e you make such a pother of granting them.
Stay--you might witness my will here, to which I am about to affix my
signature."

"With pleasure," said I. "But who is to be the other witness?
The law requires two, you know."

"Confound it--so it does! I had forgotten. We might ring up the
Boots, eh?"

"Better avoid dragging the servants of the hotel into this business,
especially if you would keep your intention secret. How about
Gumbo?"

"He's black, to begin with, and moreover he benefits under the
document to the extent of a small legacy."

"That rules him out, at any rate. Ha!" I exclaimed, glancing out of
window, "the very man!"

"Who?"

"An excellent fellow at this moment crossing the gardens towards the
Mall--he is early this morning; a discreet, solid citizen, and able
to keep his counsel as well as any man in the Hotwells; our leading
jeweller, Mr. Jenkinson."

I turned sharply, for the Major had sunk into his chair with a groan.

"Jenkinson!" he gasped. "Jenkinson! The man's insatiable--he has
been watching the hotel in his lust for blood! He threatened last
night to cut my liver out and give it to the crows--my unfortunate
liver on which you, doctor, have wasted so much solicitude. He used
the most extraordinary language--not," the Major added, gripping the
arms of his chair and sitting erect, "not that he shall find me slow
in answering his threats."

"My dear Major," I cried, "under what delusion are you labouring?
Mr. Jenkinson, believe me, is incapable of hurting a fly. You must
have mistaken your man. Come and see him for yourself." And drawing
him to the window, I pointed after the figure of the retreating
jeweller.

The Major's brow cleared. "No," he admitted, "that is not in the
least like him. Still, he gave me his name as Jenkinson.
Oh! decidedly that is not the man."

"The name is not uncommon," said I. "Excuse me, I must hurry, or he
will be out of sight!" And I ran downstairs and out into the street
as Mr. Jenkinson disappeared around the corner. Following briskly, I
brought him into sight again a moment before he turned aside into a
small tavern--'The Lamb and the Flag'--half-way down the Mall.

Now 'The Lamb and the Flag' enjoyed a low reputation, and for a
citizen of ordinary respectability to be seen entering it at that
hour--well, it invited surmise. But I knew Mr. Jenkinson to be above
suspicion; he might be the ground-landlord--I had heard of his
purchasing