not know men did kiss little boys, and he ventured slyly to rub his
cheek against the black sleeve.

"Good-night, Christopher." Aymer held out his hand, and then suddenly,
half shyly, and half ashamed, kissed him also, and Vespasian bore him
off to bed.

The two men sat silently smoking, avoiding for the moment the subject
nearest their hearts, Aymer, because he was fighting hard to get some
mastering emotion under control, and he loathed showing his feelings
even to his father; Mr. Aston, because he was aware of this and wanted
Aymer to have time.

All that day he had been secretly dreading to-night, shrinking like a
coward from a situation which must arouse in his son memories better
forgotten. He was not a man given to shirking unpleasing experiences
to save his own heart a pang, but he was a veritable child in the way
that he studied to preserve his eldest son from the like.

It was Aymer who first spoke in his usual matter-of-fact tone.

"Had you any difficulties?"

"None whatever," answered his father, crossing his legs and preparing
to be communicative. "Stapleton had been all over the ground before
and knew every point. We went first to Surbiton Workhouse, since she
told Felton she stayed there. They found the entry for us. Then we
went on to Hartley, which is quite a small village and off the main
road. We stayed the night there, and went to the cottage where Felton
had seen her. It was quite true, all he said. The old woman remembered
distinctly a tramp-looking man stopping and calling to her over the
gate. They sat in the garden and talked together for some time. She
and the boy had been there a month, but they went the day after
Felton's visit--seemed frightened, the old lady said. Apparently they
meant to go to Southampton, for she had asked the way there.
Basingstoke must have been the next stop, but we did not know where
until the boy told us. They were in funds, so did not go to the House.
We got to Whitmansworth the next afternoon. Then a strange thing
happened, one of those chance coincidences that put to rout all our
schemes. There is a hill going into Whitmansworth with a milestone on
the top. I drove slowly, as I wanted to see if it really were the
place, and by the stone was a small boy. The likeness was so absurd
that it might have been ..." he stopped abruptly and examined his
cigar, "had I not been seeking him I should have seen it. I found out
his name, and that I was right, and took hi