“But in the former will, which you say was destroyed?”
“I am not at liberty to divulge anything that might be contained in that document.”
“There is nothing to prevent your acting on such instructions at your own prompting,” Christopher insisted bluntly.
Mr. Saunderson looked at him critically. “That is an ingenious suggestion Mr. ...” he paused.
“Aston,” said Christopher. “It’s the name those who have treated me as a son gave me, and I see no obligation to change it.”
The lawyer rose.
“Then we are to defer further discussion till Wednesday?”
“Until Wednesday. In town, not here.”
He left with Mr. Shakleton in his wake, and Christopher was at last alone and free to weigh if he would the weight of this stupendous burden, which he resolutely decided was not his to bear. He stood looking out of the window at the still driving mist and had to drag his thoughts back from the external aspect of things to the inner matters he must face. But there was no lucidity in his mind, nothing was clear to him 324 but his fierce resentment against the dead man, and a passionate pity for a faded woman.
“It was the beauty of grace rather than feature....” He was stung with intolerable shame for the manhood he must share with one who had wrought such havoc in the woman he was most bound to protect from herself, as well as from the world. The risks and chances of those early days flickered before him. He had been abandoned to such for some vague ultimate good to the colossal idea of fortune which neither he nor its late possessor could spend. Was he more bound to take it and its cares to himself than its author was bound to care for his own flesh and blood? Anger clouded his reason and he knew it. Yet if he could not think coherently on the matter, of what use were the three days of grace he had claimed? He could not endure company at present, and the four walls of his room were as a prison. At last he sent a hasty message to the motor house, tossed a few necessaries into a bag and wrote a note to Cæsar. “Dear Cæsar, I’ve got to make up my mind about this and I must do it alone, so to come to some decision I’m going off in the car. I’ll be back when I’ve got the thing straight in my mind. Tell St. Michael and Nevil about it, but if you can help it don’t let anyone else know.—Christopher Aston.”