The woman smothered a scream, but she could not smother a groan.
Wu laughed. He took a step towards her. “Have you no desire to hear my news of your son?” he asked softly. “Good news? I promised that you should—I am here to keep my promise.” The terrible significance of his words could not have been clearer, but he emphasized it hideously by gliding still a little nearer to the stricken, appalled woman.
“Oh! don’t torture me,” she implored, moving away.
“He is well—comparatively. His hands have received a trifling injury—quite trifling. But he is quite well”—nearing the woman again—“and he is here.”
“Here?” she sobbed, “here?”
“Almost within sound of your voice”—still nearer.
“O my God! where?” she cried, looking about her frantically. The third door caught her attention, and she ran to it weakly and beat against it, crying, “Basil! Basil!”
“Do not be so impetuous, dear lady,” Wu said with insolent gentleness; “I did not say he was there. And it is not good that he should hear your voice, for the sound would only distress him.”
She looked at Wu questioningly, and he gave her the cruel explanation. “You see, he is not at liberty to come until the right signal is given. It lies with you whether that signal shall be given or not!” He was very close to her now.
Wu Li Chang intended to use no physical force with this woman. He would not grant her degradation even that poor loop-hole of excuse.