Chapter 5 THE TWENTY-SEVENTHE CHILD WAS SLEEPING peacefully on the bed. The mother did not move from the sofa on which Lupin had laid her; but her easier breathing and the blood which was now returning to her face announced her impending recovery from her swoon. He observed that she wore a wedding-ring. Seeing a locket hanging from her bodice, he stooped and, turning it, found a miniature photograph representing a man of about forty and a lad—a stripling rather—in a schoolboy's uniform. He studied the fresh, young face set in curly hair: "It's as I thought," he said. "Ah, poor woman!" The hand which he took between his grew warmer by degrees. The eyes opened, then closed again. She murmured: "Jacques... " "Do not distress yourself... it's all right he's asleep." She recovered consc