the
change is not so great as you think. Hippocrates is only hiding under
the gown of Solon, as you will understand when I explain my
metamorphosis; and that I will do this very evening, if you have no
engagement."

"I am one of the unemployed at present," I said, "and quite at your
service."

"Then come round to my chambers at seven," said Thorndyke, "and we will
have a chop and a pint of claret together and exchange autobiographies.
I am due in court in a few minutes."

"Do you reside within that noble old portico?" I asked.

"No," replied Thorndyke. "I often wish I did. It would add several
inches to one's stature to feel that the mouth of one's burrow was
graced with a Latin inscription for admiring strangers to ponder over.
No; my chambers are some doors further down--number 6A"--and he turned
to point out the house as we crossed towards Crown Office Row.

At the top of Middle Temple Lane we parted, Thorndyke taking his way
with fluttering gown towards the Law Courts, while I directed my steps
westward towards Adam Street, the chosen haunt of the medical agent.

The soft-voiced bell of the Temple clock was telling out the hour of
seven in muffled accents (as though it apologised for breaking the
studious silence) as I emerged from the archway of Mitre Court and
turned into King's Bench Walk.

The paved footway was empty save for a single figure, pacing slowly
before the doorway of number 6A, in which, though the wig had now given
place to a felt hat and the gown to a jacket, I had no difficulty in
recognising my friend.

"Punctual to the moment, as of old," said he, meeting me half-way. "What
a blessed virtue is punctuality, even in small things. I have just been
taking the air in Fountain Court, and will now introduce you to my
chambers. Here is my humble retreat."

We passed in through the common entrance and ascended the stone stairs
to the first floor, where we were confronted by a massive door, above
which my friend's name was written in white letters. "Rather a
forbidding exterior," remarked Thorndyke, as he inserted the latchkey,
"but it is homely enough inside."

The heavy door swung outwards and disclosed a baize-covered inner door,
which Thorndyke pushed open and held for me to pass in.

"You will find my chambers an odd mixture," said Thorndyke, "for they
combine the attractions of an office, a museum, a laboratory and a
workshop."

"And a restaurant," added a small, elderly man, who wa