int, but to most tastes would scarcely be called
inviting. Bottles of all shapes and sizes loaded the shelves, mingled
with jars and vases from China, Delft ware from Holland and plates and
dishes from France, which Dr. Mountchance swore were the handiwork of
Palissy, the famous artist-potter. Everything had a thick coating of
dust. Dried skins of birds, animals and hideous reptiles hung from the
walls and ceiling; a couple of skulls grinned mockingly above a doorway
leading into a little room at the rear, and it was difficult to steer
one's way between the old furniture, the iron bound coffers and
miscellaneous articles which crowded the shop.

In the room behind, chemical apparatus of strange construction was on
one table; packets of herbs were on another; a huge tome lay opened on
the floor, and books were piled on the chairs. The apartment was a
mixture of a laboratory and lumber room. A furnace was in one corner,
retorts, test tubes, crucibles, a huge pestle and mortar, jars, bottles
were on a bench close handy.

The room was lighted by a window projecting over the Thames, and the
roar of the river rushing through the narrow arches and swirling and
dashing against the stone work never ceased, though it varied in
violence according to wind and tide. The house was a portion of the old
chapel of St. Thomas, long since converted from ecclesiastical
observances to commercial uses.

Dr. Mountchance, who at this moment was at a table in the centre
examining a silver flagon and muttering comments upon it, was a little
man about seventy, with an enormous head and a spare body and short
legs. His face was wrinkled like a piece of wet shrivelled silk and his
skin was the colour of parchment. His eyes, very small and deep-set,
were surmounted by heavy brows once black, now of an iron grey. His
mouth was of prodigious width, the lips thin and straight and his nose
long, narrow and pointed. He wore a dirty wig which was always awry, a
faded mulberry coloured coat, and a frayed velvet waistcoat reaching
halfway down his thighs. His stockings were dirty and hung in bags about
his ankles, his feet were cased in yellow slippers more than half worn
out.

Dr. Mountchance's hearing was keen. A footfall in the shop, soft as it
was, caused him to look up. He saw a slight girlish figure, her cloak
pulled tightly about her, a pair of bright eyes peering from beneath the
hood.

The old man gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. Many of his