"Now, Frank," she said, cheerily, indicating a chair opposite, "sit down, and let us take counsel together. And first of all,"--she pressed the girl's cold hand--"let me speak my strongest conviction. Gregory is not dead. Something tells me that he is safe and well." Doris turned her eyes to the young man wistfully. "You have heard something--later?" she asked. He shook his head. "There has been no time for fresh developments yet. Scotland Yard is in charge of the affair, and T. B. Smith has been put upon the case." She shuddered and covered her face with her hands. "He said he was going to arrest him--how strange and ghastly it all is!" she whispered. "I--I cannot get it out of my head. The dark river--my poor uncle--I can see him there--" She broke off. Lady Dinsmore looked helplessly across to the young man. It was at that moment that a servant brought a letter. Lady Dinsmore arched her eyebrows significantly. "Poltavo!" she murmured. Doris darted forward and took the letter from the salver. She broke the seal and tore out the contents, and seemed to comprehend the message at a glance. A little cry of joy escaped her. Her face, which had been pale, flushed a rosy hue. She bent to read it again, her lips parted. Her whole aspect breathed hope and assurance. She folded the note, slipped it into her bosom, and, without a word, walked from the room. Frank stared after her, white to the lips with rage and wounded love. Lady Dinsmore rose briskly to her feet. "Excuse me. Wait here!" she said, and rustled after her niece. Frank Doughton paced up and down the room distractedly, momentarily expecting her reappearance. Only a short half-hour ago, with Doris' head upon his breast, he had felt supremely happy; now he was plunged into an abyss of utter wretchedness. What were the contents of that brief note which had affected her so powerfully? Why should she secrete it with such care unless it conveyed a lover's assurance? His foot came into contact with a chair, and he swore under his breath. The servant, who had entered unobserved, coughed deprecatingly. "Her ladyship sends her excuses, sir," he said, "and says she will write you later." He ushered the young man to the outer door. Upon the top step Frank halted stiffly. He found himself face to face with Poltavo. The Count greeted him gravely. "A sad business!" he murmured. "You have seen the ladies? How does Miss Gray bear it? She is well?" Frank gazed at him darkly. "Your note recovered her!" he said, quietly. "Mine!" Surprise was in the Count's voice. "But I have not written. I am come in person." Frank's face expressed scornful incredulity. He lifted his hat grimly and descended the steps, and came into collision with a smiling, brown-faced man. "Mr. Smith!" he said, eagerly, "is there any news?" T. B. looked at him curiously. "The Thames police have picked up the body of a man bearing upon his person most of Mr. Farrington's private belongings."