"No hurry," observed Brent, changing to geniality. He laid his hand on the bell. "Have a whisky-and-soda and a cigar? We've finished our business, and I guess you're a man as well as a lawyer?" But the visitor was unable to disassociate his personal identity from his office, and he bowed himself out. Brent laughed when he had gone. "Got the weight of four hundred and eighty-one years of incorporation on him!" he said. "Lord! it's like living with generation after generation of your grandfathers slung round you! Four hundred and eighty-one years! Must have been in the bad old days when this mouldy town got its charter!" Next morning Brent buried the dead Mayor in St. Hathelswide's Churchyard, privately and quietly. He stayed by the grave until the sexton and his assistants had laid the green turf over it; that done, he went round to the Abbey House and sought out Mrs. Saumarez. After his characteristic fashion he spoke out what was in his mind. "I've pretty well fixed up, in myself, to do what you suggested last night," he said, giving her one of his direct glances. "You know what I mean--to go on with his work." Mrs. Saumarez's eyes sparkled. "That would be splendid!" she exclaimed. "But, if he had opposition, you'll have it a hundred-fold! You're not afraid?" "Afraid of nothing," said Brent carelessly. "But I just don't know how I'd get any right to do it. I'm not a townsman--I've no _locus standi_. But, then he wasn't, to begin with." "I'd forgotten that," said Mrs. Saumarez. "And you'd have to give up your work in London--journalism, isn't it?" "I've thought of that," said Brent. "Well, I've had a pretty good spell at it, and I'm not so keen about keeping on it any longer. There's other work--literary work--I'd prefer. And I'm not dependent on it any way--I've got means of my own, and now Wallingford's left me a good lot of money. No; I guess I wouldn't mind coming here and going on with the job he'd set himself to; I'd like to do it But, then, how to get a footing in the place?" Mrs. Saumarez considered for a while. Suddenly her face lighted up. "You've got money," she said. "Why don't you buy a bit of property in the town--a piece of real estate? Then----" Brent picked up his hat. "That's a good notion," he said. "I'll step round and see Tansley about it." Tansley had been one of the very few men whom Brent had invited to be present at his cousin's interment. He had just changed his mourning garments for those of everyday life and was settling down to his professional business when Brent was shown into his private office. "Busy?" demanded Brent in his usual laconic fashion. "Give you whatever time you want," answered the solicitor, who knew his man by that time. "What is it now?"