There was a peculiar glitter in his eyes that at first alarmed and then encouraged his companion.

    'Will you have a liqueur?' he asked suddenly.

    Anthony nodded.

    'I should like you to meet my lawyer: he is a man after your own heart, a shrewd man of the world, a little suspicious, but I don't think that any harm in a lawyer. You probably know the firm, Whipplewhite, Summers and Soames.'

    Anthony nodded. He had never heard of a firm of lawyers called Whipplewhite, Summers and Soames, but it sounded very much like a firm of lawyers. He knew there was a firm called Bennett, Wilson, Moss, Bennett and Wilson, and he had heard of another firm called Jones, Higgins, Marsh, Walter, Johnson, dark and Higgins, and he was quite prepared to accept so simple a thing as a triple alliance.

    Mr Frenchan looked at his watch.

    'I wonder if I could catch him?' he said. 'You'd be delighted with him. A dour Scotsman, mind you, but a man with a heart of gold. He looks upon everybody as a potential criminal.' He chuckled to himself, and shook his head. 'I don't know that that is a bad thing in a lawyer,' he reflected.

    'It is a very excellent quality, and very much resembles the attitude of my own solicitor towards humanity,' said Anthony sedately. 'After all, lawyers are cautious souls, and the first element of caution is suspicion.'

    Mr Frenchan got up.

    'Come along. Let us see if we can find him. He is usually to be run to earth in the neighbourhood of the Law Courts about this time and I'd like you to meet him.'

    The reception clerk, who looked at him with pleading eyes as he passed, Anthony ignored. It was not desirable that the sordid question of deposits should be mentioned before his opulent friend.

    Mr Frenchan called a cab, and they drove down the Strand, halting at the broad entrance of the Royal Courts of Justice.

    'Here he is!' cried Mr Frenchan. 'What a bit of luck!'

    A thin, cadaverous man, wearing a worried look and a black homburg, was standing on the steps of the Courts in a meditative attitude. He had an expression of profound melancholy and nodded curtly to Mr Frenchan. It was easy to imagine that he regarded the world as a sinful place. He reviewed the throng that hurried past the gates with the basilisk glare of a thwarted executioner.

    'I want you to meet my friend Newton, Whipplewhite,' said Frenchan, and the lawyer extended a cold hand. 'Can you come along somewhere? I want to have a talk.'

    Mr Whipplewhite shook his sad head.

    'I am afraid I can't,' he said shortly. 'I have a case in Court No. 6 in half an hour.'

    'Rubbish!' said Mr Frenchan loudly. 'You've got a counsel or whatever you call the fellow, haven't you? Come along.'

    Still Mr Whipplewhite was reluctant. 'I'd much rather not,' he said, and looked at his watch. 'I can spare you five minutes, but I can't go very far from the Court.'

    'We'll find a teashop, somewhere; a cup of tea won't hurt us, eh, Mr Newton?'

    Anything to eat or drink would have hurt Anthony very much at that moment, but he acquiesced, and in a dimly lighted, pokey little teashop, to which the grumbling Mr Whipplewhite led them, Anthony's introduction was continued.

    'This is a young gentleman I knew very well in South Africa. Newton—you've heard me speak of him.'

    Anthony was still considerably puzzled. That he was being mistaken for somebody else, he had no doubt, but he was patient. The problem of lunch had been settled, dinner seemed a certainty, although he had less inclination for food than he had had for a long time. On one matter he was perfectly satisfied; he would have to produce large and pretentious quantities of baggage before the sloe-eyed reception clerk would hand him the key of his suite. That was a fact. Mr Frenchan was a potential host—though he would not have guessed it.

    'By the way, Frenchan, I've taken probate of your brother's will. The net personalty is not six hundred and forty thousand, but five hundred and twelve, six and nine-pence.'

    Mr Frenchan made a snarling noise.

    'I wish it were six and ninepence,' he said savagely, and the lawyer grunted impatiently. 'I know you think I'm daft,' Mr Frenchan went on, 'but Walter and I were very good pals and, eccentric though his wishes are I intend carrying them out.'

    'Why not hand the money over to the church and let them dispose of it?' suggested the lawyer.