’ ‘No, for that would have had to be in Melusine’s possession to start with. From your pocket there. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely.
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