“I believe I quite grasp the matter,” he said coolly. “Mr. Masters has, with no doubt the kindest meaning in the world, left his fortune to me. It’s unfortunate that I don’t happen to want all this money. I couldn’t possibly do with it.”
Mr. Saunderson leant back in his chair with a tolerant smile as if this were just what he would expect to hear after the shock, but Aymer bit his lip as if face to face with some inevitable ill.
Christopher leant towards him.
“You are worrying about it, Cæsar. There can’t be any need to say any more now. Of course it’s out of the question my accepting it. They can’t make me a millionaire against my wishes, I suppose. Anyhow it’s a preposterous will.”
“There is no will,” began Cæsar and then looked at the big lawyer, “tell him,” he added shortly. Mr. Saunderson cleared his throat.
“That is so. There is no will and the fortune naturally goes to the next of kin.”
“Very well, then,” returned Christopher, with blunt relief. “I believe he told me once he had a son somewhere. You had better find him. I don’t want to deprive him of his luck.”
Again the embarrassing silence. Then the big lawyer got up and bowed solemnly to Christopher.
“We have found him. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Mr. Masters.” 312
Christopher wheeled round on him like a man struck.