ad speculated heavily during the last few weeks--he has lost
everything, every penny of his own and his ward's fortune. Last night,
in a fit of despair, he ended his life. Even his chief clerk had no
knowledge of his transactions."

Doughton looked at him in a kind of stupefaction. Was it of Farrington
the man was talking such drivel? Farrington, who only the week before
had told him in high gratification that within the last month he had
added a cool million to his ward's marriage portion. Farrington, who
had, but two days ago, hinted mysteriously of a gigantic financial coup
in the near future. And now all that fortune was lost, and the loser was
lying at the bottom of the Thames!

"I think I must be going mad," he muttered. "Mr. Farrington wasn't the
kind to kill himself."

"It is not as yet known to the public, but I think I may tell you, since
you were a friend of Farrington's, that Mr. T. B. Smith has been given
charge of the matter. He will probably wish to know your address. And in
the meantime, if you run across anything----"

"Certainly! I will let you know. Smith is an able man, of course."
Doughton gave the number of his chambers, and retreated hastily, glad
that the man had questioned him no further.

He found his cab and flung himself wearily against the cushions. And now
for Doris!

But Doris was not visible. Lady Dinsmore met him in the morning room,
her usually serene countenance full of trouble. He took her hand in
silence.

"It is good of you, my dear Frank, to come so quickly. You have heard
all?"

He nodded.

"How is Doris?"

She sank into a chair and shook her head.

"The child is taking it terribly hard! Quite tearless, but with a face
like frozen marble! She refused to believe the news, until she saw his
own writing. Then she fainted."

Lady Dinsmore took out her lace handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

"Doris," she continued, in a moment, "has sent for Count Poltavo."

Frank stared at her.

"Why?" he demanded.

Lady Dinsmore shook her head.

"I cannot say, definitely," she replied, with a sigh. "She is a silent
girl. But I fancy she feels that the Count knows something--she believes
that Gregory met with foul play."

Frank leaned forward.

"My own idea!" he said, quietly.

Lady Dinsmore surveyed him with faint, good-humoured scorn.

"You do not know Gregory," she said, after a pause.

"But--I do not follow you! If it was not murder it must have been
suicide. But why