At eleven o’clock on Wednesday, Mr. Aston and Christopher were ushered into Mr. Saunderson’s office by a discreetly interested clerk. The bland and smiling lawyer advanced to meet them with that respect and courtesy he felt due to the vast fortune they represented. His table was covered with orderly rows of papers, and the door of the safe, labeled P. Masters, Esq., stood open.

“Punctuality is the essence of good business,” said Mr. Saunderson, with effusive approval as he indicated two lordly armchairs placed ready for his visitors. Mr. Aston and Christopher had both a dim, unreasonable consciousness of dental trouble and exchanged glances of mutual encouragement.

Mr. Saunderson blinked at them genially behind his gold-rimmed glasses and spoke of the weather, which was bad, dilated on the state of the streets, lamented the slowness of the L. C. C. to enforce the use of Patrimondi beyond the limits of Westminster, and as the futile little remarks trickled on they carried with them his complacent smile, for in every quiet response he read Christopher Masters’ fatal determination, and prepared himself for battle. It was Christopher, however, who flung down the gauntlet. He answered the question anent the use of Patrimondi in the metropolis, and then said directly:

“Mr. Saunderson, I’ve considered the matter of this fortune you tell me I’ve inherited, and I do not feel under any obligation to accept it or its responsibilities. It’s only fair to let you know this at once.”

Mr. Saunderson leant back in his chair and rubbed 345 his chin, and his eyes wandered from one to the other of his visitors thoughtfully.

“The matter is far too complicated to be disposed of so lightly, I fear,” he remarked, shaking his head. “Let me place the details of the thing before you and as a business man you can then judge for yourself.”

He had at least no fault to find with the grave attention they paid him, indeed, the entirely unemotional attitude of the younger man was to the lawyer’s mind the most alarming symptom he had noted. Still he could not allow to himself that his task presented more than surmountable difficulties, for Mr. Saunderson had no real knowledge of the forces at work against him, of the silent, desperate woman who had given her life for her faith, who had once been beautiful, and whose worn body slept in the little dull cemetery at Whitmansworth.

“I believe you are acquainted with the great premises known as Princes Buildings,” began Mr. Saunderson, “that simplifies my task. For the whole affair is so amazingly managed that I can offer you no precedent with which to compare it. There are seven floors in that building, and on each floor the affairs of the six great concerns in which Mr. Masters was interested, are conducted. Such an arrangement was only carried out at enormous expense and trouble. I may tell you, however, that the condition of Mr. Masters’ interesting himself in either of the companies, was their domicile beneath this one roof. Now in five of these big concerns he occupied merely the place of a director, with no more official power than any other director might have. Yet in every case, I think I may say, no decision of any importance would have been taken by the company in opposition to his advice, and he was the financial backbone of each. On the two top floors of these great premises we have a rather different state of things. For here are the 346 offices of the three smaller companies which were directly under the control of Mr. Masters, and which are the original source of his fortune. I allude to the Steel Axle Company, the Stormly Mine and the Stormly Foundry Companies. These affairs he continued to keep under his own eye, never relaxing his attention, or the excellent system he had established, under which the whole great affair worked with such marvellous smoothness and success. I beg your pardon, did you say anything?”

Christopher shook his head. Mr. Saunderson resumed.

“You will understand Mr. Masters’ wealth was directly drawn from these companies, bringing him an income of roughly £130,000 a year. The administration of this income, of which he spent about one-fourth on himself, was the occupation of the offices on the top floor of Princes Buildings. A certain proportion of income was regularly reinvested in concerns in which Mr. Masters took no active part, and was accumulative. It is this reserve fund which has brought the actual fortune to such high figures as I have quoted you, nearly £4,000,000. A great deal of money also has been devoted to the purchase of freehold property. You would be surprised how great an area of Birmingham itself belongs to Mr. Masters.”

Christopher gave an involuntary movement of dissent, and the lawyer hurried on.

“Not perhaps districts that it would be interesting to visit now, but which will undoubtedly be of vast interest to your heirs. They represent enormous capital and of course will eventually be a source of colossal wealth.

“Now, so perfect is the machinery and system under which all these giant concerns are worked, that they will run without difficulty on their present lines until you have mastered the working thoroughly, and 347 are able, if you should wish it, to make your own plans for future greatness. I say this, because it seems to me you are inclined to overrate the difficulties of your position. I do not say, mind you, matters could go on indefinitely as they are, but you are a young man of intellect and capacity, you have only to step into the place of one who has set everything in order for you, and before two years are up you will have the details of the system by heart, and will, I am convinced, be recognised as an able successor to your father.”

Christopher’s mouth straightened ominously. It was an unlucky slip on Mr. Saunderson’s part, but he was oblivious to it. He was indeed incapable of appreciating the sentiment towards his late client, which was playing so large a part against him in this tussle of wills.

Christopher heard in every word that was spoken the imperious Will that would force him to compass its ends, even from the land of Death. It was not wholly the unsought responsibility, the burden of the wealth, the memory of his mother that buttressed his determination to refuse this stupendous thing, it was also his fierce, vehement desire to escape the enforced compliance with that still living Will-power. Peter Masters’ unwritten and unspoken word was, that he, Christopher, should succeed him. He had left him no directions, no choice, no request, he had relied on the Greatness of the Thing which Christopher loathed with his whole soul, he had claimed him for this bondage with an unuttered surety that was maddening. Minute by minute Christopher felt his former quiet determination rise to passionate resistance and denial of the right of that Dominant Will to drag his life into the vortex it had made.

Quite suddenly Mr. Saunderson was aware of the strength of the antagonism that confronted him. Unable 348 to trace the reason of it, he blundered on hopelessly.

“Mr. Masters was, I should say, quite aware of your natural ability. He has had more regard for your fortunes than you probably suspect. I have letters of his to various men concerning the starting of this ingenious invention of yours, Patrimondi.” He bustled over some papers on the table as if searching, and did not see Christopher’s sudden backward movement: but Mr. Aston bent forward and put his hand as if accidentally on Christopher’s shoulder as he spoke:

“Never mind them, now, Mr. Saunderson. Mr. Masters was, we know, naturally interested in that affair, but to continue your account, what will happen if Mr. Aston refuses to accept his position? Let us suppose for a moment there had been no clue left. What would you have done?”

Mr. Saunderson brought the tips of his red, podgy fingers together with great exactness.

“That is a supposition I should be sorry to entertain, sir,” he said deliberately.

“I am afraid you must entertain it,” put in Christopher, suddenly, his resolution to escape urging him to curt methods.

The light eyes of the lawyer rested on him with something very like apprehension in them.

“In the case of there being no direct heir the money would go to the nearest of kin.”

“We will pass that over,” Mr. Aston said quietly. “I am the nearest relative Peter had, after Christopher, and I decline it at all costs.”

“Unclaimed and unowned money would fall to the Crown, I suppose. It is impossible to imagine it.”

“The Crown would see no difficulty in that, I expect,” put in Christopher. “How could you stop the Thing going on, that’s what I want to know?” 349

“You could give the money to Charities and shut down the works and leave thousands to starve.”

Christopher moved impatiently.

“The money invested in each company could be divided amongst the shareholders, I suppose, or in the case of the Stormly Mines amongst the work-people.”

“If you want to ruin them.”

“Mr. Saunderson, I am not going to accept this fortune. I don’t like the way it was made, I don’t want it, I won’t work for it.”

“Why should you work for it, after all? You can go on with your own life and delegate your powers to another or others, and let all continue as it is. The income would be at your disposal to save or spend. You need never enter Princes Buildings if that is what troubles you. You can spend the money in philanthropy, or gamble it away at Monte Carlo, or leave it to accumulate for your heirs. If you’ll do that I’ll undertake to find suitable men to carry on the affairs.”

Christopher’s face flushed angrily, but he made an effort to control himself, however, and answered quietly.

“I cannot take money I’ve not earned, Mr. Saunderson.”

Mr. Saunderson made a gesture of despair.

“All you have to do,” went on Christopher, watching him closely, “is to act as if that clue had never fallen into your hands or as if when you followed it up you found I was dead. Do you mean to say Mr. Masters did not provide for that contingency?”

“As I have told you before, Mr. Masters provided for no such contingency,” snapped the lawyer; “he never entertained such a preposterous idea as your refusing.”

“To conform to his will,” concluded Christopher drily.

The three men were silent a while, each struggling 350 to see some way out of the impasse into which they had arrived.

“You say the various companies are entirely distinct from each other?” queried Mr. Aston thoughtfully, more for the sake of starting a line of inquiry than because he saw any open door of escape.

“Entirely unconnected, but Mr. Masters, or his successor, holds the ends of the various threads, so to speak. Apart from him each affair has a multitude of masters and no head. If the money left in each company were divided as a bonus—a preposterous suggestion to my mind—they would each be free and would presumably find a head for themselves.”

“Then you had better work out some such scheme, and once free of the source of the money we can deal with what’s left at leisure. The Crown will make no difficulties over its share and we can set the London hospitals on their feet or establish a Home for Lost Cats.” He got up and walked across the big room to the window, looking moodily into the street.

Mr. Saunderson looked genuinely pained and cast appealing glances at Mr. Aston, who only shook his head.

“It is a matter for Christopher to decide for himself, Mr. Saunderson. I cannot and may not influence him either way.”

“There is not the smallest doubt of his parentage,” said the lawyer in a low voice, “one can hear his father in every sentence.”

“It is unwise to remind him of it.”

The other looked astonished. “Indeed, you surprise me. Yet he is really deeply indebted to his father for the success of his own invention.”

“Still more unwise to insist on that. You must remember he had a mother as well as a father.”

Mr. Saunderson opened his mouth to say something and closed it again. Presently he opened a folded 351 paper and, having perused it, laid it back in a drawer. Christopher rejoined them.

“Mr. Saunderson,” he said frankly, “I fear I’ve spoken in an unseemly manner, and I beg your pardon. I can quite understand I must seem little short of a madman to you, but I’ve perhaps better reasons for my refusal than you think. Put it, if you will, that I feel too young, too inexperienced to deal with this fortune as Mr. Masters meant it to be dealt with, and on those grounds I ask you to devise some scheme for breaking it up without letting the workers suffer. I’ll subscribe to any feasible plan you suggest. Will you undertake this for me?”

“It will take time.” Mr. Saunderson regarded him watchfully, as he spoke, “a great deal of time.”

“How long do you ask?”

“Two years.”

“Then in two years’ time, Mr. Saunderson, send me your scheme, and I’ll be your debtor for life.”

Mr. Saunderson smiled faintly.

But on that understanding they ultimately parted.

“My own belief is,” said Mr. Aston when he was giving an account of the interview to Aymer, “that Mr. Saunderson means to do nothing at all and is only giving Christopher time. Also, though he persistently denies it, I believe he has instructions behind him. We know Peter had an immense belief in Time and never hurried his schemes.”

Aymer moved restlessly.

“And you share his belief?”

“I believe in the long run Christopher will do the thing he is meant to do and neither you nor I, old fellow, can say what that is. You have taught him to follow the highest Road he can, see, and I tell you again, as I have before, you must leave it at that.”