"Shut up, you mean," said Ferdy, who had now returned.
"Let us say disposed of," observed the doctor, genially, "and end the subject. Well, my dear Miss Baird," he added, gently, "now that our dear friend has been buried, we must learn how things are to be arranged."
"Mr. Barras will tell us that," said Clarice, glancing at the French clock on the mantelpiece. "He has not yet come!"
"He'll be here in a few moments," said Jerce, cheerily. "I saw him walking up the High Street. Ah!"--as there came a sharp ring at the front door--"there he is. Do you want me to remain?"
"Yes, do," urged Clarice; "both Ferdy and I would like you to be present at the reading of the will. You are our best friend."
"I should like to be something nearer and dearer," breathed Jerce, as the door opened, and Clarice rose to welcome the lawyer.
She pretended that she had not heard him, but he guessed that she had, from the flush which coloured her fair face. But by this time Barras was shaking hands with the two young people, and bowed politely to the famous doctor. "I am glad you're here, sir," he observed, sitting down and laying aside a black bag. "I want to ask you a question."
"What is it?" demanded Jerce, looking surprised. "You knew my late client, Mr. Horran, intimately?"
"Yes, for years and years. We were at school and college together."
"Then you would know."