on to the next case. It is a difficult
habit to acquire; for an important, distressing or obscure case is apt
to take possession of the consciousness and hinder the exercise of
attention that succeeding cases demand; but experience shows the faculty
to be indispensable, and the practitioner learns in time to forget
everything but the patient with whose condition he is occupied at the
moment.

My first morning's work on the Blackmore case showed me that the same
faculty is demanded in legal practice; and it also showed me that I had
yet to acquire it. For, as I looked over the depositions and the copy of
the will, memories of the mysterious house in Kennington Lane
continually intruded into my reflections, and the figure of Mrs.
Schallibaum, white-faced, terrified, expectant, haunted me continually.

In truth, my interest in the Blackmore case was little more than
academic, whereas in the Kennington case I was one of the parties and
was personally concerned. To me, John Blackmore was but a name, Jeffrey
but a shadowy figure to which I could assign no definite personality,
and Stephen himself but a casual stranger. Mr. Graves, on the other
hand, was a real person. I had seen him amidst the tragic circumstances
that had probably heralded his death, and had brought away with me, not
only a lively recollection of him, but a feeling of profound pity and
concern as to his fate. The villain Weiss, too, and the terrible woman
who aided, abetted and, perhaps, even directed him, lived in my memory
as vivid and dreadful realities. Although I had uttered no hint to
Thorndyke, I lamented inwardly that I had not been given some work--if
there was any to do--connected with this case, in which I was so deeply
interested, rather than with the dry, purely legal and utterly
bewildering case of Jeffrey Blackmore's will.

Nevertheless, I stuck loyally to my task. I read through the depositions
and the will--without getting a single glimmer of fresh light on the
case--and I made a careful digest of all the facts. I compared my
digest with Thorndyke's notes--of which I also made a copy--and found
that, brief as they were, they contained several matters that I had
overlooked. I also drew up a brief account of our visit to New Inn, with
a list of the objects that we had observed or collected. And then I
addressed myself to the second part of my task, the statement of my
conclusions from the facts set forth.

It was only when I came to make t