Frank hesitated. He desired most of all to be loyal to the man who, with all his faults, had treated him with such kindness.
“Well, for one thing,” he said, “he gave me a jolly good commission, a commission which might easily have brought me in a hundred thousand pounds.”
T. B.’s interest was awakened.
“What was that?” he asked.
In as few words as possible Frank told the story of the search for the heir to the Tollington millions.
“Of course,” he said, with an apologetic smile, “I was not the man for the job—he should have given it to you. I am afraid I am not cut out for a detective, but he was very keen on my taking the matter in hand.”
T. B. bit his lips thoughtfully.
“I know something of the Tollington millions,” he said; “they were left by the timber king of America who died without issue, and whose heir or heirs were supposed to be in this country. We have had communications about the matter.”
He frowned again as he conjured to his mind all the data of this particular case.
“Of course, Farrington was one of the trustees; he was a friend of old Tollington. That money would not be involved,” he said, half to himself, “because the four other trustees are men of integrity holding high positions in the financial world of the United States. Thank you for telling me; I will look up the matter, and if I can be of any assistance to you in carrying out Mr. Farrington’s wishes you may be sure that I will.”
There was a stir at the other end of the room. With a preliminary cough, the lawyer rose, the papers in his hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, and a silence fell upon the room, “it is my duty to read to you the terms of the late Mr. Farrington’s will, and since it affects a great number of people in this room, I shall be glad if you will retain the deepest silence.”
There was a murmur of agreement all round, and the lawyer began reading the preliminary and conventional opening of the legal document. The will began with one or two small bequests to charitable institutions, and the lawyer looking over his glasses said pointedly:
“I need hardly say that there will be no funds available from the estate for carrying out the wishes of the deceased gentleman in this respect, since they are all contingent upon Mr. Farrington possessing a certain sum at his death which I fear he did not possess. The will goes on to say,” he continued reading:
“ ’Knowing that my dear niece and ward is amply provided for, I can do no more than leave her an expression of my trust and love, and it may be taken as my last and final request that she marries with the least possible delay the person whom it is my most earnest desire she should take as a husband.’ ”
Two people in the audience felt a sudden cold thrill of anticipation.
“ ‘That person,’ ” continued the lawyer, solemnly, “ ‘is my good friend, Frank Doughton.’ ”
There was a gasp from Frank; a startled exclamation from the girl. Poltavo went red and white and his eyes glowed. T. B. Smith, to whom this portion of the will was known, watched the actors keenly. He saw the bewildered face of the girl, the rage in Poltavo’s eyes, and the blank astonishment on the face of Frank as the lawyer went on:
“ ‘Knowing the insecurity of present-day investments, and seized with the fear that the fortune entrusted to my keeping might be dissipated by one of those strange accidents of finance with which we are all acquainted, I have placed the whole of her fortune, to the value of eight hundred thousand pounds, in a safe at the London Safe Deposit, and in the terms of the power vested in me as trustee by her late father I have instructed my lawyers to hand her the key and the authority to open the safe on the day she marries the aforesaid Frank Doughton. And if she should refuse or through any cause or circumstance decline to carry out my wishes in this respect, I direct that the fortune contained therein shall be withheld from her for the space of five years as from the date of my death.’ ”
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
