th a quick, significant glance at me, he walked into the office,
whither I followed in some bewilderment, for I knew that we had no
engagements for the evening.

"Now, Jervis," said Thorndyke, as he closed the office door, "what are
we to do?"

"We must go, I suppose," I replied. "It seems a pretty urgent case."

"It does," he agreed. "Of course, the man may be telling the truth,
after all."

"You don't think he is, then?"

"No. It is a plausible tale, but there is too much arsenic in that
arrowroot. Still, I think I ought to go. It is an ordinary professional
risk. But there is no reason why you should put your head into the
noose."

"Thank you," said I, somewhat huffily. "I don't see what risk there is,
but if any exists I claim the right to share it."

"Very well," he answered with a smile, "we will both go. I think we can
take care of ourselves."

He re-entered the sitting-room, and announced his decision to Mr.
Barton, whose relief and gratitude were quite pathetic.

"But," said Thorndyke, "you have not yet told us where your brother
lives."

"Rexford," was the reply--"Rexford, in Essex. It is an out-of-the-way
place, but if we catch the seven-fifteen train from Liverpool Street, we
shall be there in an hour and a half."

"And as to the return? You know the trains, I suppose?"

"Oh yes," replied our client; "I will see that you don't miss your
train back."

"Then I will be with you in a minute," said Thorndyke; and, taking the
still-bubbling flask, he retired to the laboratory, whence he returned
in a few minutes carrying his hat and overcoat.

The cab which had brought our client was still waiting, and we were soon
rattling through the streets towards the station, where we arrived in
time to furnish ourselves with dinner-baskets and select our compartment
at leisure.

During the early part of the journey our companion was in excellent
spirits. He despatched the cold fowl from the basket and quaffed the
rather indifferent claret with as much relish as if he had not had a
single relation in the world, and after dinner he became genial to the
verge of hilarity. But, as time went on, there crept into his manner a
certain anxious restlessness. He became silent and preoccupied, and
several times furtively consulted his watch.

"The train is confoundedly late!" he exclaimed irritably. "Seven minutes
behind time already!"

"A few minutes more or less are not of much consequence," said
Thorndyke.