favourably and he was able to resume his ordinary avocations.

Miss Gibson's visit--but why should I speak of her in these formal
terms? To me, when I thought of her, which I did only too often, she was
Juliet, with perhaps an adjective thrown in; and as Juliet I shall
henceforth speak of her (but without the adjective) in this narrative,
wherein nothing has been kept back from the reader--Juliet's visit,
then, had been a great success, for my colleague was really pleased by
the attention, and displayed a quiet geniality that filled our visitor
with delight.

He talked a good deal of Reuben, and I could see that he was
endeavouring to settle in his own mind the vexed question of her
relations with and sentiments towards our unfortunate client; but what
conclusions he arrived at I was unable to discover, for he was by no
means communicative after she had left. Nor was there any repetition of
the visit--greatly to my regret--since, as I have said, he was able, in
a day or two, to resume his ordinary mode of life.

The first evidence I had of his renewed activity appeared when I
returned to the chambers at about eleven o'clock in the morning, to find
Polton hovering dejectedly about the sitting-room, apparently
perpetrating as near an approach to a "spring clean" as could be
permitted in a bachelor establishment.

"Hallo, Polton!" I exclaimed, "have you contrived to tear yourself away
from the laboratory for an hour or two?"

"No, sir," he answered gloomily. "The laboratory has torn itself away
from me."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The Doctor has shut himself in and locked the door, and he says I am
not to disturb him. It will be a cold lunch to-day."

"What is he doing in there?" I inquired.

"Ah!" said Polton, "that's just what I should like to know. I'm fair
eaten up with curiosity. He is making some experiments in connection
with some of his cases, and when the Doctor locks himself in to make
experiments, something interesting generally follows. I should like to
know what it is this time."

"I suppose there is a keyhole in the laboratory door?" I suggested, with
a grin.

"Sir!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Dr. Jervis, I am surprised at you."
Then, perceiving my facetious intent, he smiled also and added: "But
there _is_ a keyhole if you'd like to try it, though I'll wager the
Doctor would see more of you than you would of him."

"You are mighty secret about your doings, you and the Doctor," I said.