person apparently copying the epitaphs. I wish he would go
away. I want to show them to you."

I now noticed, for the first time, an individual engaged, note-book in
hand, in making a careful survey of a group of old headstones. Evidently
he was making a copy of the inscriptions, for not only was he poring
attentively over the writing on the face of the stone, but now and again
he helped out his vision by running his fingers over the worn lettering.

"That is my grandfather's tombstone that he is copying now," said Miss
Bellingham; and even as she spoke, the man turned and directed a
searching glance at us with a pair of keen, spectacled eyes.

Simultaneously we uttered an exclamation of surprise; for the
investigator was Mr. Jellicoe.

CHAPTER XVI

"O! ARTEMIDORUS, FAREWELL!"

Whether or not Mr. Jellicoe was surprised to see us, it is impossible to
say. His countenance (which served the ordinary purposes of a face,
inasmuch as it contained the principal organs of special sense, with the
inlets to the alimentary and respiratory tracts) was, as an apparatus
for the expression of the emotions, a total failure. To a thought-reader
it would have been about as helpful as the face carved upon the handle
of an umbrella; a comparison suggested, perhaps, by a certain
resemblance to such an object. He advanced, holding his open note-book
and pencil, and having saluted us with a stiff bow and an old-fashioned
flourish of his hat, shook hands rheumatically and waited for us to
speak.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Jellicoe," said Miss Bellingham.

"It is very good of you to say so," he replied.

"And quite a coincidence--that we should all happen to come here on the
same day."

"A coincidence, certainly," he admitted; "and if we had all happened not
to come--which must have occurred frequently--that also would have been
a coincidence."

"I suppose it would," said she, "but I hope we are not interrupting
you."

"Thank you, no. I had just finished when I had the pleasure of
perceiving you."

"You were making some notes in reference to the case, I imagine," said
I. It was an impertinent question, put with malice aforethought for the
mere pleasure of hearing him evade it.

"The case?" he repeated. "You are referring, perhaps, to Stevens versus
the Parish Council?"

"I think Doctor Berkeley was referring to the case of my uncle's will,"
Miss Bellingham said quite gravely, though with a suspicious dimp