dame was borne up the steps in her gilded chair,
in the days of good Queen Anne.

It was in a somewhat sobered frame of mind that we presently turned
away and started homeward by way of Great Ormond Street. My companion
was deeply thoughtful, relapsing for a while into that somberness of
manner that had so impressed me when I first met her. Nor was I
without a certain sympathetic pensiveness; as if, from the great,
silent house, the spirit of the vanished man had issued forth to bear
us company.

But still it was a delightful walk, and I was sorry when at last we
arrived at the entrance to Nevill's Court, and Miss Bellingham halted
and held out her hand.

"Good-by," she said; "and many, many thanks for your invaluable help.
Shall I take the bag?"

"If you want it. But I must take out the notebooks."

"Why must you take them?" she asked.

"Why, haven't I got to copy the notes out into long-hand?"

An expression of utter consternation spread over her face; in fact, she
was so completely taken aback that she forgot to release my hand.

"Heavens!" she exclaimed. "How idiotic of me! But it is impossible,
Doctor Berkeley! It will take you hours!"

"It is perfectly possible, and it is going to be done; otherwise the
notes would be useless. Do you want the bag?"

"No, of course not. But I am positively appalled. Hadn't you better
give up the idea?"

"And this is the end of our collaboration?" I exclaimed tragically,
giving her hand a final squeeze (whereby she became suddenly aware of
its position, and withdrew it rather hastily). "Would you throw away a
whole afternoon's work? I won't certainly; so, good-by until
to-morrow. I shall turn up in the reading-room as early as I can. You
had better take the tickets. Oh, and you won't forget about the copy
of the will for Doctor Thorndyke, will you?"

"No; if my father agrees, you shall have it this evening."

She took the tickets from me, and, thanking me yet again, retired into
the court.

CHAPTER VII

JOHN BELLINGHAM'S WILL

The task upon which I had embarked so light-heartedly, when considered
in cold blood, did certainly appear, as Miss Bellingham had said,
rather appalling. The result of two and a half hours' pretty steady
work at an average speed of nearly a hundred words a minute, would take
some time to transcribe into longhand; and if the notes were to be
delivered punctually on the morrow, the sooner I got to work the better.

Re