Time?’ asked Grigg.

‘Eleven,’ said Limpet, looking at his watch.

Grigg was tall and thin. Limpet was short and fat. Admirable lawyers and admirable men; they made admirable partners. Solicitors to dozens of wealthy families, tin boxes, lettered in white, lined the walls of every room. Envious neighbours said that Grigg started in the profession with six dozen of the said boxes, bought cheap at a sale, and that the capital which Limpet brought into the business was a gross more.

Of course, this was merely malice. Doubtless each one of those tin boxes was crammed with deeds relating to millions and millions and millions of money. The statement that Grigg kept his old hats in the one labelled ‘His Grace the Duke of Cheshire,’ and that Limpet junior used the one labelled ‘The Candlestick Makers’ Company’ to keep the back files of a sporting paper from injury, is on a par with the other malicious assertions above referred to.

Limpet junior doesn’t trouble the firm much. He used to come down occasionally about eleven, put the kettle on in his private office, and as soon as the water was warm enough he would wash his hands and go home again. One day he opened a letter marked ‘Immediate,’ and put it into his pocket in order not to forget it. He wore the same coat again when he went to Boulogne, about six months afterwards, and he found the letter when he wanted a bit of paper to write an I O U for £50 on, for a gentleman who had been good enough to play cards with him at the Establishment. He posted it home with praiseworthy promptitude. Grigg and Limpet were sued for negligence in not attending to that letter, and it cost them £200 to stay the proceedings. After that the partners agreed that the less Limpet junior attended to business, the more likely he was to be worth the salary he drew.

Grigg and Limpet are sitting opposite each other to-day in room B. All the rooms are lettered, and this has a great effect upon clients. Faney a business so extensive that the very rooms have to be lettered for fear they should get mixed!

‘Time?’ says Grigg, looking up again.

‘Ten past,’ answers Limpet. ‘Time they were here,’

Limpet always says more than Grigg.

A clerk comes in.

‘Dr. Birnie, if you please, sir.’

‘Room C,’ says Grigg.

Presently another clerk comes in.

‘Mrs. Turvey, please, and a little girl.’

‘Room D,’ says Limpet.

A third clerk enters.

‘Mr. John Symonds.’

‘Room F,’ says Grigg.

The clerks having retired to do their bidding, the partners sit still for a few minutes.

‘Time?’ says Grigg.

‘Twenty-past,’ says Limpet. ‘I think that will do.’

Clients calling on Grigg and Limpet are always kept waiting from ten minutes to a quarter of an hour. Lawyers with such an enormous business are never disengaged at a moment’s notice.

Grigg goes to the side of the room where several speaking-tubes are arranged. These are lettered A, B, C, D, E, and F Malice says they all communicate with the same office; but what will not malice say?

‘Show all parties to the Egerton case in,’ says Grigg, speaking up the tube.

Presently the three clerks appear, bringing in the doctor, Mrs. Turvey and Topsy, and Mr. Symonds, who, judging from his appearance, is a seafaring man.

Grigg and Limpet bow and motion the visitors to the seats. Grigg bows to the ladies, Limpet to the gentlemen.

‘Mr. Limpet,’ says Grigg, ‘explain matters.’

‘Ahem, ’says Limpet, ‘we have thought it better, Mr. Grigg and myself, to ask you to attend here to-day together in re Egerton. I should say in the matter of our client, Mr. Gurth Egerton—our late client, I fear I should say. Before taking any steps, we have thought—Mr. Grigg and myself have thought—that it would be better to hear the evidence in this matter, in order that we—in order that Mr. Grigg and myself might, if possible, arrive at some definite conclusion. Ahem, ahem.’

‘Will,’ said Grigg.

‘Exactly. Thank you. The will. The will of the—I fear I must say late?’

‘Say late,’ put in Grigg.

‘Exactly; we will say late, as Mr. Grigg suggests. It is better. It is a sad description, but I fear a truthful one.’

Mr. Limpet looked at Mr. Grigg to see if any emotion was advisable.

‘No relatives,’ muttered Grigg.

‘Exactly. There are fortunately no relatives of the deceased here, so that we can discuss this matter calmly, without yielding to that very natural emotion which in cases of this sort, ahem—is, ahem—is, ahem——’

‘Usual,’ suggested Grigg.

‘Exactly, which is usual. The will, as you are aware, was left in our possession when the, I fear I must say deceased, gentleman set out to travel abroad for the—ahem—for the——’

‘Benefit of his health,’ said Grigg.

‘Exactly, the benefit of his health. Alas! his health was not benefited, for I fear that he is now—that he is now——’

‘Bottom of the deep blue sea,’ suggested Grigg.

‘Exactly. As Mr. Grigg poetically puts it, at the bottom of the deep blue sea. Of course, in cases of this sort there is always a difficulty to prove death. There is always a doubt.’

‘Beggin’ your pardon, cap’en,’ interrupted the seafaring man, ‘but I’m qualified to speak to that there point. There ain’t any doubt about it at all. Them as goes to the bottom of the sea where the Boney’s Paw went down is gone to Davy Jones right enough.’

‘Exactly. Mr.—Mr. Symonds, thank you. But that is not the point. You see—excuse the little humour—we can’t call Mr. Jones as a witness. Ha, ha!’

‘Ha, ha!’ groaned Grigg. Grigg’s laugh was exactly the same as his groan.

‘There is a doubt in law, I say; but that, of course, we shall be able to get over. We shall prove the loss of the vessel; we shall ascertain that Mr. Egerton was on board; that he was left on board; that he is not among the survivors, who can all be accounted for; and that, as a matter of fact, he is, as Mr. Grigg very sympathetically and, I may say, very poetically observed, at the bottom of the deep blue sea—in other words, that he is dead. You, Mr. Symonds, I believe, were the last man to leave the vessel when the boats put off? ‘I were, cap’en.’

‘And you left Mr. Egerton on board?’

‘There was a passenger o’ that name, and I left him aboard.’

‘Both boats were picked up, I believe, by a passing vessel on the second day?’

‘They was,’ answered Mr Symonds.

‘And you are quite certain the passenger known as Mr. Egerton was not on board either of the boats?’

‘Sartin.’

‘I think, Dr. Birnie, that is satisfactory?’ said Limpet, turning to the gentleman addressed.

‘Quite,’ said the doctor, with a bow.

‘Dr. Birnie, I should say, that all present may understand the position, is left sole executor of our—I fear I must say, in fact, I will say—our late client’s will. He therefore is interested in proving the death of our late client. Mrs. Turvey—ahem!

‘Perhaps, Mr. Grigg, you——’

‘Certainly,’ said Grigg. Grigg always talked to the ladies. ‘Mrs. Turvey. Madam, under the provisions of the will, you receive a legacy of five hundred pounds. Old servant. Very proper, and all the rest of it. Go on, Mr. Limpet.’

‘Exactly. Mrs. Turvey, therefore you also are interested in proving the death of our late client.’

Mrs. Turvey said ‘Thank you,’ and dropped a curtsey, and wondered whether she ought to shake hands with Grigg and Limpet or not.

‘Now,’ continued Mr. Limpet, ‘everything would be satisfactory, but for the extraordinary statement of—Mr. Grigg, perhaps you——’

‘Certainly,’ said Grigg. ‘You see, madam, you and your daughter——’

‘Niece,’ said Mrs. Turvey, rising and curtseying.

‘Same thing. You and your niece saw a ghost. Law doesn’t acknowledge ghosts. Either you saw Mr. Egerton, not at the bottom of the deep blue sea, but at his own front door, which is a different place altogether. Very, Eh? You did, you know, or you didn’t. Eh? Which?’

Mrs. Turvey rose and curtseyed to the assembly.

‘Which, if it’s the last words I ever speak, gentlemen, I see Mr. Egerton’s ghost that night a-standing at the door, all white and looking dreadful. My niece see it first, and she screams and I comes up, and I shudders now to think of it. I’ll take my happydavid of it, sir, as I’m a Christian woman; and so’ll Topsy: won’t you, dear?’

‘Yes,’ said Topsy, rather scared at being appealed to. Whether the ‘happydavid’ she was required to take was a powder or a sweetmeat, Topsy didn’t know; but in the presence of Grigg and Limpet she would have said ‘Yes’ to anything.

‘My good lady,’ said Grigg, ‘we don’t doubt you; but the law will. Excuse me—mere form of words—you weren’t drunk?’

‘Lor’, no, sir; I don’t do it,’ said Mrs. Turvey, bridling up.

‘Of course not. Well, then, if sober, you saw a man, not a ghost. Little daughter—beg pardon, niece—saw a man. Both sober; both saw same thing. What was it? Who was it? Eh?’

‘I attended this lady,’ put in Dr. Birnie, ‘and I found her suffering from a shock to the nervous system. I am sure she saw something. It couldn’t have been a ghost, and I really don’t see how it could have been the lamented Mr. Egerton.’

‘Certainly not,’ said Grigg; ‘couldn’t have been. Sea don’t give up its dead. Eh, what is it, child?’

Topsy was fidgeting on her chair and whispering to her aunt.

‘Speak out, child,’ said Grigg.

‘Speak out, little one,’ said Limpet; ‘the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—so help—beg pardon—of course not. Speak the truth, child; what is it?’

‘Please, sir,’ stammered Topsy, very red and shamefaced, ‘perhaps it were the Judgment-day.’

Grigg looked at Limpet, and Limpet looked at Grigg.

As a lady, Topsy fell to Grigg’s share.

‘Judgment-day, eh? Ridiculous—queer notion, eh? What d’ye mean, child?’

‘Please, sir, it says in the Bible that the sea will give up its dead at the Judgment-day.’

‘Ah!—of course—good girl. Always remember Bible—queer notion. But it isn’t the Judgment-day yet—at least, I hope not—eh, Mr. Limpet?’

Mr. Limpet shook his head gravely. Topsy, who wondered if she had said something very wrong, hid her face behind her aunt’s back.

‘The question is,’ resumed Limpet, ‘who was the man Mrs. Turvey and the child saw? That’s it, I think, Dr. Birnie?’

Dr. Birnie nodded.

‘It was my master, Mr. Gurth Egerton’s ghost as I see,’ exclaimed Mrs. Turvey emphatically; ‘and nothing will turn me from that.’

Mr. Limpet turned to Mr. Symonds.

‘We have your statement and your address, I think, Mr. Symonds?’

‘Yes, sir,’ answered the seafaring gentleman, ‘my address when ashore; but I ain’t often there. I’m mostly a little beyond the four-mile radius.’

Mr. Limpet smiled condescendingly.

‘Then for the present we can spare you, Mr. Symonds. The firm will see you compensated for any trouble you may be put to.’

‘Thank you, cap’en and gen’l’men, one and all,’ said Mr. Symonds; ‘and good-morning, ladies—yours most obedient.’

Mr. Symonds made a leg, swung his hat in the nautical manner and rolled out of the room.

‘Mrs. Turvey, for the present I hope you will remain in charge of the house now we have found a woman to be with you.’

‘Yes, sir,’ answered Mrs. Turvey; ‘I don’t mind now I’ve company; and I never was afeard of human beings; but ghosts I was not brought up to, and never shall be.’

‘Certainly not, my dear madam,’ said Limpet. ‘We will send to you again when necessary. Good-morning.’

Mrs. Turvey rose to go. She curtseyed, and led Topsy to the door.

‘Good-day, child,’ said Mr. Grigg. ‘Day of Judgment—queer notion for a child—always remember Bible.’

When Mrs Turvey and Topsy had departed, Messrs. Grigg and Limpet had a long and earnest conversation with Dr. Birnie, the result of which was the drawing up of an advertisement, to be inserted in the Times, requesting the present address of Mr. George Englehardt, the rescued passenger of the Bon Espoir. He might be able to prove even to the law that Gurth Egerton was dead, and his property at liberty to be dealt with.

And when his employers were busy in room B, Mr. Jabez slipped out of the office, and, meeting Mrs. Turvey at the door, escorted her home to what he informed her he now looked upon as a haunted house.

‘The sort of house, Susan,’ he said, ‘which I had in my mind’s eye, Horatio, when I wrote a few lines promiscuously, beginning:

And over all there hung a sense of fear

That e’en the boldest might well have daunted;

And apparitions made it very clear

The place was haunted,’—

which mutilation of Hood, being dramatically recited in High Holborn, caused the passers-by to stare, and Mrs. Turvey to clutch hold of Jabez’s arm tightly, if not lovingly.