“It’s quite true, sir,” said Polton, smiling and unabashed, “so it’s no use denying it.  I have come to ask what we are going to take with us to the court.”

“You will find a box and a portfolio on the table in my room,” replied Thorndyke.  “We had better also take a microscope and the micrometers, though we are not likely to want them; that is all, I think.”

“A box and a portfolio,” repeated Polton in a speculative tone.  “Yes, sir, I will take them with me.”  He opened the door and was about to pass out, when, perceiving a visitor ascending the stairs, he turned back.

“Here’s Mr. Miller, from Scotland Yard, sir; shall I show him in?”

“Yes, do.”  He rose from his chair as a tall, military-looking man entered the room and saluted, casting, at the same time, an inquiring glance in my direction.

“Good morning, Doctor,” he said briskly.  “I got your letter and couldn’t make such of it, but I have brought down a couple of plain-clothes men and a uniform man, as you suggested.  I understand you want a house watched?”

“Yes, and a man, too.  I will give you the particulars presently—­that is, if you think you can agree to my conditions.”

“That I act entirely on my own account and make no communication to anybody?  Well, of course, I would rather you gave me all the facts and let me proceed in the regular way; but if you make conditions I have no choice but to accept them, seeing that you hold the cards.”

Perceiving that the matter in hand was of a confidential nature, I thought it best to take my departure, which I accordingly did, as soon as I had ascertained that it wanted yet half-an-hour to the time at which Mrs. Hornby and Juliet were due at the lawyer’s office.

Mr. Lawley received me with stiffness that bordered on hostility.  He was evidently deeply offended at the subordinate part that he had been compelled to play in the case, and was at no great pains to conceal the fact.

“I am informed,” said he, in a frosty tone, when I had explained my mission, “that Mrs. Hornby and Miss Gibson are to meet you here.  The arrangement is none of my making; none of the arrangements in this case are of my making.  I have been treated throughout with a lack of ceremony and confidence that is positively scandalous.  Even now, I—­the solicitor for the defence—­am completely in the dark as to what defence is contemplated, though I fully expect to be involved in some ridiculous fiasco.  I only trust that I may never again be associated with any of your hybrid practitioners. Ne sutor ultra crepidam, sir, is an excellent motto; let the medical cobbler stick to his medical last.”

“It remains to be seen what kind of boot he can turn out on the legal last,” I retorted.

“That is so,” he rejoined; “but I hear Mrs. Hornby’s voice in the outer office, and as neither you nor I have any time to waste in idle talk, I suggest that you make your way to the court without delay.  I wish you good morning!”