When she did so, a dark-complexioned man with black hair and gloomy, desperate looking clothes, came out of the fireplace where he had been concealed and stated: "Aha! I have you in my power at last, Bertram D. Snooper. Gladys Vavasour-Smith shall be mine. I am in the possession of secrets that not a soul in the world suspects. I have papers to prove that Bertram Snooper is the heir to the Tom Bean estate, [12] and I have discovered that Gladys' grandfather who sawed wood for the Hornsby's was also a cook in Major Rhoads Fisher's command during the war. Therefore, the family repudiate her, and she will marry me in order to drag their proud name down in the dust. Ha, ha, ha!" [Footnote 12: An estate famous in Texas legal history. It took many, many years for adjustment and a large part of the property was, of course, consumed as expenses of litigation.] As the reader has doubtless long ago discovered, this man was no other than Henry R. Grasty. Mr. Grasty then proceeded to gloat some more, and then with a sardonic laugh left for New York. * * * * * * Fifteen years have elapsed. Of course, our readers will understand that this is only supposed to the the case. It really took less than a minute to make the little stars that represent an interval of time. We could not afford to stop a piece in the middle and wait fifteen years before continuing it. We hope this explanation will suffice. We are careful not to create any wrong impressions. Gladys Vavasour-Smith and Henry R. Grasty stood at the marriage altar. Mr. Grasty had evidently worked his rabbit's foot successfully, although he was quite a while in doing so. Just as the preacher was about to pronounce the fatal words on which he would have realized ten dollars and had the laugh on Mr. Grasty, the steeple of the church fell off and Bertram D. Snooper entered. The preacher fell to the ground with a dull thud. He could ill afford to lose ten dollars. He was hastily removed and a cheaper one secured. Bertram D. Snooper held a _Statesman_ in his hand. "Aha!" he said, "I thought I would surprise you. I just got in this morning. Here is a paper noticing my arrival." He handed it to Henry R. Grasty. Mr. Grasty looked at the paper and turned deadly pale. It was dated three weeks after Mr. Snooper's arrival. "Foiled again!" he hissed. "Speak, Bertram D. Snooper," said Gladys, "why have you come between me and Henry?" "I have just discovered that I am the sole heir to Tom Bean's estate and am worth two million dollars." With a glad cry Gladys threw herself in Bertram's arms. Henry R. Grasty drew from his breast pocket a large tin box and opened it, took therefrom 467 pages of closely written foolscap. "What you say is true, Mr. Snooper, but I ask you to read that," he said, handing it to Bertram Snooper. Mr. Snooper had no sooner read the document than he uttered a piercing shriek and bit off a large chew of tobacco. "All is lost," he said.