. I have not consulted the oracle in vain. He
is a patient of yours, no doubt?"

"A patient and a personal friend. His address is Forty-nine Nevill's
Court."

"Thank you, thank you. Oh, and as you are a friend, perhaps you can
inform me as to the customs of the household. I am not expected, and I
do not wish to make an untimely visit. What are Mr. Bellingham's habits
as to his evening meal? Would this be a convenient time to call?"

"I generally make my evening visits a little later than this--say about
half-past eight; they have finished their meal by then."

"Ah! half-past eight, then? Then I suppose I had better take a walk
until that time. I don't want to disturb them."

"Would you care to come in and smoke a cigar until it is time to make
your call? If you would, I could walk over with you and show you the
house."

"That is very kind of you," said my new acquaintance, with an
inquisitive glance at me through his spectacles. "I think I should like
to sit down. It's a dull affair, mooning about the streets, and there
isn't time to go back to my chambers--in Lincoln's Inn."

"I wonder," said I, as I ushered him into the room lately vacated by
Miss Oman, "if you happen to be Mr. Jellicoe?"

He turned his spectacles full on me with a keen, suspicious glance.
"What makes you think I am Mr. Jellicoe?" he asked.

"Oh, only that you live in Lincoln's Inn."

"Ha! I see. I live in Lincoln's Inn; Mr. Jellicoe lives in Lincoln's
Inn; therefore I am Mr. Jellicoe. Ha! ha! Bad logic, but a correct
conclusion. Yes, I am Mr. Jellicoe. What do you know about me?"

"Mighty little, excepting that you were the late John Bellingham's man
of business."

"The '_late_ John Bellingham,' hey! How do you know he is the late John
Bellingham?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't; only I rather understood that that was
your own belief."

"You understood! Now, from whom did you 'understand' that? From Godfrey
Bellingham? H'm! And how did he know what I believe? I never told him.
It is a very unsafe thing, my dear sir, to expound another man's
beliefs."

"Then you think that John Bellingham is alive?"

"Do I? Who said so? I did not, you know."

"But he must be either dead or alive."

"There," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I am entirely with you. You have stated an
undeniable truth."

"It is not a very illuminating one, however," I replied, laughing.

"Undeniable truths often are not," he retorted. "They are apt to be
extremely general.