mained of the time he had allowed
himself to catch the last train.

"Now I am completely at your service," he said pleasantly; "you must, of
course, know, Mr. Shorthouse, that one cannot be too careful in matters
of this kind--especially," he went on, speaking very slowly and
impressively, "in dealing with a man like my former partner, whose mind,
as you doubtless may have discovered, is at times very sadly affected."

Shorthouse made no reply to this. He felt that the other was watching
him as a cat watches a mouse.

"It is almost a wonder to me," Garvey added, "that he is still at large.
Unless he has greatly improved it can hardly be safe for those who are
closely associated with him."

The other began to feel uncomfortable. Either this was the other side of
the story, or it was the first signs of mental irresponsibility.

"All business matters of importance require the utmost care in my
opinion, Mr. Garvey," he said at length, cautiously.

"Ah! then, as I thought, you have had a great deal to put up with from
him," Garvey said, with his eyes fixed on his companion's face. "And, no
doubt, he is still as bitter against me as he was years ago when the
disease first showed itself?"

Although this last remark was a deliberate question and the questioner
was waiting with fixed eyes for an answer, Shorthouse elected to take
no notice of it. Without a word he pulled the elastic band from the blue
envelope with a snap and plainly showed his desire to conclude the
business as soon as possible. The tendency on the other's part to delay
did not suit him at all.

"But never personal violence, I trust, Mr. Shorthouse," he added.

"Never."

"I'm glad to hear it," Garvey said in a sympathetic voice, "very glad to
hear it. And now," he went on, "if you are ready we can transact this
little matter of business before dinner. It will only take a moment."

He drew a chair up to the desk and sat down, taking a pair of scissors
from a drawer. His companion approached with the papers in his hand,
unfolding them as he came. Garvey at once took them from him, and after
turning over a few pages he stopped and cut out a piece of writing at
the bottom of the last sheet but one.

Holding it up to him Shorthouse read the words "Joel Garvey" in faded
ink.

"There! That's my signature," he said, "and I've cut it out. It must be
nearly twenty years since I wrote it, and now I'm going to burn it."

He went to the fire and stooped ove