shaft," she said. Her carriage was already at the door; she started toward it, throwing a light wrap across her arm as she went.
Again the man on the bed moved and moaned.