y courtship."

"You did not tell me about that," said T. B.

"There is little to tell," she said, with a weary gesture; "it was this
mysterious blackmailer who terrified me, and to whose machinations I
ascribe George Doughton's discovery, for now I know that he was told of
my past, and was told by Montague Fallock. He demanded impossible sums.
I gave him as much as I could, almost ruined myself to keep this
blackmailer at bay, but all to no purpose."

She rose and paced the room.

"I have not finished with Montague Fallock," she said.

She turned her white face to the detective, and he saw a hard gleam in
her eye.

"There is much that I could tell you, Mr. Smith, which would enable you
perhaps to bring to justice the most dastardly villain that has ever
walked the earth."

"May I suggest," said T. B. gently, "that you place me in possession of
those facts?"

She smiled, implying a negative.

"I have my own plans for avenging the murder of my lover and the ruin of
my life," she said hardly. "When Montague Fallock dies, I would rather
he died by my hand."

CHAPTER X

Count Poltavo, a busy man of affairs in these days, walked up the stairs
of the big block of flats in which he had his modest dwelling with a
little smile upon his lips and a sense of cheer in his heart. There were
many reasons why this broken adventurer, who had arrived in London only
a few months before with little more than his magnificent wardrobe,
should feel happy. He had been admitted suddenly into the circle of the
elect. Introductions had been found which paved a way for further
introductions. He was the confidential adviser of the most beautiful
woman in London, was the trusted of aristocrats. If there was a wrathful
and suspicious young newspaper man obviously and undisguisedly thirsting
for his blood that was not a matter which greatly affected the Count. It
had been his good fortune to surprise the secret of the late Mr.
Farrington; by the merest of chances he had happened upon the true
financial position of this alleged millionaire; had discovered him to
be a swindler and in league, so he guessed, with the mysterious Montague
Fallock. All this fine position which Farrington had built up was a
veritable house of cards. It remained now for the Count to discover how
far Farrington's affection for his niece had stayed his hand in his
predatory raid upon the cash balances of his friends and relatives.
Anyway, the Count thought,