LATE AT night even well-connected millionaires get lonely. And like ordinary people, their loneliness may eventually prompt them to flick through the unmentionable back pages of the newspaper — the lonely hearts columns — or log on to their computers and reluctantly find out about this internet dating craze they’ve read all about but never dared try.

Sooner or later, it’s likely that they will place an ad and love, or something purporting to be love, will blossom. It was in this way that the late Horace Hagedorn, the tycoon founder of the plant food Miracle-Gro, met his wife-to-be (he was 70); that Lord Warleigh of Plymouth attempted (but ultimately failed) to find someone with whom to share his 71-room Georgian mansion; and how the entrepreneur Chris Matthews tracked down two attractive females to join him on races aboard his £5 million yacht.

It was by advertising in the personal columns of the Guardian newspaper that Michael Morton arranged a string of affairs after his wife, Gracia, went missing in mysterious circumstances in 1997. This week Morton received a seven-year sentence for manslaughter but, despite repeated allegations about Morton’s part in Gracia’s death circulating in the press throughout the intervening eight years, Morton had no shortage of love overtures from enthusiastic would-be lovers. His secret? Every time he placed an advertisement he lied: about his name, about his age and about his occupation, although he stopped short of lying about his quite considerable wealth.

“Placing advertisements in newspapers was one of his methods of securing contacts up until and even during the trial,” said Detective Chief Superintendent Hamish Campbell, who was in charge of the case.

“I know that Morton wasn’t using his real name because of all the press reports around about the allegations surrounding the death of his wife.”

Doubts over Morton’s innocence may have made it difficult for him to find receptive female companions among his immediate circle of friends, said Campbell, so he resorted instead to seducing strangers who knew nothing about his background:

“Not once did anyone come forward to support this man and say what a monstrous allegation so in that sense I think the people who knew him understood exactly what had gone on,” said Campbell.

“People like Morton — those with criminal convictions or those facing a trial — really can’t afford to use their real names in personal columns or on the internet as information concerning them will be circulating all over the place. I think it’s fair to say that the women he met through the small ads were not aware of the kind of person he was.”

This is not the first time that a man has deliberately misreprented himself in pursuit of love or sex. Indeed a small amount of fibbing is quite acceptable in most personal ads, be it the “occasional smoker” who is in fact the “occasional non-smoker” or the “statuesque” female who turns out to be built like a crane. But Morton went further. One woman who met him on the internet last year told The Times: “Michael was controlling and very domineering and I don’t think he is capable of having a relationship which isn’t strictly on his terms. If you had met Michael through friends, this fact would be apparent. But because I didn’t know anything about his background, our friendship had no context. I had to rely on my instincts alone, which just wasn’t sufficient as I later found out. He was tall, well-spoken and very confident — of course I had no way of knowing he had a violent streak.”

A decade ago, dating sites were the preserve of a savvy and predominatly gay clientele. Now one Briton in five happily admits to having placed personal advertisements, encouraged in part by high profile success stories. After the unexpected break-up of her marriage to the former Foreign Secretary, Margaret Cook encouraged a generation of divorcées to go online after she wrote enthusiastically about the new boyfriend she had met through the dating agency, Club Sirius. Cook had previously tried lonely hearts columns despite her initial reservations, which “made me squirm with shame”.

But with the growth of such sites on the internet — the agency Beautiful People, for example, caters only for Britain’s physical elite — questions are being asked about their security.

Sites that boast introductions to “literally thousands of total strangers” may be losing some of their initial appeal. Gordon Smith, an online dating specialist, says that such sites fail to address the crucial issue of trust: “The search engine method of locating partners on dating sites totally fails to address the extremely important issue of trust,” he said. “How do you know if all or any of the strange faces peering at you from the search results can be trusted? Take a quick look at the terms and conditions and disclaimers of the dating site and you won't be reassured, as they nearly all explicitly disclaim any responsibility for showing only people who are trustworthy and honest. That's why some dating sites have a reputation for sleaze.

“If you introduce me to a friend of a friend, and I trust you, some of that trust will transfer to the new friend. The search form totally fails to emulate this.”