y remarked:

"I almost think, Jervis, I could manage by myself now. I know you are
only staying on for my sake."

"I am staying on to finish my engagement, but I shan't be sorry to clear
out if you can do without me."

"I think I can. When would you like to be off?"

"As soon as possible. Say to-morrow morning, after I have made a few
visits and transferred the patients to you."

"Very well," said Stillbury. "Then I will give you your cheque and
settle up everything to-night, so that you shall be free to go off when
you like to-morrow morning."

Thus ended my connection with Kennington Lane. On the following day at
about noon, I found myself strolling across Waterloo Bridge with the
sensations of a newly liberated convict and a cheque for twenty-five
guineas in my pocket. My luggage was to follow when I sent for it. Now,
unhampered even by a hand-bag, I joyfully descended the steps at the
north end of the bridge and headed for King's Bench Walk by way of the
Embankment and Middle Temple Lane.

Chapter V

Jeffrey Blackmore's Will

My arrival at Thorndyke's chambers was not unexpected, having been
heralded by a premonitory post-card. The "oak" was open and an
application of the little brass knocker of the inner door immediately
produced my colleague himself and a very hearty welcome.

"At last," said Thorndyke, "you have come forth from the house of
bondage. I began to think that you had taken up your abode in Kennington
for good."

"I was beginning, myself, to wonder when I should escape. But here I am;
and I may say at once that I am ready to shake the dust of general
practice off my feet for ever--that is, if you are still willing to have
me as your assistant."

"Willing!" exclaimed Thorndyke, "Barkis himself was not more willing
than I. You will be invaluable to me. Let us settle the terms of our
comradeship forthwith, and to-morrow we will take measures to enter you
as a student of the Inner Temple. Shall we have our talk in the open air
and the spring sunshine?"

I agreed readily to this proposal, for it was a bright, sunny day and
warm for the time of year--the beginning of April. We descended to the
Walk and thence slowly made our way to the quiet court behind the
church, where poor old Oliver Goldsmith lies, as he would surely have
wished to lie, in the midst of all that had been dear to him in his
chequered life. I need not record the matter of our conversation. To
Thorndyke's proposals