"Come in for everything, doesn't he, sir?" asked Pratt, as he took an
address book from the desk, and picked up a sheaf of telegram forms.

"Every penny!" murmured Eldrick. "Nice little fortune, too--a fine thing
for a young fellow who's just been called to the Bar. As a matter of
fact, he'll be fairly well independent, even if he never sees a brief in
his life."

"He has been called, has he, sir?" asked Pratt, laying a telegram form
on Eldrick's writing pad and handing him a pen. "I wasn't aware of
that."

"Called this term--quite recently--at Gray's Inn," replied Eldrick, as
he sat down. "Very promising, clever young man. Look here!--we'd better
send two wires, one to his private address, and one to his chambers.
They're both in that book. It's six o'clock, isn't it?--he might be at
his chambers yet, but he may have gone home. I'll write both
messages--you put the addresses on, and get the wire off--we must have
him down here as soon as possible."

"One address is 53x, Pump Court; the other's 96, Cloburn Square,"
remarked Pratt consulting the book. "There's an express from King's
Cross at 8.15 which gets here midnight."

"Oh, it would do if he came down first thing in the morning--leave it to
him," said Eldrick. "I say, Pratt, do you think an inquest will be
necessary?"

Pratt had not thought of that--he began to think. And while he was
thinking, the doctor whom he had summoned came in. He looked at the dead