An expression of utter consternation spread over her face; in fact, she
was so completely taken aback that she forgot to release my hand.

"Heavens!" she exclaimed. "How idiotic of me! But it is impossible,
Doctor Berkeley! It will take you hours!"

"It is perfectly possible, and it is going to be done; otherwise the
notes would be useless. Do you want the bag?"

"No, of course not. But I am positively appalled. Hadn't you better give
up the idea?"

"And is this the end of our collaboration?" I exclaimed tragically,
giving her hand a final squeeze (whereby she became suddenly aware of
its position, and withdrew it rather hastily). "Would you throw away a
whole afternoon's work? I won't, certainly; so, good-bye until
to-morrow. I shall turn up in the reading-room as early as I can. You
had better take the tickets. Oh, and you won't forget about the copy of
the will for Doctor Thorndyke, will you?"

"No; if my father agrees, you shall have it this evening."

She took the tickets from me, and, thanking me yet again, retired into
the court.




CHAPTER VII