ive, out into the highroad and, turning
westward, sped away into the misty distance.

A great stillness fell on Aymer when Christopher left him. He had
lived so long under the shadowy fear of the thing that had now
happened, that it was hard to credit the fear had passed in
fulfilment. He had been forced back to face the past, and, behold, the
terror of it was gone. He could only measure the full value of the
effort he had made by the languor and listlessness that now wrapped
him round, as a child who had overtaxed his strength and must needs
rest. A hazy doubt crept into his mind as to what it was he had so
dreaded--the resuscitation of the past, or Christopher's reception of
it. In either case the fear had faded as some phantom form that melted
in daylight.

He stumbled on one thought with vague wonder. No barrier had been
raised between him and his adopted son: instead he found the only
barrier had been erected by his own lack of strength to face that
truth until the inexorable hand of God forced him to the issue.

As to the future he recognised that might be left to Christopher,
whose whole life, since Aymer took him, had been a preparation for
this situation. His long struggle to keep a grip on life was ebbing
fast, it was good to leave decisions in another's hands, to rest, and
accept.

When Mr. Aston returned Caesar gave him Christopher's note with a brief
remark.

"Saunderson has been."

The note, short as it was, told the rest. Mr. Aston looked anxiously
at his son, but Aymer met his eyes with a quiet smile.

"I'm glad you were away, St. Michael. You've had enough to contend
with, and there was no need. There is nothing for either of us to do.
It's Christopher's affair."

Mr. Aston looked at the note again and reread the signature, then he
gave it back, satisfied.

"What will happen if he won't accept it?" he questioned thoughtfully.

"It is for him to decide." Aymer's tone was earnestly emphatic.
"Father, we've done our part. We can't alter it if we would. Leave him
free."

"It is the crown of your success that you can do so, my dear old
fellow."

"The coronation has not taken place yet," returned Caesar, with a touch
of dry humour that reassured his father more than any words that all
was well with his son.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, hour after hour, Christopher's car raced over the white
roads. The twinkling lights in the villages through which he spe