stumbled on the son of someone he used to know?"

Again the oscillation made Mrs. Sartin nod vigorously. She bestowed on
her companion another of those shrewd, dubious glances, began a
sentence and stopped.

"Yes. What were you saying?" asked Christopher absently.

"You've come quite far enough, Mr. Christopher," she announced, with
the air of a woman come to a decision, "you just tell that man on the
top to stop and let me out. Thanking you all the same, but I don't
care to be seen driving 'ome this time of night and settin' folks
a-talking. You set me down, there's a dear Mr. Christopher."

She got her way in the matter of dismissing the cab, but not in
dismissing Christopher, her primary desire, lest an indiscreet tongue
should prompt her to say more than was "rightful," as she explained to
Jessie.

"For if the dear innocent don't see 'ow the land lays, it isn't for me
to show 'im, and Mr. Aymer so good to Sam."

"Maybe you are all wrong," said Jessie shortly.

Mrs. Sartin sniffed contemptuously.

The Sartins no longer inhabited Primrose Buildings, but were proud
inhabitants of a decent little house in a phenomenally dull street,
sufficiently near the big "Store" to suit Sam's convenience. Sam
himself came to the door and, late as it was, insisted on walking back
with Christopher into the region of cabs, and, becoming engrossed in
conversation, naturally walked far beyond it.

"This partnership business," began Sam at once, "I do wish, Chris,
you'd get Mr. Aymer to make it a loan business. I'd be a sight better
pleased."

"I can't for the life of me see why," Christopher objected with a
frown. "It's only a matter of a few hundred pounds, and if Caesar
chooses to spend it on you instead of buying a picture or enamel, or
that sort of toy, why should you object. It's not charity."

"Then what is it?" demanded Sam, "because I'm not a toy. Don't fly out
at me, Chris, be reasonable. I'm as grateful to him as I can be, and I
mean to use the chance he's given me all I can. But this partnership
business beats me. It's all very well for him to do things for you. Of
course he couldn't do less; but how do I come in?"

A drunken man reeled out of a house and lurched against Christopher,
who put out his hand to steady him without a word of comment, and when
the drinker had found his balance, he turned again to Sam with sharp
indignation.

"He could do a jolly sight less for me and still be more generous than
most