He was just hard at work, trying whether it was possible to connect this with his enemy's disappearance, when he became aware of the fact that after nodding very peacefully, as if bowing to the counterfeit resemblance of his old friend on the wall, the lawyer suddenly sat up with a jerk. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said confusedly; "I am not used to this sort of thing." "Then lie down on the sofa and have a nap, sir," said the young man quietly. "No, I am not going to give in; but do you know, Mr Blank, I think a cigar and a good glass of toddy would be pleasant, soothing, stimulating and everything good one could say of it." "Yes, it would be pleasant," said George Harrington smiling. "Then I shall take the liberty, as executor, and poor old James Harrington's friend, of helping myself." "Easier to propose than to perform," said the old lawyer, after an examination. "Sideboard, cupboards, cellarettes and sarcophagus all locked up. Can't rouse the ladies; it would be brutal. But I tell you what; I know. Come with me." He led the way into the hall, lit a candle, and, leaving it on the slab, went softly into the study, followed by George. "Still asleep?" he whispered. "Yes, and calmer," was the reply. "Look here, Lawrence, I've been thinking that a glass of toddy and one of the old Partagas apiece would be good medicine, eh? Excusable under the circumstances?" "My dear Hampton, you ought to have been a physician," said the doctor smiling. "There, Mr Blank," whispered the old lawyer, rubbing his hands; "indorsed by the faculty. Here are the cigars," he said, opening the cabinet and taking out a box; "and here is a spirit-stand, but it is empty, I know; but I thought of going to the cellar and getting a bottle of that old Cognac from the far bin. Would you mind letting me reach to that drawer? Bless my heart, I seem to be quite at home in the old place." He opened the drawer, took out the cellar keys softly, nodded to the doctor, and, followed by George Harrington, went out, closed the door carefully, and then descended the passage and the few steps leading to the cellar door. "Now, I do not hold, Mr Blank," said the old man, pausing, candle in one hand, keys in the other, before the door, "that you are the rightful heir here; but I do say this, that the real Simon Pure will own as fine a cellar of wine as any man in the country." "Many a good bottle of which, my dear sir, I hope we shall discuss." "Ah, that remains to be proved. Would you mind holding the candle? Thanks. Look like burglars or debauchees, opening cellars at this time of the night; but my poor old friend had some very choice Cognac. Come along. Now, the other door. Hold up the light. Bin number twenty-four. Bless my soul, what's that?" A long, low, dismal howl close behind them nearly made the lawyer drop the long-necked bottle.