Christopher Hibbault, Roadmaker Part 55

"Well, what is it?"

"What is Constantia teaching you?"

"Me again," she returned with a show of indignation, "why on earth should that worry you?"

"I don't like new facets to familiar diamonds," he grumbled obscurely, "you are getting too old. Patricia."

"You are losing your manners." But even under the banter the colour died from her face and her hand fell listlessly to her side.

"I won't allow you to be older than I am."

She was saved further embarra.s.sment by Renata's entrance, but all dinner time she was conscious of his silent "awareness" of her and was troubled by it, and it was a new and unpleasing sensation to be troubled by any att.i.tude of Christopher's. Then his scrutiny stopped abruptly as if she were suddenly placed outside his range of vision, and that att.i.tude suited her mind as poorly as the other.

She hardly knew if it were by her own will or Christopher's that she sat with him and Aymer that evening. She was quite powerless to resist the request that might have been a command, and there is some pain in life that we cling to, dreading its loss more acutely than its presence.

Mr. Aston was away, a rare occurrence now, and the three sat talking before the fire, till the dear familiar intercourse and the peace put to sleep the dull ache in Patricia's heart. They talked--or rather the men talked--of Christopher's latest experiences abroad. He had been to the scene of a vast tunnelling operation in which his part was to come later.

"They suggest we should take over their men's shanties as they stand."

"Will you?" demanded Caesar. These things were in Christopher's hands.

"They might serve as material," he answered drily. "Two of their overseers and twenty men asked for berths with me. They are mostly Italians. If we keep them to make our encampment, I shall have to go myself. It is rather odd how these men pick things up. I heard----" he broke off abruptly.

"We didn't," remarked Caesar suggestively after a minute.

"It was not much, but it is funny how a nick-name travels. There were about five hundred men there still, and I heard one say as I pa.s.sed, 'Ecco il 'Roadmaker.''"

He was evidently boyishly pleased at the recognition, though he did not conclude the sentence. The man had saluted him as he added to his comrade, "C'e un maestro d'uomini, non di brutti."

Patricia gave Caesar a quick look and caught his answer. It was as if some sudden bond of sympathy were tied between them.

Caesar continued skilfully to ply Christopher with questions and extracted the information that the Patrimondi Company was much disliked by the big manufacturing powers.

"They say we spoil our men, and their own grumble. They sent me a deputation to ask us to cancel the Sunday holiday, which they never grant on contract work, and they feared the result of our example."

"And you politely agreed?" suggested Caesar, watching Patricia.

"I told them to----" again he stopped and laughed; "well, Patricia, I told them such was the time-honoured custom of my country and regretted my inability to consider their request."

"I expect they only get into mischief on Sunday."

Caesar flung out this with a.s.sumed contempt, but it brought no quick retort. Christopher answered slowly, with his eyes on the fire.

"We plan excursions for them when there is anything to see or amus.e.m.e.nts of some kind. They are like children. If they are not amused they must needs make mischief."

His voice was rather grave and Aymer knew there must have been difficulties here of which he did not mean to speak openly.

"It is deplorable if our Roadmaker is going about destroying other people's comfortable paths. Don't you agree with me, Patricia?"

She flushed up quickly, grasping his meaning at once.

"Not if their paths encroach on weaker people's rights. I think it's just what is wanted." Then because Caesar laughed, she realised he was only drawing her, and flung him an appealing glance.

"But we mustn't encourage him openly, Patricia, or he'll leave us no old tracks at all."

"I'm only the humble instrument of a company," protested Christopher.

"I merely carry out the regulations of my superiors."

"Who are entirely at your mercy, you should add."

Christopher disdained to reply to so obvious a fallacy. Presently, when he had gone to fetch some drawings to show them, Caesar said quizzically.

"Has he obliterated any of your pet footpaths, Patricia?"

She shook her head.

"The Company has great confidence in him," he announced gravely.

She looked straight at him. There was a kind intelligence in his eyes, and he held out his hand to her. "Present company not excepted. But we must not spoil him, Patricia."

And she understood that her secret was Aymer's and it lent her a sense of security and rest to know it, so that when she went to bed she reproached herself for her former childish moods. "I should be glad his strength of purpose and commonsense are so great," she told herself, forgetting love and commonsense were ever ill neighbours. "I am never going to marry, and it would be difficult to say no to him.

To-night was just one of the best of times that can be for us."

That unwise thought aroused the dull throbbing ache in her heart again and the reasonable salve she offered it had no effect. She slept with it, woke with it, and knew it for the close companion of many days.

But Christopher's last thought was, "I am not going to do without her any longer, if I am to meet her any more in this way. I should have read her soul again to-night if I had not remembered in time."

Aymer Aston lay awake wondering what was the matter between the two that they did not guess their palpable secret. He was the richer for another day's respite and every day was a tide carrying him to the sh.o.r.e of safety.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A chilly, rainy mist shrouded the country and blotted out the familiar beauty. Not a day for walking, but Christopher had chosen to tramp to a far-off corner of the estate on some pretence of business and had come back through the wet, dripping woods, burr-covered and muddy. He was met in the hall by a message that Mr. Aymer wanted him at once, so without waiting to change he strode away, whistling, to the West Room and came to a standstill on the threshold, finding Aymer had visitors with him.

There were two gentlemen, one was Mr. Shakleton, the son and successor of the old solicitor who had played his part in the finding of Christopher, the other was a stout, complacent man with gold-rimmed gla.s.ses and scanty sandy hair, and all three of the occupants of the room looked towards the door as if waiting for and expecting him. A glance at Caesar's face brought Christopher swiftly to his side and established instantly a sense of antagonism with the visitors.

"You want me, Caesar?"

"Yes. We want you. Mr. Shakleton you know. This is Mr. Saunderson."

Both men stood up and to Christopher's amazement bowed profoundly.

"I am very honoured to meet you," said Mr. Saunderson suavely. "I hope it will be the commencement of a long and fruitful acquaintance."

Christopher felt rather at a loss to know if the man meant to be impertinent or was merely being silly. He looked at Caesar with the hostile impatience he felt only too apparent. The hostility but not the impatience deepened as he noticed the drawn beaten look on Aymer's face. Also he was uncomfortably conscious of the three pairs of eyes watching him with rapt attention. The mild Mr. Shakleton, however, seemed entirely obscured by the expansive personality of the bigger man.