“It is unwise to remind him of it.”
The other looked astonished. “Indeed, you surprise me. Yet he is really deeply indebted to his father for the success of his own invention.”
“Still more unwise to insist on that. You must remember he had a mother as well as a father.”
Mr. Saunderson opened his mouth to say something and closed it again. Presently he opened a folded 351 paper and, having perused it, laid it back in a drawer. Christopher rejoined them.
“Mr. Saunderson,” he said frankly, “I fear I’ve spoken in an unseemly manner, and I beg your pardon. I can quite understand I must seem little short of a madman to you, but I’ve perhaps better reasons for my refusal than you think. Put it, if you will, that I feel too young, too inexperienced to deal with this fortune as Mr. Masters meant it to be dealt with, and on those grounds I ask you to devise some scheme for breaking it up without letting the workers suffer. I’ll subscribe to any feasible plan you suggest. Will you undertake this for me?”
“It will take time.” Mr. Saunderson regarded him watchfully, as he spoke, “a great deal of time.”
“How long do you ask?”
“Two years.”
“Then in two years’ time, Mr. Saunderson, send me your scheme, and I’ll be your debtor for life.”
Mr. Saunderson smiled faintly.