"Nice day, Benson," remarked the lawyer cheerfully, as he took the
missive. "Is your master quite well?"

"Perfectly well, Sir Francis, thank you," replied Benson. "Leastways he
was when I saw him off just now."

"Oh! He's gone then?"

"Yes, Sir Francis. He's gone."

Sir Francis broke the seal of the letter,--then bethinking himself of
"Whereas the said" and "Witnesseth the so-and-so," turned to his worn
and jaded clerk.

"That will do for the present," he said. "You can go."

With pleasing haste the clerk put together the voluminous folios of blue
paper from which he had been reading, and quickly made his exit, while
Sir Francis, still standing, put on his glasses and unfolded the one
sheet of note-paper on which Helmsley's communication was written.
Glancing it up and down, he turned it over and over--then addressed
himself to the attentively waiting Benson.

"So Mr. Helmsley has started on his trip alone?"

"Yes, Sir Francis. Quite alone."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He booked for Southhampton, sir."