"He _is_ very nice and sympathetic," I retorted with some emphasis, "but
he doesn't make himself agreeable by divulging his clients' secrets."

"I suppose not; and I regard myself as very effectively snubbed," said
she, smiling, but evidently somewhat piqued by my not very tactful
observation.

I was hastening to repair my error with apologies and self-accusations,
when the door opened and an elderly lady entered the room. She was
somewhat stout, amiable and placid of mien, and impressed me (to be
entirely truthful) as looking rather foolish.

"Here is Mrs. Hornby," said Miss Gibson, presenting me to her hostess;
and she continued, "Dr. Jervis has come to ask about the 'Thumbograph.'
You haven't destroyed it, I hope?"

"No, my dear," replied Mrs. Hornby. "I have it in my little bureau. What
did Dr. Jervis wish to know about it?"

Seeing that she was terrified lest some new and dreadful surprise should
be sprung upon her, I hastened to reassure her.

"My colleague, Dr. Thorndyke, is anxious to examine it. He is directing
your nephew's defence, you know."

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Hornby. "Juliet told me about him. She says he is
a dear. Do you agree with her?"

Here I caught Miss Gibson's eye, in which was a mischievous twinkle, and
noted a little deeper pink in her cheeks.