“My dear boy, I thought you were not coming till to-morrow at the earliest.”
“Will it be inconvenient?” asked Christopher, with demure gravity. “I’m sorry, but I was so bored.”
He stumbled a little over the prevarication. St. Michael was not Peter Masters, even excuses found no easy flow in his presence.
“I’m delighted,” said Mr. Aston, and looked it. 264
He had breakfasted in his room, so he sat down by Christopher and tried to find out the reason of the opportune return.
“Your letters did not sound at all bored.”
“I only realised it yesterday evening,” returned Christopher, with great gravity, “so we—that is I—came down by the mail last night—and Nevil....”
“Nevil?”
“Yes, I picked him up, you know. He was seeing a man in Leamington.”
Christopher carved ham carefully, and avoided Mr. Aston’s eye, smiling to himself over his promise to Nevil not to betray him.