"She was delirious, or half-delirious, when she wrote this."
"Philip, she was dying."
"Yes. What do you propose to do?"
"Nothing. The boy said he came a long way, and that whoever brought him ran away. It is plain she has taken precautions to conceal her hiding-place. Let things be as they are. They are best so."
He spoke like a man in a dream. He was half stunned. It seemed to him that all this had passed in some dreary long ago, and that he was only faintly recalling old experiences, not living among words and facts and surroundings subsisting to-day.
"And what about----?" Ray finished the sentence by pointing with his free hand at the boy.
"Eh? About what?"
Bramwell's eyes were looking straight before him far away.
"About our young friend here?"
"She has been careful to remind me of my legal responsibility. I have no choice. Besides, putting the question of legality aside, I have no desire to escape from the charge, though I am ill-suited to undertake it, and do not know how I shall manage. He is, of course, a stranger to me. He was a mere baby when last I saw him. I cannot think of this matter now. I am thick-blooded and stupid with memories and sorrows."