The Collected Works of R. Austin Freeman (Illustrated Edition). R. Austin Freeman

to show the copy of the will to Dr. Thorndyke. When I looked up from the paper I found her eyes fixed on me with an expression critical and rather disapproving.

      "You seem to be making yourself mighty agreeable in a certain quarter," she remarked.

      "I make myself universally agreeable. It is my nature to."

      "Ha!" she snorted.

      "Don't you find me rather agreeable?" I asked.

      "Oily," said Miss Oman. And then, with a sour smile at the open note-books, she remarked:

      "You've got some work to do now; quite a change for you."

      "A delightful change, Miss Oman. 'For Satan findeth'—but no doubt you are acquainted with the philosophical works of Doctor Watts?"

      "If you are referring to 'idle hands,'" she replied, "I'll give you a bit of advice, Don't you keep that hand idle any longer than is really necessary. I have my suspicions about that splint—oh, you know what I mean," and before I had time to reply, she had taken advantage of the entrance of a couple of patients to whisk out of the surgery with the abruptness that had distinguished her arrival.

      The evening consultations were considered to be over by half-past eight; at which time Adolphus was wont, with exemplary punctuality, to close the outer door of the surgery. To-night he was not less prompt than usual; and having performed this, his last daily office, and turned down the surgery gas, he reported the fact and took his departure.

      As his retreating footsteps died away and the slamming of the outer door announced his final disappearance, I sat up and stretched myself. The envelope containing the copy of the will lay on the table, and I considered it thoughtfully. It ought to be conveyed to Thorndyke with as little delay as possible, and, as it certainly could not be trusted out of my hands, it ought to be conveyed by me.

      I looked at the note-books. Nearly two hours' work had made a considerable impression on the matter that I had to transcribe, but still, a great deal of the task yet remained to be done. However, I reflected, I could put in a couple of hours more before going to bed and there would be an hour or two to spare in the morning. Finally I locked the note-books, open as they were, in the writing-table drawer, and slipping the envelope into my pocket, set out for the Temple.

      The soft chime of the Treasury clock was telling out, in confidential tones, the third quarter as I wrapped with my stick on the forbidding "oak" of my friends' chambers. There was no response, nor had I perceived any gleam of light from the windows as I approached, and I was considering the advisability of trying the laboratory on the next floor, when footsteps on the stone stairs and familiar voices gladdened my ear.

      "Hallo, Berkeley!" said Thorndyke, "do we find you waiting like a Peri at the gates of Paradise? Polton is upstairs, you know, tinkering at one of his inventions. If you ever find the nest empty, you had better go up and bang at the laboratory door. He's always there in the evenings."

      "I haven't been waiting long," said I, "and I was just thinking of rousing him up when you came."

      "That was right," said Thorndyke, turning up the gas. "And what news do you bring? Do I see a blue envelope sticking out of your pocket?"

      "You do."

      "Is it a copy of the will?" he asked.

      I answered "yes," and added that I had full permission to show it to him.

      "What did I tell you?" exclaimed Jervis. "Didn't I say that he would get the copy for us if it existed?"

      "We admit the excellence of your prognosis," said Thorndyke, "but there is no need to be boastful. Have you read through the document, Berkeley?"

      "No, I haven't taken it out of the envelope."

      "Then it will be equally new to us all, and we shall see if it tallies with your description."

      He placed three easy chairs at a convenient distance from the light, and Jervis, watching him with a smile, remarked:

      "Now Thorndyke is going to enjoy himself. To him, a perfectly unintelligible will is a thing of beauty and a joy for ever; especially if associated with some kind of recondite knavery."

      "I don't know," said I, "that this will is particularly unintelligible. The mischief seems to be that it is rather too intelligible. However, here it is," and I handed the envelope to Thorndyke.

      "I suppose that we can depend on this copy," said the latter, as he drew out the document and glanced at it. "Oh, yes," he added, "I see it is copied by Godfrey Bellingham, compared with the original and certified correct. In that case I will get you to read it out slowly, Jervis, and I will make a rough copy to keep for reference. Let us make ourselves comfortable and light our pipes before we begin."

      He provided himself with a writing-pad, and, when we had seated ourselves and got our pipes well alight, Jervis opened the document, and with a premonitory "hem!" commenced the reading.

      "In the name of God Amen. This is the last will and testament of me John Bellingham of number 141 Queen Square in the parish of St. George Bloomsbury London in the county of Middlesex Gentleman made this twenty first day of September in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and ninety-two.

      "1. I give and bequeath unto Arthur Jellicoe of number 184 New Square Lincoln's Inn London in the county of Middlesex Attorney-at-law the whole of my collection of seals and scarabs and those my cabinets marked B, C, and D together with the contents thereof and the sum of two thousand pounds sterling free of legacy duty.

      "Unto the Trustees of the British Museum the residue of my collection of antiquities.

      "Unto my cousin George Hurst of The Poplars Eltham in the county of Kent the sum of five thousand pounds free of legacy duty and unto my brother Godfrey Bellingham or if he should die before the occurrence of my death unto his daughter Ruth Bellingham the residue of my estate and effects real and personal subject to the conditions set forth hereinafter namely:

      "2. That my body shall be deposited with those of my ancestors in the churchyard appertaining to the church and parish of St. George the Martyr or if that shall not be possible, in some other churchyard, cemetery, burial ground, church, chapel or other authorised place for the reception of the bodies of the dead situate within or appertaining to the parishes of St. Andrew above the Bars and St. George the Martyr or St. George Bloomsbury and St. Giles in the Fields. But if the conditions in this clause be not carried out then

      "3. I give and devise the said residue of my estate and effects unto my cousin George Hurst aforesaid and I hereby revoke all wills and codicils made by me at any time heretofore and I appoint Arthur Jellicoe aforesaid to be the executor of this my will jointly with the principal beneficiary and residuary legatee that is to say with the aforesaid Godfrey Bellingham if the conditions set forth hereinbefore in clause 2 shall be duly carried out but with the aforesaid George Hurst if the said conditions in the said clause 2 be not carried out.

      "JOHN BELLINGHAM.

      "Signed by the said testator John Bellingham in the presence of us present at the same time who at his request and in his presence and in the presence of each other have subscribed our names as witnesses.

      "Frederick Wilton, 16 Medford Road, London, N., clerk.

      "James Barker, 32 Wadbury Crescent, London, S.W., clerk."

      "Well," said Jervis, laying down the document as Thorndyke detached the last sheet from his writing-pad, "I have met with a good many idiotic wills, but this one can give them all points. I don't see how it is ever going to be administered. One of the two executors is a mere abstraction—a sort of algebraical problem with no answer."

      "I think that difficulty could be overcome," said Thorndyke.

      "I don't see how," retorted Jervis. "If the body is deposited in a certain place, A is the executor; if it is somewhere else, B is the executor. But, as you cannot produce the body, and no one has the least idea where it is, it is impossible to prove either that it is or that it is not in any specified place."

      "You