n-trade of the
wig-maker's shop in the cloisters of the Inner Temple, whither I strayed
on a sultry afternoon in quest of shade and quiet. I had halted opposite
the little shop window, and, with my eyes bent dreamily on the row of
wigs, was pursuing the above train of thought when I was startled by a
deep voice saying softly in my ear: "I'd have the full-bottomed one if I
were you."

I turned swiftly and rather fiercely, and looked into the face of my old
friend and fellow student, Jervis; behind whom, regarding us with a
sedate smile, stood my former teacher, Dr. John Thorndyke. Both men
greeted me with a warmth that I felt to be very flattering, for Thorndyke
was quite a great personage, and even Jervis was several years my
academic senior.

"You are coming in to have a cup of tea with us, I hope," said Thorndyke;
and as I assented gladly, he took my arm and led me across the court in
the direction of the Treasury.

"But why that hungry gaze at those forensic vanities, Berkeley?" he
asked. "Are you thinking of following my example and Jervis's--deserting
the bedside for the Bar?"

"What! Has Jervis gone in for the law?" I exclaimed.

"Bless you, yes!" replied Jervis. "I have become parasitical on
Thorndyke! 'The big fleas have little fleas,' you know. I am the
additional fraction trailing after the whole number in the rear of a
decimal point."

"Don't you believe him, Berkeley," interposed Thorndyke. "He is the
brains of the firm. I supply the respectability and moral worth. But
you haven't answered my question. What are you doing here on a summer
afternoon staring into a wig-maker's window?"

"I am Barnard's locum; he is in practise in Fetter Lane."

"I know," said Thorndyke; "we meet him occasionally, and very pale and
peaky he has been looking of late. Is he taking a holiday?"

"Yes. He has gone for a trip to the Isles of Greece in a currant ship."

"Then," said Jervis, "you are actually a local G.P. I thought you were
looking beastly respectable."

"And judging from your leisured manner when we encountered you," added
Thorndyke, "the practise is not a strenuous one. I suppose it is
entirely local?"

"Yes," I replied. "The patients mostly live in the small streets and
courts within a half-mile radius of the surgery, and the abodes of some
of them are pretty squalid. Oh! and that reminds me of a very strange
coincidence. It will interest you, I think."

"Life is made up of strange