Part 43 (2/2)
”Do you remember Mrs. Masters?” he was tempted to ask presently.
”Indeed I do, seeing I was here when he brought her home. Tall, thin, and like a queen the way she walked, a great lady, for all she was simple enough by birth, they say. But she went, and where she went none of us know to this day, and some say the Master doesn't either, but I don't think it myself.”
Christopher straightened a pen and ink sketch of a workman on the wall. It was a clever piece of work, life-like and sympathetic.
”She did that,” said Mrs. Eliot with a proprietor's pride. ”She was considered clever that way, I've been told. That's another of hers on the easel over there.”
Christopher examined it and gave a gasp. It was a bold sketch of two men playing cards at a table with a lamp behind them. The expression on the players' faces was defined and forcible, but it was not their artistic merit that startled him, but their ident.i.ty. One--the tolerant winner--was Peter himself--the other--the easy loser--was Aymer Aston.
So Aymer did know of Mrs. Masters' existence, knew her well enough for her to make this intimate likeness of him.
”Was it done here?” he asked slowly.
”No, she brought it with her. I don't know who the other gentleman is, but it's a beautiful picture of the master, isn't it? so life-like.”
”Yes.”
He looked again round the room, fighting again with his desire to search for more traces of its late owner, and then grew hot with shame at his curiosity. He left Mrs. Eliot rather abruptly and wandered out of the house, but the unknown mistress of the place haunted him, glided before him across the smooth lawns, he could almost hear the rustle of her dress on the gravel, and then recollected with relief it was only the memory of the old game he used to play at Aston House with his dead mother, transferred by some mental suggestion to Stormly Park. Presently he saw the bulky form of Peter Masters on the steps and joined him reluctantly.
”I want to see you, Christopher,” said Peter as he approached. ”Come into my room. I shan't be able to go to London this week to buy the car, so you must stay until Monday and go up with me then,” he announced, and without waiting for a.s.sent or protest plunged into his subject with calculated abruptness.
”This road business of yours, is there money in it?”
”I think so. It is not done yet.”
”How long will it take you to perfect it?”
”How can I tell? It may mean weeks, it may mean months.”
”What are you going to do when you've found it?”
”Get someone to take it up, I suppose.”
Christopher was answering against his will, but the swift sharp questions left him no time to fence.
”I'll take it up now. Fit you up a laboratory and experimenting ground and give you two years to perfect it--and a partners.h.i.+p when it's started.”
Christopher looked up with incredulous amazement.
”But it's a purely scientific speculation at present. There are just about half a dozen people on the track. We are all racing each other.”
”Well, you've got to win, and I'll back you. You shall have every a.s.sistance you want--money shan't count. You can live here and have the North Park for trials, as many men as you want and no interruption.”
”But it's impossible. It's not a certainty even.”
”No speculation is a certainty. If you bring it off it will mean a fortune, properly managed. I can do that for you far better than Aymer. We should share profits, of course, and I should have to risk money. It's a fancy thing, but it pleases me.”
Christopher got up and went to the open window. The tussle between them had come. It would need all his strength to keep himself free from this man's toils. However generous in appearance, Christopher knew they were toils for him, and must be avoided.
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