Claude was not at home. Richmond would have started if he could have seen the woman who all the time was closely watching him. Bristol Clara, Carter’s friend, was on the alert, and, having seen him come in, was looking at him through the secret crack. All at once Richmond started up. “What a fool I am,” he said. “Why didn’t I think of it before? I forgot to look under the hearth--the very place an old woman like her would hide precious papers.” He threw a hasty glance toward the door and was about to quit the house when he heard a step. In another moment Claude Lamont stood before him. “I’ve been waiting for you,” said Richmond. “And I’ve been unavoidably detained. Couldn’t get here sooner. Well, have you got the papers?” Richmond produced his work and threw the bundle upon the table. Claude pounced upon it and ran over the documents. “This is good. I didn’t know it was in you,” he cried, looking up at Richmond. “I’ve been trained in more schools than one,” was the answer, and Claude looked away. “Does it suit?” asked Richmond. “Perfectly.” “Will it deceive the governor?” “Of course it will. Now you must vanish.” “Yes, I’m to ‘die’ to his satisfaction. I believe you can’t draw any more money till I’m out of the way and the ‘confession’ in your father’s hands.” “That’s the bargain.” “Well, I thought of that and dashed off this.” Another bit of paper fell on the table and Claude read: “FATAL ACCIDENT. “Last night at ten o’clock a man was seen to fall on the street near the Brussel Block, on Broadway. His companion, apparently frightened by his fall, hastened away, leaving his friend on the pavement. It was discovered that the stricken man was a well-known character named George Richmond, who of late has been subject to attacks of vertigo. The unfortunate man was conveyed from the spot by others who happened to know him, and taken to the rooms of a friend, where he died. Richmond once did time, but of late has not done anything that called for his arrest, though he was known as a shady character, liable to embark on some scheme that promised to add to his wealth, no matter how questionable the transaction.” “That’s good!” exclaimed Claude Lamont. “You’re dead--as dead as a doornail, and please have the kindness to keep this in view. I don’t think you could have done better. Now, what newspaper?” “I’ve made the proper arrangements. You can take it to the _Item_. It will cost one hundred to get it inserted, but that’s all right. It’s dirt cheap.” Claude placed the writing in his pocket and smiled. “It will hoodwink the old man nicely. He won’t want other ‘proof.’” “I thought not.” “I’ll see to that. Now I’ll attend to the matter. I understand that the item is to appear in but the one paper, and in but one copy at that.” “That’s it. Too promiscuous publishing might spoil our plans.” The two men arose and left the house.