"By no means, my dear sir," protested Mr. Ball. "No," echoed Mr. Tongs. "I am glad of that," said "Cobbler" Horn. "I should be sorry to waste your valuable time." More than once a clerk had come to the door to announce that so-and-so or so-and-so, awaited the leisure of his employers; and, in every case, the answer had been, "let them wait." The time of Messrs. Tongs and Ball was indeed valuable, and no portion of it was likely to prove more so than that bestowed on the affairs of "Cobbler" Horn. Both the lawyers smiled amiably. "You could not waste our time, Mr. Horn," said Mr. Ball. "No," echoed Mr. Tongs. "That's very good of you, gentlemen. But at any rate I really have some business of the gravest importance still to discuss with you." "By all means, my dear sir," said Mr. Ball with gusto, settling himself in an attitude of attention, while Mr. Tongs also prepared himself to listen. "I wish, gentlemen," announced "the Golden Shoemaker," "to make my will." "To be sure," said Mr. Ball. "You see," continued "Cobbler" Horn, "a journey to America is attended with some risk." "Precisely," assented Mr. Ball. "And a man of your wealth, Mr. Horn, should not, in any case, postpone the making of his will. It was our intention to speak to you about the matter to-day." "To be sure," said "Cobbler" Horn. "Can it be done at once?" "Certainly," responded the lawyer, drawing his chair to the table, and preparing, pen in hand, to receive the instructions of his client. "You have no children, I think, Mr. Horn?" "Cobbler" Horn's cheeks blanched, and his lips quivered; but he instantly regained his self-control. "That is my difficulty," he said. "I had a child, but----" "Ah!" interrupted Mr. Ball, "I understand. Very sad." "No, sir," said "Cobbler" Horn sternly, "you do not understand. It is not as you think. But can I make my will in favour of a person who may, or may not, be alive?" Mr. Ball was in no wise abashed. "Do I take you, my dear sir? You----" "The person," interposed "Cobbler" Horn, "to whom I wish to leave my property is my little daughter, Marian, who wandered away twelve years ago, and has never been heard of since. Can I do it, gentlemen?" "I think you can, Mr. Horn," replied Mr. Ball. "In the absence of any proof of death, your daughter may be considered to be still alive. What do you say, Mr. Tongs?" "Oh yes; to be sure; certainly," exclaimed Mr. Tongs, who seemed to have been aroused from a reverie, and for whom it was enough that he was required to confirm some dictum of his partner. "Thank you, gentlemen. Then please to note that I wish my property to pass, at my death, to my daughter, Marian Horn." "Very good, sir," said Mr. Ball, making a note on a sheet of paper. "But," he added, with an enquiring glance towards his client, "in the event--that is to say, supposing your daughter were not to reappear, Mr. Horn?"