to write to the doctor?"

"Certainly. And what about the book?"

"It was sealed up when I got it. I don't think the
doctor had seen it."

"It is something very rare? Meyrick was a collector,
perhaps?"

"No, I think not, hardly a collector. Now, what do you
think of these Ainu jugs?"

"They are peculiar, but I like them. But aren't you
going to show me poor Meyrick's legacy?"

"Yes, yes, to be sure. The fact is, it's rather a
peculiar sort of thing, and I haven't shown it to any one. I
wouldn't say anything about it if I were you. There it is."

Villiers took the book, and opened it at haphazard.

"It isn't a printed volume, then?" he said.

"No. It is a collection of drawings in black and white
by my poor friend Meyrick."

Villiers turned to the first page, it was blank; the
second bore a brief inscription, which he read: