which is somewhat disturbing, and that is with regard to his daughter Mabel. The testator has appointed some person of whom I have never heard—a man called Paolo Melandrini, an Italian, apparently living in Florence, to be her secretary and the manager of her affairs.”

“What!” I cried, amazed. “An Italian to be her secretary! Who is he?”

“A person with whom I am not acquainted; whose name, indeed, has never been mentioned to me by my client. He merely dictated it to me when I drafted the will.”

“But the thing’s absurd!” I exclaimed. “Surely you can’t let an unknown foreigner, who may be an adventurer for all we know, have control of all her money?”

“I fear there’s no help for it,” replied Leighton, gravely. “It is written here, and we shall be compelled to give notice to this man, whoever he is, of his appointment at a salary of five thousand pounds a year.”

“And will he really have control of her affairs?”

“Absolutely. Indeed, the whole estate is left to her on condition that she accepts this fellow as her secretary and confidential adviser.”

“Why, Blair must have been mad!” I exclaimed. “Has Mabel any knowledge of this mysterious Italian?”

“She has never heard of him.”

“Well, in that case, I think that, before he is informed of poor Blair’s death and the good fortune in store for him, we ought at least to find out who and what he is. We can in any case, keep a watchful eye on him, and see that he doesn’t trick Mabel out of her money.”

The lawyer sighed, wiped his glasses slowly, and said—

“He will have the entire management of everything, therefore it will be difficult to know what goes on, or how much he puts into his own pocket.”

“But whatever could possess Blair to insert such a mad clause as that? Didn’t you point out the folly of it?”

“I did.”

“And what did he say?”

“He reflected a few moments over my words, sighed, and then answered, ‘It is imperative, Leighton. I have no other alternative.’ Therefore from that I took it that he was acting under compulsion.”

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