he did not see his way through the case;
repeating as often as he set his glass down
empty, "Mr. Wilding, No Thoroughfare. Rest
and be thankful."

It is certain that the honest wine-merchant's
anxiety to make a will, originated in profound
conscientiousness; though it is possible (and
quite consistent with his rectitude) that he may
unconsciously have derived some feeling of
relief from the prospect of delegating his own
difficulty to two other men who were to come
after him. Be that as it may, he pursued his
new track of thought with great ardour, and
lost no time in begging George Vendale and
Mr. Bintrey to meet him in Cripple Corner
and share his confidence.

"Being all three assembled with closed doors,"
said Mr. Bintrey, addressing the new partner on
the occasion, "I wish to observe, before our
friend (and my client) entrusts us with his
further views, that I have endorsed what I
understand from him to have been your advice,
Mr. Vendale, and what would be the advice of
every sensible man. I have told him that he
positively must keep his secret. I have spoken
with Mrs. Goldstraw, both in his presence and
in his absence; and if anybody is to be trusted
(which is a very large IF), I think she is to be
trusted to that extent. I have pointed out to
our friend (and my client), that to set on foot
random inquiries would not only be to raise the
Devil, in the likeness of all the swindlers in the
kingdom, but would also be to waste the estate.
Now, you see, Mr. Vendale, our friend (and my
client), does not desire to waste the estate, but,
on the contrary, desires to husband it for what
he considers—but I can't say I do—the rightful
owner, if such rightful owner should ever be
found. I am very much mistaken if he ever
will be, but never mind that. Mr. Wilding and
I are, at least, agreed that the estate is not to be
wasted. Now, I have yielded to Mr. Wilding's
desire to keep an advertisement at intervals
flowing through the newspapers, cautiously
inviting any person who may know anything
about that adopted infant, taken from the Foundling
Hospital, to come to my office; and I have
pledged myself that such advertisement shall
regularly appear. I have gathered from our
friend (and my client) that I meet you here
today to take his instructions, not to give him
advice. I am prepared to receive his instructions,
and to respect his wishes; but you will
please observe that this does not imply my
approval of either as a matter of professional
opinion."

Thus Mr. Bintrey; talking quite as much at
Wilding as to Vendale. And yet, in spite of
his care for his client, he was so amused by his
client's Quixotic conduct, as to eye him from
time to time with twinkling eyes, in the light
of a highly comical curiosity.

"Nothing," observed Wilding, "can be
clearer. I only wish, my head were as clear as
yours, Mr. Bintrey."

"If you feel that singing in it, coming on,"
hinted the lawyer, with an alarmed glance, "put
it off—I mean the interview."

"Not at all, I thank you," said Wilding.
"What was I going to——"

"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Wilding," urged
the lawyer.

"No; I wasn't going to," said the wine-merchant.
"Mr. Bintrey and George Vendale,
would you have any hesitation or objection to
become my joint trustees and executors, or can
you at once consent?"

"/ consent," replied George Vendale, readily.

"/ consent," said Bintrey, not so readily.

"Thank you both. Mr. Bintrey, my instructions
for my last will and testament are short
and plain. Perhaps you will now have the
goodness to take them down. I leave the whole
of my real and personal estate, without any
exception or reservation whatsoever, to you two,
my joint trustees and executors, in trust to pay
over the whole to the true Walter Wilding, if
he shall be found and identified within two
years after the day of my death. Failing that,
in trust to you two to pay over the whole as a
benefaction and legacy to the Foundling
Hospital."

"Those are all your instructions, are they,
Mr. Wilding?" demanded Bintrey, after a blank
silence, during which nobody had looked at
anybody.

"The whole."

"And as to those instructions, you have
absolutely made up your mind, Mr.
Wilding?"

"Absolutely, decidedly, finally."

"It only remains," said the lawyer, with one
shrug of his shoulders, "to get them into
technical and binding form, and to execute and
attest. Now, does that press? Is there any
hurry about it? You are not going to die yet,
sir."

"Mr. Bintrey," answered Wilding, gravely,
"when I am going to die is within other
knowledge than yours or mine. I shall be
glad to have this matter off my mind, if you
please."

"We are lawyer and client again," rejoined
Bintrey, who, for the nonce, had become almost
sympathetic. "If this day week—here, at the
same hour—will suit Mr. Vendale and yourself,
I will enter in my Diary that I attend you
accordingly."

The appointment was made, and in due
sequence kept. The will was formally signed,
sealed, delivered, and witnessed, and was carried
off by Mr. Bintrey for safe storage among the
papers of his clients, ranged in their respective
iron boxes, with their respective owners' names
outside, on iron tiers in his consulting-room, as
if that legal sanctuary were a condensed Family
Vault of Clients.

With more heart than he had lately had for
former subjects of interest, Wilding then set
about completing his patriarchal establishment,
being much assisted not only by Mrs. Goldstraw
but by Vendale too: who, perhaps, had in his
mind the giving of an Obenreizer dinner as soon
as possible. Anyhow, the establishment being
reported in sound working order, the
Obenreizers, Guardian and Ward, were asked to