"I fear my mission has been fruitless, sir. Mr. Mortimer appears adamant on the point at issue." "You gave him my message?" "Verbatim, sir. In reply Mr. Mortimer desired me to tell you that, if you did not like it, you could do the other thing. I quote the exact words, sir." "He did, did he?" "Yes, sir." "Very good! Webster!" "Sir?" "When is the next train to London?" "I will ascertain, sir. Cook, I believe has a time-table." "Go and see, then. I want to know. And send Miss Wilhelmina to me." "Very good, sir." Somewhat consoled by the thought that he was taking definite action, Mr. Bennett lay back and waited for Billie. "I want you to go to London," he said, when she appeared. "To London? Why?" "I'll tell you why," said Mr. Bennett vehemently. "Because of that pest Mortimer. I must have legal advice. I want you to go and see Sir Mallaby Marlowe. Here's his address. Tell him the whole story. Tell him that this man is annoying me in every possible way and ask if he can't be stopped. If you can't see Sir Mallaby himself, see someone else in the firm. Go up to-night, so that you can see him first thing in the morning. You can stop the night at the Savoy. I've sent Webster to look out a train." "There's a splendid train in about an hour. I'll take that." "It's giving you a lot of trouble," said Mr. Bennett with belated consideration. "Oh no!" said Billie. "I'm only too glad to be able to do something for you, father dear. This noise is a terrible nuisance, isn't it." "You're a good girl," said Mr. Bennett. CHAPTER ELEVEN "That's right!" said Sir Mallaby Marlowe. "Work while you're young, Sam, work while you're young." He regarded his son's bent head with affectionate approval. "What's the book to-day?" "Widgery on Nisi prius Evidence," said Sam, without looking up. "Capital!" said Sir Mallaby. "Highly improving and as interesting as a novel--some novels. There's a splendid bit on, I think, page two hundred and fifty-four where the hero finds out all about Copyhold and Customary Estates. It's a wonderfully powerful situation. It appears--but I won't spoil it for you. Mind you don't skip to see how it all comes out in the end!" Sir Mallaby suspended conversation while he addressed an imaginary ball with the mashie which he had taken out of his golf-bag. For this was the day when he went down to Walton Heath for his weekly foursome with three old friends. His tubby form was clad in tweed of a violent nature, with knickerbockers and stockings. "Sam!" "Well?" "Sam, a man at the club showed me a new grip the other day. Instead of overlapping the little finger of the right hand ... Oh, by the way, Sam." "Yes?" "I should lock up the office to-day if I were you, or anxious clients will be coming in and asking for advice, and you'll find yourself in difficulties. I shall be gone, and Peters is away on his holiday. You'd better lock the outer door."