Mr. Saunderson rose. "You must not be alarmed, my dear sir," he said in a forced whisper, with a glance towards Christopher, "such news often takes a man off his feet for a while. He'll soon appreciate it." "No doubt. Order anything you like, Shakleton." They were alone at last, yet Christopher did not move. "Christopher, come to me," called Aymer quietly. At that he turned and walked mechanically to the sofa, seating himself, again with his elbows on his knees, and his eyes absently fixed on the carpet. "Did you know this before, Caesar?" Aymer's face twitched. "Yes, always." "Did--he--know?" "Yes, apparently." "You did not tell him?" "No." Christopher looked up sharply and met his eyes, and again he forgot his own intimate trouble before the greater one. "Thanks, Caesar," he said, dragging up a smile, "it would have been far harder at your hand." Then suddenly he sunk on his knees by Aymer's side, and hid his head against the arm that had sheltered him as a child. "They can't make me take it," he whispered, "even if I am his son. But Caesar, Caesar, why didn't you tell me before?" "I hoped you would never know. Did you never have any suspicion yourself?" "Never. It was the last thing I should have imagined." "You have never asked me anything. You must sometimes have wondered about yourself." "I was quite content." Christopher spoke with shut teeth. Under no provocation must Caesar know the falsehood that had lain so long in his mind. He saw it in its full proportion now, and hated himself for his blindness in harbouring so ugly a thought. "We were never certain how much Peter knew and I've never known for the past three years whether he meant to claim you or not." "If you'd only told me, Caesar!" "It was my one hope you should not know." "I don't think I've earned that," he said reproachfully. "It was myself, not you, I thought of. You've got to know the whole thing now. Go and sit there in your old place and don't look at me till I've finished." So Aymer at last reached the moment when he must break the seals of silence--that expected moment that had hung over him like some shadowy fate as a foretaste of judgment, when he must retrace the painful footsteps of his life across the black gulf from which he had climbed. But as he turned his face to the darkness, there was light also on the other side, and he forgot he had feared.