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Updated: May 2, 2025
"I know very little about your investments outside the mine," Aynesworth answered. "They couldn't very well approach a more ignorant person. Are you going to help Barrington to make a fortune?" Wingrave turned his head. There was a slight contraction of the forehead, an ominous glitter in his steel grey eyes. "I think," he said, "you know that I am not likely to do that."
"Life is the same, the world over," another man remarked. "With every forward step in civilization, life must become more mechanical. London is no worse than Paris, or Paris than Tokyo." Aynesworth shook his head. "I don't agree with you," he replied.
Again Aynesworth preferred to reply by a gesture only. Barrington was watching him steadily. "A political secretaryship, Mr. Aynesworth," he said, "might lead you anywhere. If you are ambitious, it is the surest of all stepping stones into the House. After that, your career is in your own hands. I offer you such a post."
"I have called to see you," Aynesworth explained, "with reference to one of your parishioners the daughter of your late organist." "Indeed!" the clergyman remarked solemnly. "I saw her today for the first time and have only just heard her story," Aynesworth continued. "It seems to be a very sad one." His listener inclined his head.
"I had no home in those days, and I was afraid of being sent away." It was in his mind then to tell her of the envelope with her name upon it in his study, but a sudden rush of confusing thoughts kept him silent. It was while he was laboring in the web of this tangled dream of wild but beautiful emotions that Aynesworth came.
They descended the stairs together. Outside, Wingrave was leaning back in the corner of an electric brougham, reading the paper. Aynesworth put his head in at the window. "You remember Lovell, Mr. Wingrave?" he said. "We were just talking when your message came up. I've brought him down to shake hands with you."
"Nevertheless," Wingrave admitted, "there are times when I fear that we shall not get on together. I begin to suspect that you have a conscience." "You are the first," Aynesworth assured him, "who has ever flattered me to that extent." "It may be elastic, of course," Wingrave continued, "but I suspect its existence. I warn you that association with me will try it hard."
Today I turn the scale at ten stone and am afraid to be alone in the dark." "You will be yourself again in no time," Aynesworth declared cheerfully. "I shall be better than I am now, I hope," Lovell answered, "but I shall never be the man I was. I have seen God grant that I may some day forget what I have seen! No wonder that my nerves have gone!
"I'll be back to lunch." Aynesworth was back in less than an hour. He carried under his arm a brown paper parcel, the strings of which he commenced at once to untie. Wingrave, who had been engrossed in the contents of his deed box, watched him with immovable face. "The tailor will be here at two-thirty," he announced, "and the other fellows will follow on at half an hour's interval.
"My answer to both questions is 'No!" Aynesworth said a little stiffly. "I only entered the service of Sir Wingrave Seton this morning, and I know nothing at all, as yet, of his private affairs. And, Lady Ruth, you must forgive my reminding you that, in any case, I could not discuss such matters with you," he added. She looked at him with a faint, strange smile.
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