s for his
father, was at liberty to look too. They were interesting
photographs,--to a boy. Mostly of horses ridden, led, alone, jumping,
horses galloping, horses trotting, and over and over again a picture
of one horse, and rider, who never seemed to wear a hat and had a
thick head of hair that looked as if it might be the same colour as
Caesar's. At last he came to a bigger, more distinct photo of the same
man and horse. The horse was evidently a polo-pony and was galloping
and the man on it in white riding things, with his shirt open at the
neck and was swinging a polo stick in his hand. There was no mistaking
it this time: it was undoubtedly Caesar. Christopher gave a little
gasp. Caesar like that, vigorous, active, panting,--Christopher could
feel it so--with life and excitement. He scrambled to his knees with
the picture in his hand.

"Caesar, dear Caesar, look what I've found."

Aymer looked round, saw the scattered photographs, and held out his
hand.

"Is it you really? May I have it for myself?"

Caesar took the card and as he gave it up, Christopher knew he had made
a mistake, and got scarlet.

"Where did you find it?" demanded Aymer sharply.

"In the cupboard in the little red room. We were turning it out."

"Yes, it's I. Why shouldn't it be? I wasn't always a cripple, you
know."

He tossed the picture back on the rug. The scar stood out white and
distinct, and his face was strangely hard and set. A book slipped down
on the left side and he tried to catch it with the left hand and
failed, and it fell with a bang on the floor.

"May I have it?" asked Christopher meekly from the rug.

"What for? You don't know the horse and you don't know the man. Put it
in the fire."

"No, I won't," exclaimed Christopher indignantly. "Caesar, don't be so
horrid, it's--it's--exactly like you."

Caesar ignored his own command and asked another question instead.
"Where did you say you found it?"

"In a cupboard in the little red room. It's such a jolly little room.
It isn't used now and there's hardly anything in it, but the cupboards
are full of things--lovely things. Patricia and I just explored."

"It used to be my room and the things are all mine. Why haven't they
burnt them?" he muttered.

Christopher gathered up the unlucky photographs and put them back in
the box. He was dimly conscious he did not want Mr. Aston to come and
see them.

"I'm sorry, Caesar, I didn't know we shouldn't have done it."

"Y