The millionaire picked it up and his eager eyes discerned a pencil mark at a certain paragraph. He devoured the falsehood eagerly and almost out of breath. The young sport watched him like a cat. “Thank Heaven!” cried Perry Lamont, as he shot a glance at Claude and dropped into his chair. “It suits you, I see.” “Suits me?” was the reply. “You know it does.” A momentary silence followed between father and son, and then the elder Lamont said: “Did you have any trouble?” “Not much.” “Did he suspect you?” “Yes, he did that; but I had to go on, you know.” “I know. He died for sure?” It was a singular question, as if the speaker half suspected the truth, and Claude’s heart seemed to find a lodgment in his throat. “What does the paper say?” cried Claude, a little irritated. “It records the death of the notorious George Richmond, doesn’t it?” “It does.” “That’s sufficient, I think. Do you want to see the--body?” “My God, no!” “Nor the burial certificate? They’ll probably hold a post mortem, but we’re safe all the same. It’s all right, I assure you. There’s no danger, but it took work.” “I’m proud of you, Claude. Now, what about the papers?” “I’ve got them, too.” “Here?” “Yes,” and Claude dived one hand into an inner pocket and drew forth a package, at sight of which Lamont’s eyes seemed to bulge from his head. “There they are,” he resumed, throwing the packet upon the table. The millionaire snatched at it and opened the package. He found the documents forged by George Richmond, and opened the first one. “Heavens! what have we escaped?” he ejaculated. “It was a very narrow escape. Did you read these papers, Claude?” “No, never thought of that. I don’t care to know what the old hag was.” “Great Cæsar! these papers would have destroyed us,” and Perry Lamont looked white. “She had it in her power to break me up, and I don’t see why she didn’t exercise it. Why, they’re worth a million almost.” For some time Perry Lamont went over the papers in silence and did not look up again till he had reached the end of the last sheet. Claude smiled inwardly all the time. He knew that George had done his work well. “Now, here they go,” said Lamont, senior, at last, as he moved toward the grate where a fire burned. Claude saw his father hold the documents over the fire a few moments and then drop them into it. As they caught fire the door opened and Opal came in. Her face was white and she was agitated. Perry Lamont pointed in silence at the hearth and looked toward his daughter. Opal sprang to the fire and bent forward. “Did you get it?” she asked, looking at her brother. Claude said nothing. “Did you have any trouble?” “Some.” “You paid him well for that service, didn’t you?” she inquired of her father. “We had an understanding.” “That’s good. It saved us. We are no longer in the toils of the secret-keeper. Now no one can say that Mother Flintstone was our near kin.”