“All you have to do,” went on Christopher, watching him closely, “is to act as if that clue had never fallen into your hands or as if when you followed it up you found I was dead. Do you mean to say Mr. Masters did not provide for that contingency?”
“As I have told you before, Mr. Masters provided for no such contingency,” snapped the lawyer; “he never entertained such a preposterous idea as your refusing.”
“To conform to his will,” concluded Christopher drily.
The three men were silent a while, each struggling 350 to see some way out of the impasse into which they had arrived.
“You say the various companies are entirely distinct from each other?” queried Mr. Aston thoughtfully, more for the sake of starting a line of inquiry than because he saw any open door of escape.
“Entirely unconnected, but Mr. Masters, or his successor, holds the ends of the various threads, so to speak. Apart from him each affair has a multitude of masters and no head. If the money left in each company were divided as a bonus—a preposterous suggestion to my mind—they would each be free and would presumably find a head for themselves.”
“Then you had better work out some such scheme, and once free of the source of the money we can deal with what’s left at leisure. The Crown will make no difficulties over its share and we can set the London hospitals on their feet or establish a Home for Lost Cats.” He got up and walked across the big room to the window, looking moodily into the street.
Mr. Saunderson looked genuinely pained and cast appealing glances at Mr. Aston, who only shook his head.
“It is a matter for Christopher to decide for himself, Mr. Saunderson. I cannot and may not influence him either way.”
“There is not the smallest doubt of his parentage,” said the lawyer in a low voice, “one can hear his father in every sentence.”