“I quite see. What did Mrs. Aston say?”
“I think she said you’d be sure to come.”
Christopher nodded. “Yes, I’ll go by mail to-night.” Then he shut his teeth sharply and looked out of the window with a frown, thinking of the renewed battle of wills to come, and at last said he 253 would go and find Mr. Masters, since no one appeared to have told him of Nevil’s arrival.
He went straight down the corridor to Peter Masters’ room. The owner was still seated as he had left him, smoking placidly.
“Changed your mind already?” he asked as his guest entered.
“No, not that, but Nevil Aston has come and I must go back with him by the mail to-night.”
“What’s up?” The big man sprang to his feet. “Is Aymer ill?”
“No, no. I don’t think so. It may be Nevil’s fancy. He thinks Aymer wants me back. Of course it sounds absurd, but Nevil, who won’t stir beyond the garden on his own account, has come all this way to fetch me to Cæsar.”
Peter Masters was half-way to the door and tossed a question over his shoulder curtly.
“Where is he?”