utler, presented James Glieve with a small
piece of pasteboard, on the morning following Antony's arrival in town,
with the statement that the gentleman was in the waiting-room, James
Glieve requested the instant presence of Henry Parsons, prior to the
introduction of Antony. From which token it will be justly observed that
the matter in hand was of importance. In James Glieve's eyes it was of
extreme importance, and that by reason of its being extremely unusual.

Some six weeks previously an unknown client had made his appearance in
the person of a big clean-shaven man, by name Doctor Hilary St. John.
Henry Parsons happened, this time quite by accident, to be present at the
interview. The big man had made certain statements in an exceedingly
business-like manner, and had then requested Messrs. Parsons and Glieve
to act on his behalf, or, rather, on behalf of the person for whom he was
emissary.

"But, bless my soul," James Glieve had boomed amazed, on the conclusion
of the request, "I never heard such a thing in my life. It--I am not at
all sure that it is legal."

"Not at all sure that it is legal," Henry Parsons had echoed.

The big man had laughed, recapitulated his statements, and urged his
point.

"I don't see how it can be done," James Glieve had responded
obstinately.

"It can't be done," the echo had repeated with even greater assurance
than the voice.

"Oh, yes, it can," Doctor Hilary had replied with greater assurance
still. "See here--" and he had begun all over again.

"Tut, tut," James Glieve had clucked on the conclusion of the third
recital. "You've said all that before. I tell you, man, the whole
business is too unusual. It--I'm sure it isn't legal. And anyhow it's
mad. What's the name of your--er, your deceased friend?"

"The name?" piped Henry Parsons.

"Nicholas Danver," had been the brief response.

"Nicholas Danver!" James Glieve had almost shouted the words. "Nicholas
Danver! God bless my soul!" And he had leant back in his chair and shaken
with laughter. Henry Parsons, true to his role, had chuckled at
intervals, but feebly. For the life of him he could see no cause for
mirth.

"Oh, Nick, Nick," sighed James Glieve, wiping his eyes after a few
minutes, "I always vowed you'd be the death of me. To think of you
turning up in the life of a staid elderly solicitor at this hour."

Henry Parsons stared. And this time his voice found no echo.

"Well, Doctor," said James Glieve, stuffin