The Vanishing Man Part 7

"Yes, by Jove! there are. Bellingham gave me a full and detailed description of the will; and a pretty doc.u.ment it seems to be."

"Did he give you permission to repeat the details to me?"

"Yes. I asked specifically if I might and he had no objection whatever."

"Good. We are lunching at Soho to-day as Polton has his hands full. Come with us and share our table and tell us your story as we go. Will that suit you?"

It suited me admirably in the present state of the practice, and I accepted the invitation with undissembled glee.

"Very well," said Thornd.y.k.e; "then let us walk slowly and finish with matters confidential before we plunge into the madding crowd."

We set forth at a leisurely pace along the broad pavement and I commenced my narration. As well as I could remember, I related the circ.u.mstances that had led up to the present disposition of the property and then proceeded to the actual provisions of the will; to all of which my two friends listened with rapt interest, Thornd.y.k.e occasionally stopping me to jot down a memorandum in his pocket-book.

"Why, the fellow must have been a stark lunatic!" Jervis exclaimed, when I had finished. "He seems to have laid himself out with the most devilish ingenuity to defeat his own ends."

"That is not an uncommon peculiarity with testators," Thornd.y.k.e remarked. "A direct and perfectly intelligible will is rather the exception. But we can hardly judge until we have seen the actual doc.u.ment. I suppose Bellingham hasn't a copy?"

"I don't know," said I; "but I will ask him."

"If he has one, I should like to look through it," said Thornd.y.k.e. "The provisions are very peculiar, and, as Jervis says, admirably calculated to defeat the testator's wishes if they have been correctly reported.

And, apart from that, they have a remarkable bearing on the circ.u.mstances of the disappearance. I daresay you noticed that."

"I noticed that it is very much to Hurst's advantage that the body has not been found."

"Yes, of course. But there are some other points that are very significant. However, it would be premature to discuss the terms of the will until we have seen the actual doc.u.ment or a certified copy."

"If there is a copy extant," I said, "I will try to get hold of it.

Bellingham is terribly afraid of being suspected of a desire to get professional advice gratis."

"That," said Thornd.y.k.e, "is natural enough, and not discreditable. But you must overcome his scruples somehow. I expect you will be able to.

You are a plausible young gentleman, as I remember of old, and you seem to have established yourself as quite the friend of the family."

"They are rather interesting people," I explained; "very cultivated and with a strong leaning towards archaeology. It seems to be in the blood."

"Yes," said Thornd.y.k.e; "a family tendency, probably due to contact and common surroundings rather than heredity. So you like G.o.dfrey Bellingham?"

"Yes. He is a trifle peppery and impulsive, but quite an agreeable, genial old buffer."

"And the daughter," said Jervis, "what is she like?"

"Oh, she is a learned lady; works up bibliographies and references at the Museum."

"Ah!" Jervis exclaimed, with deep disfavour, "I know the breed. Inky fingers; no chest to speak of; all side and spectacles."

I rose artlessly at the gross and palpable bait.

"You're quite wrong," I exclaimed indignantly, contrasting Jervis's hideous presentment with the comely original. "She is an exceedingly good-looking girl, and her manners all that a lady's should be. A little stiff, perhaps, but then I am only an acquaintance--almost a stranger."

"But," Jervis persisted, "what is she like, in appearance I mean. Short?

fat? sandy? Give us intelligible details."

I made a rapid mental inventory, a.s.sisted by my recent cogitations.

"She is about five feet seven, slim but rather plump, very erect in carriage and graceful in movements; black hair, loosely parted in the middle and falling very prettily away from the forehead; pale, clear complexion, dark grey eyes, straight eyebrows, straight, well-shaped nose, short mouth, rather full; round chin--what the deuce are you grinning at, Jervis?" For my friend had suddenly unmasked his batteries and now threatened, like the Ches.h.i.+re Cat, to dissolve into a mere abstraction of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"If there is a copy of that will, Thornd.y.k.e," he said, "we shall get it.

I think you agree with me, reverend senior?"

"I have already said," was the reply, "that I put my trust in Berkeley.

And now let us dismiss professional topics. This is our hostelry."

He pushed open an unpretentious glazed door and we followed him into the restaurant, whereof the atmosphere was pervaded by an appetising meatiness mingled with less agreeable suggestions of the destructive distillation of fat.

It was some two hours later when I wished my friends adieu under the golden-leaved plane trees of King's Bench Walk.

"I won't ask you to come in now," said Thornd.y.k.e, "as we have some consultations this afternoon. But come in and see us soon; don't wait for that copy of the will."

"No," said Jervis. "Drop in in the evening when your work is done; unless, of course, there is more attractive society elsewhere--Oh, you needn't turn that colour, my dear child; we have all been young once; there is even a tradition that Thornd.y.k.e was young some time back in the pre-dynastic period."

"Don't take any notice of him, Berkeley," said Thornd.y.k.e. "The egg-sh.e.l.l is sticking to his head still. He'll know better when he is my age."

"Methuselah!" exclaimed Jervis; "I hope I shan't have to wait as long as that!"

Thornd.y.k.e smiled benevolently at his irrepressible junior, and, shaking my hand cordially, turned into the entry.

From the Temple I wended northward to the adjacent College of Surgeons, where I spent a couple of profitable hours examining the "pickles," and refres.h.i.+ng my memory on the subjects of pathology and anatomy; marvelling afresh (as every practical anatomist must marvel) at the incredibly perfect technique of the dissections, and inwardly paying a respectful tribute to the founder of the collection. At length, the warning of the clock, combined with an increasing craving for tea, drove me forth and bore me towards the scene of my, not very strenuous, labours. My mind was still occupied with the contents of the cases and the great gla.s.s jars, so that I found myself at the corner of Fetter Lane without a very clear idea of how I had got there. But at that point I was aroused from my reflections rather abruptly by a raucous voice in my ear.

"'Orrible discovery at Sidcup!"

I turned wrathfully--for a London street-boy's yell, let off at point-blank range, is, in effect, like the smack of an open hand--but the inscription on the staring yellow poster that was held up for my inspection changed my anger into curiosity.

"Horrible discovery in a watercress-bed!"

Now, let, prigs deny it if they will, but there is something very attractive in a "horrible discovery." It hints at tragedy, at mystery, at romance. It promises to bring into our grey and commonplace life that element of the dramatic which is the salt that our existence is savoured withal. "In a watercress-bed," too! The rusticity of the background seemed to emphasise the horror of the discovery, whatever it might be.

I bought a copy of the paper, and, tucking it under my arm, hurried on to the surgery, promising myself a mental feast of watercress; but as I opened the door I found myself confronted by a corpulent woman of piebald and pimply aspect who saluted me with a deep groan. It was the lady from the coal shop in Fleur-de-Lys Court.

"Good evening, Mrs. Jablett," I said briskly; "not come about yourself, I hope."

"Yes, I have," she answered, rising and following me gloomily into the consulting-room; and then, when I had seated her in the patient's chair and myself at the writing-table, she continued: "It's my inside, you know, Doctor."

The statement lacked anatomical precision and merely excluded the domain of the skin specialist. I accordingly waited for enlightenment and speculated on the watercress-beds, while Mrs. Jablett regarded me expectantly with a dim and watery eye.

"Ah!" I said, at length; "it's your--your inside, is it, Mrs. Jablett?"

"Yus. _And_ my 'ead," she added, with a voluminous sigh that filled the apartment with odorous reminiscences of "unsweetened."

"Your head aches, does it?"