coincidences," said Thorndyke. "Nobody but a
reviewer of novels is ever really surprised at a coincidence. But what
is yours?"

"It is connected with a case that you mentioned to us at the hospital
about two years ago, the case of a man who disappeared under rather
mysterious circumstances. Do you remember it? The man's name was
Bellingham."

"The Egyptologist? Yes, I remember the case quite well. What about it?"

"The brother is a patient of mine. He is living in Nevill's Court with
his daughter, and they seem to be as poor as church mice."

"Really," said Thorndyke, "this is quite interesting. They must have
come down in the world rather suddenly. If I remember rightly, the
brother was living in a house of some pretentions standing in its own
grounds."

"Yes, that is so. I see you recollect all about the case."

"My dear fellow," said Jervis, "Thorndyke never forgets a likely case.
He is a sort of medico-legal camel. He gulps down the raw facts from the
newspapers or elsewhere, and then, in his leisure moments, he calmly
regurgitates them and has a quiet chew at them. It is a quaint habit. A
case crops up in the papers or in one of the courts, and Thorndyke
swallows it whole. Then it lapses and every one forgets it. A year or
two later it crops up in a new form, and, to your astonishment, you find
that Thorndyke has got it all cut and dried. He has been ruminating on
it periodically in the interval.

"You notice," said Thorndyke, "that my learned friend is pleased to
indulge in mixed metaphors. But his statement is substantially true,
though obscurely worded. You must tell us more about the Bellinghams
when we have fortified you with a cup of tea."

Our talk had brought us to Thorndyke's chambers, which were on the first
floor of No. 5A, King's Bench Walk, and as we entered the fine, spacious,
paneled room we found a small, elderly man, neatly dressed in black,
setting out the tea-service on the table. I glanced at him with some
curiosity. He hardly looked like a servant, in spite of his neat, black
clothes; in fact, his appearance was rather puzzling, for while his quiet
dignity and his serious intelligent face suggested some kind of
professional man, his neat, capable hands were those of a skilled
mechanic.

Thorndyke surveyed the tea-tray thoughtfully and then looked at his
retainer. "I see you have put three teacups, Polton," he said. "Now,
how did you know I was bringing some one