."

Whether Aymer believed or not, he asked no questions. He only remarked
that Peter was far more likely to have been bored and Christopher had
no eye to his own advantage. To which Christopher replied flippantly
that it was a question of "vantage out," and he was not going to
imperil his game with a rash service.

After that he sat on the foot of the bed and talked frankly of his
visit, and minute by minute the jealous fire in Aymer's heart died
down to extinction.

Presently, however, he said abruptly and rather reproachfully: "You
never told me Mr. Masters had married."

For a confused second the room and the occupants were lost in a fiery
mist and only Christopher's voice lived in the chaos. Then Aymer found
himself struggling to maintain hold of something in the mental
turmoil, he did not know what at first: then that it was his own
voice. It amazed him to hear it quite; steady and cool.

"Why should she interest you? Did Peter tell you?"

"No. Never mentioned it. One day I found Mrs. Eliot, the housekeeper,
in a room, a sort of boudoir, playing about with holland covers, and I
helped her. What was she like?"

"Mrs. Eliot?"

"No, you old stupid. Mrs. Peter Masters. I know you knew her, because
there's a pen-and-ink sketch of you and Mr. Masters playing cards in
the room."

"Oh, is there."

"Is she dead?"

"Yes."

"What was she like--to marry Mr. Masters?"

"Like? Like other women," returned Aymer, shortly.

Christopher looked at him sharply and realised he had committed an
indiscretion--that this was a subject that might not be handled even
with a velvet glove.

"Explicit," he retorted lightly. "However, that's not important. Now
for something of real moment."

He plunged into an account of Peter's final offer to him, and his own
refusal.

"Why on earth did you refuse? Wasn't it good enough?" demanded Aymer
curtly.

"No, not with P. M. attached. Might as well take lodgings in Wormwood
Scrubs--quite as much liberty. But, anyhow, Caesar, you see now what
you have got to do."

"Get you apartments in Wormwood Scrubs?"

"No. Do be serious. Give me a laboratory here and some experimental
ground. Do, there's a dear good Caesar." In reminiscence of old days he
pretended to rub his head against Caesar's arm.

"Ah, you invented Peter's offer to wheedle me into this. I suppose."

"Exactly. Seriously, Caesar, if you would, it would be excellent. I've
been thinking it out, I could work here safe