t all beyond the memorandum stating his
wife and child were last heard of in Whitmansworth Union."

"But in the former will, which you say was destroyed?"

"I am not at liberty to divulge anything that might be contained in
that document."

"There is nothing to prevent your acting on such instructions at your
own prompting," Christopher insisted bluntly.

Mr. Saunderson looked at him critically. "That is an ingenious
suggestion Mr. ..." he paused.

"Aston," said Christopher. "It's the name those who have treated me as
a son gave me, and I see no obligation to change it."

The lawyer rose.

"Then we are to defer further discussion till Wednesday?"

"Until Wednesday. In town, not here."

He left with Mr. Shakleton in his wake, and Christopher was at last
alone and free to weigh if he would the weight of this stupendous
burden, which he resolutely decided was not his to bear. He stood
looking out of the window at the still driving mist and had to drag
his thoughts back from the external aspect of things to the inner
matters he must face. But there was no lucidity in his mind, nothing
was clear to him but his fierce resentment against the dead man, and
a passionate pity for a faded woman.

"It was the beauty of grace rather than feature...." He was stung with
intolerable shame for the manhood he must share with one who had
wrought such havoc in the woman he was most bound to protect from
herself, as well as from the world. The risks and chances of those
early days flickered before him. He had been abandoned to such for
some vague ultimate good to the colossal idea of fortune which neither
he nor its late possessor could spend. Was he more bound to take it
and its cares to himself than its author was bound to care for his own
flesh and blood? Anger clouded his reason and he knew it. Yet if he
could not think coherently on the matter, of what use were the three
days of grace he had claimed? He could not endure company at present,
and the four walls of his room were as a prison. At last he sent a
hasty message to the motor house, tossed a few necessaries into a bag
and wrote a note to Caesar. "Dear Caesar, I've got to make up my mind
about this and I must do it alone, so to come to some decision I'm
going off in the car. I'll be back when I've got the thing straight in
my mind. Tell St. Michael and Nevil about it, but if you can help it
don't let anyone else know.--Christopher Aston."

He drove slowly down the dr