“Oh—I am afraid that I do not quite understand”—
“To be more precise, Sir, the will is tattooed on Miss Smithers.”
“What?” almost shouted the learned Doctor, literally bounding from his chair.
“The will is tattooed upon Miss Smithers’s back,” continued Mr. John Short, in a perfectly unmoved tone; “and it is now my duty to offer you inspection of the document, and to take your instructions as to how you propose to file it in the Registry”—
“Inspection of the document—inspection of the document?” gasped the astonished Doctor; “How am I to inspect the document?”
“I must leave that to you, Sir,” said Mr. John Short, regarding the learned Registrar’s shrinking form with contempt not unmixed with pity. “The will is on the lady’s back, and I, on behalf of the plaintiff, mean to get a grant with the document annexed.”
Lady Holmhurst began to laugh; and as for the learned Doctor, anything more absurd than he looked, intrenched as he was behind his office chair, with perplexity written on his face, it would be impossible to imagine.
“Well,” he said at length, “I suppose that I must come to a decision. It is a painful matter, very, to a person of modest temperament. However, I cannot shrink from my duty, and must face it. Therefore,” he went on with an air of judicial sternness, “therefore, Miss Smithers, I must trouble you to show me this alleged will. There is a cupboard there,” and he pointed to the corner of the room, “where you can make—‘um—make the necessary preparations.”
“Oh, it isn’t quite so bad as that,” said Augusta, with a sigh, and she began to remove her jacket.
“Dear me!” he said, observing her movement with alarm, “I suppose she is hardened,” he continued to himself: “but I dare say one gets used to this sort of thing upon desert islands.”