Wu moved his chair an inch towards hers. Gregory did not turn round at the sound. The Chinese spoke lower, and the sympathy in his voice seemed very real, "And all your natural maternal anxiety" He paused eloquently, and the mother looked up at him, eagerly, gratefully. And in return he gave her a long direct look—there were respect and friendship in it. And after a moment she rose abruptly and went to the window.
"Robert!"
He did not answer. She touched his shoulder. He paid no attention. "Leave me to talk to Mr. Wu! Please!" But her tone was imperative.
A smile, a glint of triumph, flickered across the Chinese's face. "You, Mrs. Gregory?" he said, just stepping towards her—he had risen when she rose—"that would be different."
"He needs a man's methods of dealing with him!" Gregory growled, without turning.
"But they don't seem to have been very effective in your hands, do they? Robert," she urged more appealingly, "I want to find my boy! Let me try—my way."
"I'll send Ah Wong to you," was the grudging reply, and Robert Gregory shuffled awkwardly from the room. He did not even look at Wu again—and Wu barely looked at him.
"And who is Ah Wong, Mrs. Gregory?" Wu asked amiably, as the door closed.
"My servant," she told him.
"Your amah? But I do not need an interpreter," he laughed.
"She rarely leaves me."
"Who could?" he said with a little bow.
Ah Wong came noiselessly into the room.
"And now, Mr. Wu," the woman asked earnestly,
