cognizing this truth, I lost no time, but, within five minutes of my
arrival at the surgery, was seated at the writing-table with my copy
before me busily converting the sprawling, inexpressive characters into
good, legible round-hand.

The occupation was by no means unpleasant, apart from the fact that it
was a labor of love; for the sentences, as I picked them up, were
fragrant with the reminiscences of the gracious whisper in which they
had first come to me. And then the matter itself was full of interest.
I was gaining a fresh outlook on life, was crossing the threshold of a
new world (which was her world); and so the occasional interruptions
from the patients, while they gave me intervals of enforced rest, were
far from welcome.

The evening wore on without any sign from Nevill's Court, and I began
to fear that Mr. Bellingham's scruples had proved insurmountable. Not,
I am afraid, that I was so much concerned for the copy of the will as
for the possibility of a visit, no matter howsoever brief, from my fair
employer; and when, on the stroke of half-past seven, the surgery door
flew open with startling abruptness, my fears were allayed and my hopes
shattered simultaneously. For it was Miss Oman who stalked in, holding
out a blue foolscap envelope with a warlike air as if it were an
ultimatum.

"I've brought you this from Mr. Bellingham," she said. "There's a note
inside."

"May I read the note, Miss Oman?" I asked.

"Bless the man!" she exclaimed. "What else would you do with it?
Isn't that what it's brought for?"

I supposed it was; and, thanking her for her gracious permission, I
glanced through the note--a few lines authorizing me 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
notebooks, 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 Dr. Watts?"

"If you are referring to 'idle hands,'" she replied, "I'll give you a
bit of advice. Don't you keep that hand id