“He can’t afford either the one or the other,” said I.  “He’s as poor as an insolvent church mouse and as proud as the devil.  He wouldn’t accept professional aid that he couldn’t pay for.”

“H’m,” grunted Thorndyke, “that’s awkward.  But we can’t allow the case to go ‘by default,’ so to speak—­to fail for the mere lack of technical assistance.  Besides, it is one of the most interesting cases that I have ever met with, and I am not going to see it bungled.  He couldn’t object to a little general advice in a friendly, informal way—­amicus curiae, as old Brodribb is so fond of saying; and there is nothing to prevent us from pushing forward the preliminary inquiries.”

“Of what nature would they be?”

“Well, to begin with, we have to satisfy ourselves that the conditions of clause two have not been complied with:  that John Bellingham has not been buried within the parish boundaries mentioned.  Of course he has not, but we must not take anything for granted.  Then we have to satisfy ourselves that he is not still alive and accessible.  It is perfectly possible that he is, after all, and it is our business to trace him, if he is still in the land of the living.  Jervis and I can carry out these investigations without saying anything to Bellingham; my learned brother will look through the register of burials—­not forgetting the cremations—­in the metropolitan area, and I will take the other matter in hand.”

“You really think that John Bellingham may still be alive?” said I.

“Since his body has not been found, it is obviously a possibility.  I think it in the highest degree improbable, but the improbable has to be investigated before it can be excluded.”

“It sounds like a rather hopeless quest,” I remarked.  “How do you propose to begin?”

“I think of beginning at the British Museum.  The people there may be able to throw some light on his movements.  I know that there are some important excavations in progress at Heliopolis—­in fact, the Director of the Egyptian Department is out there at the present moment; and Doctor Norbury, who is taking his place temporarily, is an old friend of John Bellingham’s.  I shall call on him and try to discover if there is anything that might have induced Bellingham suddenly to go abroad—­to Heliopolis, for instance.  Also, he may be able to tell me what it was that took the missing man to Paris on that last, rather mysterious journey.  That might turn out to be an important clue.  And meanwhile, Berkeley, you must endeavour tactfully to reconcile your friend to the idea of letting us give an eye to the case.  Make it clear to him that I am doing this entirely for the enlargement of my own knowledge.”

“But won’t you have to be instructed by a solicitor?” I asked.

“Yes, of course, nominally; but only as a matter of etiquette.  We shall do all the actual work.  Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking of the solicitor’s costs, and I was going to mention that I have a little money of my own—­”