So far, the scent seemed a warm one. Bellamy, to give him his assumed name, was born of an English mother, and, in marked contrast to his brother, betrayed very little of the foreigner in his appearance. He spoke English with a perfect accent. He had started his career as a money-lender, his operations, which were on a small scale, being confined chiefly to his compatriots. He next blossomed out, in conjunction with a couple of scoundrels of the same kidney, into a promoter of small and shady concerns. Success attended his efforts, and he then flew at higher game. But although he amassed money he was never connected with a single flourishing company. He made thousands out of his victims, but they never saw a penny of their money back until just at the end. And at this point Smeaton came to the trial at which Monkton had appeared and obtained a verdict for the restitution of the sums acquired by fraudulent misrepresentation. Although only a civil action, the evidence against Bellamy was so damaging that a criminal prosecution was bound to follow. This he himself recognised, with the result that within twenty-four hours after the verdict had been given he escaped from England under an assumed name. Five years later he was convicted in America, and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment, under this assumed name. At the trial it was conclusively proved that he was the same man, Ivan Bolinski, alias Bellamy, who had previously figured in the English Courts, and been driven from the pursuit of his nefarious occupation by the skill and eloquence of Monkton. He was tracked through a series of wanderings in different countries, where no doubt he still pursued his profession of _chevalier d'industrie_, although he seemed during that period to have escaped the active interference of justice till about five years ago. At that date he was living at a small village in Cornwall, either on his private means, or perhaps on money allowed him by his brother. Against this brother, so far as his commercial career was concerned, nothing of a suspicious nature was known. Here Smeaton came to a _cul-de-sac_. At that date Ivan Bolinski was living in this remote Cornish village, under the name of Charlton. Twenty years or so had elapsed since, in a moment of burning hatred, he had penned that threatening letter to the man who had brought to an abrupt close his nefarious career in this country. To that remote fishing hamlet went Smeaton. He found the quaint little house which had sheltered Bellamy; which he hoped still sheltered him. The door was opened by an elderly woman. "I have come to inquire about a man named Charlton who came to live here five years ago," he said, going to the point at once. She was evidently an honest creature who knew nothing of what was going on in the big world outside her little corner of earth. "Please come in, sir. A gentleman of that name came to lodge here about that time."