aceries waltzed around solid Norman and rigid Perpendicular,
nightmares of undigested Parker. But they kept Parson Jack happy.

He had not forgotten to answer Messrs. Cudmore's letter, thanking them
for their information, and adding that he proposed to pay a visit to
Plymouth, and would call upon Major Bromham, with that gentleman's
leave, and discuss the legacy. They replied that their client was just
then in the north of Devon on a shooting-party, but would return to
Plymouth by an afternoon train on the following Wednesday and grant Mr.
Flood an interview.

The tone of this letter, as of the previous one, was unmistakably cold,
but Parson Jack read nothing more in it than professional formality.
On the Wednesday, however, when he reached Plymouth, he presented
himself at Messrs. Cudmore's office, and was admitted to see the head of
the firm, the manner of his reception began to puzzle him.

"Mr.--ah--Flood?" began Mr. Cudmore senior, with the faintest possible
bow. "Our client, Major Bromham, is not returning until late this
afternoon--by the four-forty train, in fact. I myself dictated the
letter in reply to yours, and fancied I had made it explicit."

"Oh, quite. I called merely in the hope that you would give me some
further information about my brother's will; since, apart from this
legacy, I know nothing."

"You must excuse me, but I prefer to leave that to the Major. In any
case, the will is to be proved without delay, and may then, as you know,
be inspected for a shilling."

Parson Jack, guileless man that he was, had a way of putting a straight
question. "I want to know," said he quietly, "why on earth you are
treating me like this?"

"My dear sir--" began the lawyer. But Parson Jack cut him short.

"I, for my part, will be plain with you. I ask to see the will simply
because I know nothing of my brother's property, and wish to see how his
wife and children are provided for. There is nothing extraordinary in
that, surely?"

"H'm"--the lawyer pondered, eyeing him. Clearly there was something in
this shabbily dressed clergyman which countered his expectations.
"The person who could best satisfy you on this point would be Mrs.
Flood herself; but I take it you have no desire to see her personally."

"Mrs. Flood? Do you mean my brother's wife?"

"Certainly."

"But--but is she here--in Plymouth?" Parson Jack's eyes opened wide.

"I presume so. Hoe Terrace, she informs me, has been her