She listened to every word intently.
"Monty," he said reflectingly, "was a good old sort in a way, and I had an idea, somehow, that his daughter would turn out something like the man himself, and at heart Monty was all right.

I didn't know who she was or her name--Monty was always precious close, but I had the address of a firm of lawyers who knew all about her.

I called there the other day and saw an old chap who questioned and cross-questioned me until I wasn't sure whether I was on my head or my heels, and, after all, he told me to call again this afternoon for her address.

I told him of course that Monty died a pauper and he'd no share of our concession to will away, but I'd done so well that I thought I'd like to make over a trifle to her--in fact I'd put away 10,000 pounds worth of Bekwando shares for her.

I called this afternoon, and do you know, Miss Wendermott, the young lady declined to have anything to say to me--wouldn't let me know who she was that I might have gone and talked this over in a friendly way with her.