Christopher took up the key and looked at it, thinking of all the doors in the world it would unlock for him, thinking of the powers of which it was a symbol, of how it fastened the door of his freedom and opened for him the door of a great servitude of which he was already proud.
Mr. Saunderson also was silent a moment listening to his own thoughts and looking at Christopher with misgivings. 371
“Will you live at Stormly Park?” he asked airily.
“I expect so. It is not let, is it?”
Mr. Saunderson permitted himself a little smile of superiority as he answered.
“Everything has been kept just ready for you these two years. But it will hardly be to your taste. Perhaps you will like it done up—altered?”
Christopher shook his head. “Not yet.”
“You can afford it, you know.”
At that the young man suddenly faced him, as if he meant to say something of importance, and stopped.
“Yes, I suppose I can afford it,” he returned, and added with apparent irrelevance, “Do you happen to know Stormly village, Mr. Saunderson?”