On the other side of Ronnie, in the very centre of the scene, stood a queer old chair of Italian workmanship, the heads of lions completing its curved arms, on its carved back the _fleur-de-lis_ of Florence, its seat of padded leather, embossed in crimson and gold.
This was all Dick saw, excepting the leaping flames of the fire beyond.
And even as he looked, Helen's arm fell to her side; he saw her turn, lift the Infant off Ronnie's breast; and, bending over him, draw his head on to her lap.
Dick turned from the mirror.

The scene in the room was identical with the reflection, in all points save one.

The Florentine chair was under Ronnie.

It had fallen with him.

Its back was broken.