as he fitted a tiny key into the lock of his
flat, he was in a commanding position. He had all the winning cards in
his hand, and if the prizes included so delectable a reward as Doris
Gray might be, the Count, a sentimental if unscrupulous man, was
perfectly satisfied. He walked through his sitting-room to the bedroom
beyond and stood for a moment before the long mirror. It was a trick of
Count Poltavo to commune with himself, and when he was rallied on this
practice, suggestive of vanity to the uninitiated, he confirmed rather
than disabused that criticism by protesting that there was none whom he
could trust with such absence of fear of consequence as his own bright
worthy image.

He had reason for the smile which curved his thin lips. Every day he was
making progress which placed Doris Gray more and more, if not in his
power, at least under his influence.

He lived alone without any servants save for the old woman who came
every morning to tidy his flat, and when the bell rang as he stood
before the mirror, he answered it himself without any thought as to the
importance of the summons. For Count Poltavo was not above taking in the
milk or chaffering with tradesmen over the quality of a cabbage. It was
necessary that he must jealously husband his slender resources until
fate placed him in possession of a larger and a more generous fortune
than that which he now possessed. He opened the door, and took a step
back, then with a little bow:

"Come in, Mr. Doughton," he said.

Frank Doughton strode across the tiny hall, waited until the Count had
closed the door, and opened another, ushering the visitor into his
study.

"To what am I indebted for the honour of this visit?" asked Poltavo, as
he pushed forward a chair.

"I wanted to see you on a matter which deeply affects you and me," said
the young man briskly, even rudely.

Count Poltavo inclined his head. He recognized all the disagreeable
portents, but he was not in any way abashed or afraid. He had had
experience of many situations less pleasant than this threatened to be
and had played his part worthily.

"I can give you exactly a quarter of an hour," he said, looking at his
watch; "at the end of that period I must leave for Brakely Square. You
understand there is to be a reading of the will of our departed friend,
and----"

"I know all about that," interrupted Frank, roughly; "you are not the
only person who has been invited to that pleasant function."