than you. Literary men must never expect to be millionaires."

"Don't tell me that--I know it!" and Angus laughed. "Besides, I don't
want to be a millionaire--wouldn't be one for the world! By the way, you
remember that man I told you about--the old chap my first love was going
to marry--David Helmsley?"

Helmsley did not move a muscle.

"Yes--I remember!" he answered quietly.

"Well, the papers say he's dead."

"Oh! the papers say he's dead, do they?"

"Yes. It appeared that he went abroad last summer,--it is thought that
he went to the States on some matters of business--and has not since
been heard of."

Helmsley kept an immovable face.

"He may possibly have got murdered for his money," went on Angus
reflectively--"though I don't see how such an act could benefit the
murderer. Because his death wouldn't stop the accumulation of his
millions, which would eventually go to his heir."

"Has he an heir?" enquired Helmsley placidly.

"Oh, he's sure to have left his vast fortune to somebody," replied Reay.
"He had two sons, so I was told--but they're dead. It's possible he may
have left everything to Lucy Sorrel."

"Ah yes! Quite possible!"

"Of course," went on Reay, "it's only the newspapers that say he's
dead--and there never was a newspaper yet that could give an absolutely
veracious account of anything. His lawyers--a famous firm, Vesey and
Symonds,--have written a sort of circular letter to the press stating
that the report of his death is erroneous--that he is travelling for
health's sake, and on account of a desire for rest and privacy, does not
wish his whereabouts to be made publicly known."

Helmsley smiled.

"I knew I might trust Vesey!" he thought. Aloud he said--

"Well, I should believe the gentleman's lawyers more than the newspaper
reporters. Wouldn't you?"

"Of course. I shouldn't have taken the least interest in the rumour, if
I hadn't been once upon a time in love with Lucy Sorrel. Because if the
old man is really dead and has done nothing in the way of providing for
her, I wonder what she will do?"

"Go out charing!" said Helmsley drily. "Many a better woman than you
have described her to be, has had to come to that."

There was a silence. Presently Helmsley spoke again in a quiet voice--

"I think, Mr. Reay, you should tell all your mind to Miss Mary."

Angus started nervously.

"Do you, David? Why?"

"Why?--well--because--" Here Helmsley spoke very gently--"because I
beli