It is doubtful if that listening sleeper ever before heard such soothing, softly modulated tones. Hoping that Paul would give some clew to recent events, Pierre lay long in this dissembling stupor. Fearing from his son's nervous preparations that he soon may start out on some night trip up the Thames, Pierre concludes to learn what has happened. Slowly opening his eyes and staring at Paul, he asks: "What time is it, Paul?"
With much sympathy, Paul replies: "I found you unconscious this morning lying on the cellar floor. I carried you to the cot, and from involuntary movements discovered the sprained ankle. After stitching on the saturated bandages, I brought out refreshments and liquors. You did not use these, but continued unconscious, responding only in mutterings. I watched all day until evening, and then went out a few minutes for some needed provisions." No reference was made to the previous night's experiences.
Much relieved, Pierre shows great appreciation of his boy's kindly interest.
Paul is pleased at these grateful comments. He now and then glances at his watch. Nervously walking to the door, he returns and sits down by his father's side. With much filial solicitude he says:
"Father, you should never venture out on late night watches. This attack was the result of last night's vigil.
"You are getting older, father, and can't stand night work. It will never do to risk such an attack at night. I cannot bear the thought of sleeping while you are wandering about London, liable to be paralyzed at any moment in some dark alley. I need my father's counsels too badly to risk losing him through such rash exposure."
Growing excited, Paul grasps his dagger, and glowering at the shrinking, reclining form, dramatically waves the glistening blade as he utters the injunction:
Cowed by this unexpected pose and threat, Pierre Lanier promises to stay in nights.
"I know my dear son is right! My own Paul always will care for his poor old father!"
Paul grows quiet. With shamefaced, submissive mien he sheathes the thin, gleaming blade. Then follow suppressed sobs and hysterical assurances of future obedience.
With childish penitence this hardened youth, steeped in murderous guilt and crazed by tragic memories almost to the point of irresponsible parricide, hiding his face upon his father's breast, cries himself to sleep.