cordial greeting.

"My dear Jervis," he exclaimed, as we clasped hands warmly, "this is a
great and delightful surprise. How often have I thought of my old
comrade and wondered if I should ever see him again, and lo! here he is,
thrown up on the sounding beach of the Inner Temple, like the proverbial
bread cast upon the waters."

"Your surprise, Thorndyke, is nothing to mine," I replied, "for your
bread has at least returned as bread; whereas I am in the position of a
man who, having cast his bread upon the waters, sees it return in the
form of a buttered muffin or a Bath bun. I left a respectable medical
practitioner and I find him transformed into a bewigged and begowned
limb of the law."

Thorndyke laughed at the comparison.

"Liken not your old friend unto a Bath bun," said he. "Say, rather, that
you left him a chrysalis and come back to find him a butterfly. But the
change is not so great as you think. Hippocrates is only hiding under
the gown of Solon, as you will understand when I explain my
metamorphosis; and that I will do this very evening, if you have no
engagement."

"I am one of the unemployed at present," I said, "and quite at your
service."

"Then come round to my chambers at seven," said Thorndyke, "and we will
have a chop and a pint of claret together and exchange autobiographies.
I am due in court in a few minutes."