Part 40 (1/2)

The miles slipped by in unbroken silence. It was not till they were nearly home that Christopher spoke.

”I thought that was all quite gone, Patricia.”

”So did I,” she returned wearily. ”It's ages since I was so stupid.

It's generally all right if you are there.”

”But I'm not always there anyhow.”

”I don't mean there really. I just shut my eyes and pretend you are and hold on. But just now I waited for you to do something. I forgot you were driving.”

”You mustn't rely on me to stop you now,” he insisted, with new gravity.

”Oh, yes, I do. It's always you if I stop in time; either you actually, or thinking of you. Don't talk about it, Christopher dear, it was too horrible.”

She did not explain if she meant the danger or the cause, but he obeyed and said no more. A terrible fear clamoured at his heart. Did Geoffry Leverson know or did he not? and if he knew, would he even understand? He tried to tell himself that if he could manage her, then another, and that her acknowledged lover, could do so too, but he knew this was false reasoning. Such power as he had over her lay in his recognition that the irresistible inheritance was not an integral part of Patricia, but was an exotic growth, foisted upon her by the ill-understood laws of paternity, and finding no natural soil in her pure self--something indeed, of a lower nature, that she must and could override. He could have curbed it in the brief flash just over, he knew, had his attention been free. It had died as it had come and the penalty of the crushed fingers hurt him as unwarrantable, combined with the peril they had run.

It was a fresh addition of cloud to the dimmed day to find Peter Masters had not departed, but was staying the night.

CHAPTER XX

Aymer gazed out of the open window at Christopher and Peter Masters as they walked to and fro on the terrace. He knew the subject they were discussing, and he was already sure how it would end. But what were the real issues involved he could not determine, and he was impotent, by reason of his vow and will, to influence them. He could only lie still and watch, tortured by jealous fear and the physical helplessness that forbade him the one relief of movement for which his soul craved. The patience the long years had schooled him into was slipping away, and the elementary forces of his nature reigned in its stead.

Under the overmastering impulse towards action he made a futile effort to sit up that he might better follow the movements of the two outside. It was a pathetic failure, and he swore fiercely as he fell back and found his father's arms round him.

”Aymer, if you are going to be so childish, I shall tell Christopher not to go.”

”No. I'm a fool, but I won't have him know it. He must go if he will.”

”There is nothing to fear if he does. What is wrong with you?”

”I want to go back to town, I'm tired of this.”

”You are far better here than in town,” said his father uneasily.

”I'm well enough anywhere.”

”I shall have to tell Christopher not to go.”

”No.” The tone was sharply negative again, and after a moment's silence Aymer said in a low, grudging voice, ”You've always helped before; are you going to desert me now?”

For answer his father got up and pushed the big sliding sofa away from the window.

”Very well, then behave yourself better, Aymer, and don't ford a stream before you come to it. You've got to listen to Penruddock's speech.” He folded back the _Times_ and began to read.

When Christopher came back a little later he saw no sign of the trouble. Perhaps he was a little too much engrossed in his own perplexities to be as observant as usual.

”Caesar, do you think it's a shabby thing to stay with a man you don't like?”