“Do you think he will apply to the Court without your sanction?”

“He doesn’t want to; but I suppose, if Hurst puts pressure on him, he will have to.  Besides, Hurst, as an interested party, could apply on his own account, and after my refusal he probably will; at least, that is Jellicoe’s opinion.”

“The whole thing is a most astonishing muddle,” I said, “especially when one remembers that your brother had a lawyer to advise him.  Didn’t Mr. Jellicoe point out to him how absurd the provisions were?”

“Yes, he did.  He tells me that he implored my brother to let him draw up a will embodying the matter in a reasonable form.  But John wouldn’t listen to him.  Poor old fellow! he could be very pig-headed when he chose.”

“And is Hurst’s proposal still open?”

“No, thanks to my peppery temper.  I refused it very definitely, and sent him off with a flea in his ear.  I hope I have not made a false step; I was quite taken by surprise when Hurst made the proposal and got rather angry.  You remember, my brother was last seen alive at Hurst’s house—­but there, I oughtn’t to talk like that, and I oughtn’t to pester you with my confounded affairs when you have come in for a friendly chat, though I gave you fair warning, you remember.”

“Oh, but you have been highly entertaining.  You don’t realise what an interest I take in your case.”

Mr. Bellingham laughed somewhat grimly.  “My case!” he repeated.  “You speak as if I were some rare and curious sort of criminal lunatic.  However, I’m glad you find me amusing.  It’s more than I find myself.”

“I didn’t say amusing; I said interesting.  I view you with deep respect as the central figure of a stirring drama.  And I am not the only person who regards you in that light.  Do you remember my speaking to you of Doctor Thorndyke?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Well, oddly enough, I met him this afternoon and we had a long talk at his chambers.  I took the liberty of mentioning that I had made your acquaintance.  Did I do wrong?”

“No.  Certainly not.  Why shouldn’t you tell him?  Did he remember my infernal case, as you call it?”

“Perfectly, in all its details.  He is quite an enthusiast, you know, and uncommonly keen to hear how the case develops.”

“So am I, for that matter,” said Mr. Bellingham.

“I wonder,” said I, “if you would mind my telling him what you have told me to-night.  It would interest him enormously.”

Mr. Bellingham reflected awhile with his eyes fixed on the empty grate.  Presently he looked up, and said slowly: 

“I don’t know why I should.  It’s no secret; and if it were, I hold no monopoly in it.  No; tell him, if you think he’d care to hear about it.”

“You needn’t be afraid of his talking,” I said.  “He is as close as an oyster; and the facts may mean more to him than to us.  He may be able to give a useful hint or two.”