the former, he opened it, and readjusting his glasses, read it through slowly and carefully, breaking off several times to make notes of dates and names therein set forth.
"No," he exclaimed at last, as he laid the paper aside; "we must first establish the identity, then everything will be straightforward. It all seems remarkably clear."
Leaning back in his writing chair, his features relaxed into a self-satisfied smile.
"Some one must benefit," he observed aloud, his face again assuming a thoughtful look. "There is such a thing as murder through revenge. Now, I wonder how I should fare if"—
The door suddenly opened, and a clerk appeared bearing a card.
"Show him in," commanded the solicitor, after glancing at it.
A moment later Hugh Trethowen entered.
Dressed fashionably, with a flower in his coat, he looked spruce and gay. The settled look of despair had given place to a pleasant smile, and as he advanced with elastic tread and greeted the old gentleman in his usual easy, familiar manner, it would have been hard to believe that twelve hours ago he had been on the point of taking his life.
"Well, Graham," he began, as he put down his hat, and took the chair opposite the solicitor; "now, what is it you want with me ? I've been breathing an atmosphere of debts and duns lately, so, if any of my creditors have been so misguided as to put their claim into your hands, I may as well give you the tip at once that I'm not worth sixpence."
"Creditors are out of the question, Mr. Hugh," the old solicitor replied, smiling, and leaning back in his chair.
