"And Frank Doughton is the heir to the Tollington millions, as his father was before him. All the necessary proofs to establish his identity will be discovered in the sealed envelope which the lawyer holds, and which is inscribed 'C.'" The letter was signed "Gregory Farrington." The lawyer was the first to recover his self-possession; his practical mind went straight to the business at hand. "There is such an envelope 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 him. He left immediately for town, and picked up Ela at luncheon at the Fritz Hotel, where the detective had his headquarters.