He touched the spring and the case flew open, revealing the likeness of a young girl of exquisite beauty. “Nannie Davenport! I’ll wager a ten-dollar note,” he ejaculated, in a breathless tone. The face was a pure oval, crowned with a wealth of hair that was twined in a massive coronet about the small, beautifully-shaped head. The eyes, Everet felt sure, must have been a deep, dark blue, and their expression was lovely beyond description; the nose was small and straight, with delicate nostrils, the mouth full and sweet, with a slight smile just curving the tender lips. “What a bewitching little fairy she must have been. No wonder Robert Dale buried himself here and ate his heart out with grief and jealousy at losing her. Poor old man! I reckon I know something of your feelings, but I shall never sit tamely down and bear it. I’ll conquer or die in the struggle,” he concluded, between his set teeth. Then he grew deadly pale. “Perhaps he didn’t give up either until after she was married,” he said, “and then he couldn’t help himself. Bah! Gladys Huntress shall never marry Geoffrey Dale!” He shook himself impatiently, as if these reflections were too painful and disagreeable to dwell upon, closed the miniature with a snap, and turned his attention to the package that he had also found. He carefully untied the tape that bound it, removed the wrapper, and several certificates, representing a large amount of bank stock, fell out. Examining them closely, Everet found that they were dated several years previous to his own birth, and all were made out in the name of Annie Dale. “Good gracious! she was his heiress!” he exclaimed, in amazement. “The old chap had to give in at last. He loved that woman to the death, though he was too proud to show it by helping her while she lived, and so left his money to her child. “Let me see,” he went on; “these are dated just about the time the girl’s mother died, I should judge, or a little before; so it is evident he did not mean she should have anything until he was gone. How strange! these papers have lain here all these years and no one the wiser for it, while, of course, the stock has been accumulating all that time. It is remarkable that the directors of the banks represented have not taken measures to find the holder of the certificates. Possibly they have, and failed to do so. I wonder father has not been applied to; but, then, Robert Dale was such a secretive character, he may never have revealed his residence, and it would have been a very easy matter to give orders to let the stock accumulate until called for.” He fell to musing again over his wonderful discovery, until all at once he gave a violent start, and a vivid flush mounted to his brow. “Blast it!” he muttered, “if my theory is correct all this money belongs to Geoffrey Dale. What in thunder am I going to do about it, anyway?” CHAPTER XXIII. EVERET MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.