25 THE LOST INHERITANCE “My uncle,” said the man with the glass eye, “was what you might call a hemi-semi-demi millionaire. He was worth about a hundred and twenty thousand. Quite. And he left me all his money.” I glanced at the shiny sleeve of his coat, and my eye travelled up to the frayed collar. “Every penny,” said the man with the glass eye, and I caught the active pupil looking at me with a touch of offence. “I’ve never had any windfalls like that,” I said, trying to speak enviously and propitiate him. “Even a legacy isn’t always