n
charge your expenses with your commission, whatever that is."

Christopher said gravely he would consider the matter.

"You can send me word how Aymer is," concluded Masters shortly. "I
suppose he's ill. The whole lot of you spoil him outrageously."

CHAPTER XXIII

Perhaps they did spoil Aymer Aston, these good people, who loved him
so greatly, setting so high a store upon his happiness that their own
well-being was merged therein.

While it was quite true that neither Nevil nor any other could have
worked peacefully in the electrical atmosphere of the house after
Christopher left with Peter Masters, it is also true that no temporary
personal inconvenience would have driven Nevil to undertake the long
and tiresome journey, if his brother's welfare had not been involved.

The need had been great. Aymer's restless misery increased every day
of Christopher's absence. He refused to see any of the household but
his father and Vespasian, and though at first he made desperate
efforts to control himself, in the end he gave up, and long hours of
sullen brooding silence were interposed with passionate flashes of
temper. It was the old days over again, and all those near him
realised to the full how great was the victory that had been won and
how terrible life might have been for them all without it. Therefore
they were very patient and tolerant, though Mr. Aston began to
consider seriously if he would not be justified in breaking his given
word to Aymer and summoning Christopher back at once.

He looked very worn and tired when he joined Renata at dinner on the
Thursday night.

"Nevil does not mean to be away long, does he?" he inquired
anxiously.

"No, I think not. Why, St. Michael? Does Caesar want him?"

"He asked for him this evening."

"What a pity."

She went on with her soup, with a little rose of colour on her face,
thinking of the secret her husband had of course confided to her.
Presently observing St. Michael hardly touched his dinner and seemed
too weary to talk, she suggested nervously that she should sit with
Aymer that evening. He conjured up a kind smile of thanks, but refused
in his gentle, courteous way, saying that Aymer seemed disinclined to
talk.

When Mr. Aston went back to the West Room a little later, that
disinclination seemed to have evaporated. He heard Caesar's furious
voice pouring a cascade of biting words on someone as he opened the
door. Vespasian was the unfortunate occ