“We may assume that much. To put it mildly, he has been on the spree since the day he got the new certificates.”
“You have had him watched?”
Risk nodded. “And I have gone into his past to some extent. He is not a desirable person, I fear. But we shall leave him for the present. My sister and Miss Carstairs, also your friend West, are dining with me to-night, and I hope you are free to join us.”
Colin flushed with pleasure.
“I should like you,” continued Risk, “to make your quarters here for the present. Sharp has a room ready for you. And now I’m going to ask you an impertinent question. Have you any debts?”
“No—well, I owe my father £100,” the young man replied ruefully.
“Then pay it; and if you think you have any grudge against him, forget it. For this year I will pay your salary quarterly, in advance. Don’t thank me. I simply want you to be able to serve me with as free a mind, and as light a heart, as possible. Frankly, you’re an experiment.” With a kindly laugh Risk proceeded to write a cheque.
It was no shame to Colin then if his eyes were moist. Surely his father would think kindlier of him now.
An hour later he and Kitty were face to face. Ages long it seemed since their parting in the little wood, less than three weeks ago! How much had happened since then! Perhaps Kitty was more at her ease than he. She had slipped into the new, pleasant life as though she belonged to it. She was still a little shy, but not awkwardly so. She had never been “countrified,” yet Colin had always thought of her as a country maid—and had loved her none the less for that. In sunlight and moonlight he had deemed her the prettiest creature alive. But now, under the shaded electric lamps of a London drawing-room in a white muslin frock that gave glimpses of her neck and arms, he beheld her, and his faithful heart ached at her fresh loveliness.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” she whispered, smiling, as they shook hands.