ility of woman's aid), he would have
taken him as he was, good or bad, without compunction, but he
recognised that Christopher was not the outcome of his own efforts
only, that Aymer having expended the unpriceable capital of time,
patience and love, might, with all reason, according to Peter Masters'
code of life, look for the full return of sole possession in the
result. Was he, then, in the face of his own standard of honest
dealing, going to rob Aymer of the fruit of his labours, to take so
great a something for nothing?

Let it be to Peter's everlasting credit that he knew his millions to
be as inadequate to offer a return as any beggar's pocket. He had no
quarrel with himself over his past conduct, he repudiated nothing and
regretted nothing, he merely viewed the question from the immediate
standpoint of the present. Was he going to violate the one rule of his
life or not? He made no pretence about it. If he claimed his son he
would claim him entirely. Christopher would refuse, would resist the
claim at first--of that Peter was assured. But it would be Aymer
himself who would fight with time on his side and insist on Peter's
rights, he was equally assured of that. But still Christopher would
refuse.

Peter Masters got up and began to walk up and down and parcelled out
bribes.

"He shall have the Foundry to play with--a garden city for them if he
likes. His own affair run on his own silly lines." So he thought,
ready to sweep to oblivion rule and system for the possession of this
son of his.

But there remained Aymer.

Whether he gained Christopher in the end or not the very making of the
claim would make a break between Aymer and his adopted son,--a gulf
over which they would stretch out hands and never meet.

Aymer loved him. Aymer of the maimed life, the shattered hopes, whose
destiny filled Peter with sick pity even now, so that he stretched out
his great arms and moved sharply with a dumb thankfulness to something
that he could move.

He might as well rob a child--or a beggar--better: he could give them
a possible equivalent.

He went slowly to the side table and had a second whiskey and soda,
mechanically as he had done at first, then he rang the bell.

When Christopher sought him shortly before dinner-time he was told
curtly he could go to London at his leisure and purchase a car where
and how he liked, so it were a good one.

"I shall want a chauffeur with it," he added, "English, mind. You ca