. . Yes, I'll give you a glimpse of
it by and by. It involves--or may involve--the cutting of all human
ties--that is of all but one. Well, as you know, I haven't many, and
those clients of Farrell's have lightened me of worldly furniture.
What's become of Farrell, by the way?"

"He's retiring from the contest, and has been advised to travel for
the good of his health. The Sunday papers settled it with their
reports of the Police Court proceedings. . . . What! Haven't you
heard?"

"Now I come to think of it, Travers tried to tell me some story . . .
but I wasn't listening. . . . In trouble, is he? Good. Not going to
hang him, are they? Good."

"The actual decision," said I, "was taken at the Whips' Office
yesterday morning. Farrell goes. There's just time to put up a
working-man candidate in his stead. But the seat's lost."

"Good," repeated Jack tranquilly. "Eh? . . . Oh, I beg your pardon,
Roddy: I was looking at it from--well, from a different angle. . . .
Let's get back to my plan. Wasn't it Huck Finn who wished it were
possible to die temporarily? That's what I'm going to do, anyhow:
and I want you to be my executor."

"I should need an inventory of your worldly goods, to start with,"
said I gravely.

"Drew it up, Sunday night. . . . Where's my coat? . . . here, catch!"
He pulled out a long legal envelope, well stuffed, and threw it
across to me. "Don't open it now. When you do, you'll find
everything in order. I've a habit of neatness with my worldly
affairs."

"All very well," said I. "But you'll have to tell a lot more before
I commit myself. And, anyhow, things can't be done in this easy way.
You'll have to see a solicitor and get me power of attorney or
something of the sort--"

"Look here," he interrupted; "I thought it was understood that I'd
come to you for _help_. Power of attorney? Bosh! Not going to
commit yourself? Why, man, you're committed! The cheque's drawn and
paid into your account at Hoare's. . . . I did it yesterday--caught
'em just before closing-time. You'll be hearing in a post or so.
They have all the bonds too, and my written instructions. . . . I
bank there, too, you know."

"Heaven alive!" said I, with a gasp. "Are you telling me you've
chucked all you possess into my account?"

"Why not?" he demanded. "Oh, you can make me out an I O U some time,
and get Jimmy to witness it, if you're so damned--what's the word?--
punctilious. If you can't do me t