he said: "he is in his
worst mood. However, I will go along and find out what his wishes are."

He was absent for ten minutes, and when he returned he beckoned to the
visitor.

Poltavo followed him up the stairs till he came to the room in which the
bedridden Mr. Moole lay.

A man turned as the two visitors came in--it was Farrington in the life,
Farrington as he had seen him on the night of his disappearance from the
box at the Jollity. The big man nodded curtly.

"Why have you come down here," he asked, harshly, "leading half the
detectives in London to me?"

"I do not think you need bother about half the detectives in London,"
said Poltavo. He looked at Fall. "I want to see you alone," he said.

Farrington nodded his head and the other departed, closing the door
behind him.

"Now," said Poltavo,--he crossed the room with two strides,--"I want to
know what you mean--you treacherous dog--by this infernal will of
yours!"

"You can sit down," said Farrington, coolly, "and you can learn right
now, Poltavo, that I do not stand for any man questioning me as to why I
should do this or that, and I certainly do not stand for any human being
in the world speaking to me as you are doing."

"You know that you are in my power," said Poltavo, viciously. "Are you
aware that I could raise my finger and tumble your precious plot into
the dust?"

"There are many things I know," said Farrington, "and if you knew them
too you would keep a civil tongue in your head. Sit down. What is the
trouble?"

"Why did you leave that instruction in your will? That Doris was to
marry this infernal Doughton?"

"For a very good reason."

"Explain the reason!" stormed the angry man.

"I shall do nothing so absurd," smiled Farrington, crookedly; "it is
enough when I say I want this girl's happiness. Don't you realize," he
went on rapidly, "that the only thing I have in my life, that is at all
clean, or precious, or worth while, is my affection for my niece? I want
to see her happy; I know that her happiness lies with Doughton."

"You are mad," snarled the other; "the girl is half in love with me."

"With you," Farrington's eyes narrowed; "that is absolutely impossible."

"Why impossible?" demanded Poltavo loudly; "why impossible?" He thumped
the table angrily.

"For many reasons," said Farrington. "First, because you are unworthy to
be her under-gardener, much less her husband. You are, forgive my
frankness, a blackguard, a thief,