velope in my office," he said, "given to me by Mr.
Farrington with strict instructions that it was not to be handed to his
executors or to any person until definite instructions
arrived--instructions which would be accompanied by unmistakable proof
as to the necessity for its being handed over. I congratulate you, Mr.
Doughton."

He turned and shook hands with the bewildered Frank, who had been
listening like a man in a dream; the heir to the Tollington millions;
he, the son of George Doughton, and all the time he had been looking
for--what? For his own grandmother!

It came on him all of a rush. He knew now that all his efforts, all his
search might have been saved, if he had only realized the Christian name
of his father's mother.

He had only the dimmest recollection of the placid-faced lady who had
died whilst he was at school; he had never associated in his mind this
serene old lady, who had passed away only a few hours before her
beloved husband, with the Annie for whom he had searched. It made him
gasp--then he came to earth quickly as he realized that his success had
come with the knowledge of his wife's financial ruin. He looked at her
as she stood there--it was too vast a shock for her to realize at once.

He put his arm about her shoulder, and Poltavo, twirling his little
moustache, looked at the two through his lowered lids with an ugly smile
playing at the corner of his mouth.

"It is all right, dear," said Frank soothingly; "your money is
secure--it was only a temporary use he made of it."

"It is not that," she said, with a catch in her throat; "it is the
feeling that my uncle trapped you into this marriage. I did not mind his
dissipating my own fortune; the money is nothing to me. But he has
caught you by a trick, and he has used me as a bait." She covered her
face with her hands.

In a few moments she had composed herself; she spoke no other word, but
suffered herself to be led out of the building into the waiting cab.
Poltavo watched them drive off with that fierce little smile of his, and
turned to the lawyer.

"A clever man, Mr. Farrington," he said, in a bitter tone of reluctant
admiration.

The lawyer looked at him steadily.

"His Majesty's prisons are filled with men who specialize in that kind
of cleverness," he said, drily, and left Poltavo without another word.

CHAPTER XVII

T. B. Smith was playing a round of golf at Walton Heath, when the news
was telephoned through to