"Dear lady, so am I," he replied with a promptness that did not console.

"Peter, what is it?" she went on breathlessly. "Barry is utterly
changed. You see it as well as I. I don't understand--I'm all at sea--I
want your help. I couldn't discuss him with anybody else, but you--you
are one of us, you've always been one of us. Fair weather or foul,
you've stood by us. What we should have done without you God only knows.
You care for Barry, he's as dear to you as he is to me, can't you do
something? The suffering in his face--the tragedy in his eyes--I wake up
in the night seeing them! Peter, can't you _do_ something?" She was
beside him, clutching at the mantel-shelf, shaking with emotion. The
sight of her unnerved, almost incoherent, shocked him. He realised the
depth of the impression that had been made upon her--deep indeed to
produce such a result. But what she asked was impossible. He made a
little negative gesture and shook his head.

"Dear lady, I can't do anything. And I wonder whether you know how it
hurts to have to say so? No son could be dearer to me than Barry--for
the sake of his mother--" his voice faltered momentarily, "but the fact
remains--he is not my son. I am only his agent. There are certain things
I cannot do and say, no matter how great the wish," he added with a
twisted smile.

Miss Craven seemed scarcely to be listening. "It happened in Japan," she
asserted in fierce low tones. "Japan! Japan!" she continued vehemently,
"how much more sorrow is that country to bring to our family! It happened
in Japan and whatever it was--Yoshio knows! You spoke of him just now.
You said he was hanging about--waiting--watching. Peter, he's doing it
all the time! He watches continually. Barry never has to send for
him--he's always there, waiting to be called. When Barry goes out the