There was another long silence. T. B. saw the change come over the face of Poltavo. From rage he had passed to wonder, from wonder to suspicion, and from suspicion to anger again. T. B. would have given something substantial to have known what was going on inside the mind of this smooth adventurer. Again the lawyer's voice insisted upon attention. "'To Frank Doughton,'" he read, "'I bequeath the sum of a thousand pounds to aid him in his search for the Tollington heir. To T. B. Smith, the assistant commissioner at Scotland Yard with whom I have had some acquaintance, and whose ability I hold in the highest regard, I leave the sum of a thousand pounds as a slight reward for his service to civilization, and I direct that on the day he discovers the most insidious enemy to society, Montague Fallock, he shall receive a further sum of one thousand pounds from the trustees of my estate.'" The lawyer looked up from his reading. "That again, Mr. Smith, is contingent upon certain matters." T. B. smiled. "I quite understand that," he said, drily, "though possibly you don't," he added under his breath. This was a portion of the will about which he knew nothing for the document had been executed but a few days before the tragedy which had deprived the world of Gregory Farrington. There were a few more paragraphs to read; certain jewelleries had been left to his dear friend Count Ernesto Poltavo, and the reading was finished. "I have only to say now," said the lawyer, as he carefully folded his glasses and put them away in his pocket, "that there is a very considerable sum of money at Mr. Farrington's bank. It will be for the courts to decide in how so far that money is to be applied to the liquidation of debts incurred by the deceased as director of a public company. That is to say, that it will be a question for the supreme judicature whether the private fortune of the late Mr. Farrington will be seized to satisfy his other creditors." There was a haze and a babble of talk. Poltavo crossed with quick steps to the lawyer, and for a moment they were engaged in quick conversation; then suddenly the adventurer turned and left the room. T. B. had seen the move and followed with rapid steps. He overtook the Count in the open doorway of the house. "A word with you, Count," he said, and they descended the steps together into the street. "The will was rather a surprise to you?" Count Poltavo was now all smooth equanimity. You might not have thought from his smooth face and his smile, and his gentle drawling tone, that he had been affected by the reading of this strange document. "It is a surprise, I confess," he said. "I do not understand my friend Farrington's action in regard to----" he hesitated. "In regard to Miss Gray," smiled T. B. Of a sudden the self-control of the man left him, and he turned with a snarling voice on the detective, but his wrath was not directed toward the cool man who stood before him.