“She was a very handsome woman, if I may judge from a photograph of her found in the tin case, but looked like one accustomed to rule, and who would not hesitate to administer wholesome correction to her spouse.
“Assisted into a carriage which was waiting, I had the satisfaction of seeing the baron and Orloff brought down in handcuffs, the baron regarding me with a sweet smile, and Orloff scowling on me like a fiend. I did not prosecute, for they were so well known to the police as forgers that there was evidence enough for the Russian Embassy to procure a conviction and a sentence of ten years’ penal servitude; and in due time I recovered, and dismissed the matter from my mind.
“But I had not heard the last of it. About twelve months after the trial and condemnation of the baron and his friend, there came one night a timid knock at my office door, and my clerk (for I had such a luxury then) ushered in what, at first sight, seemed to be a moving bundle of rags.
“Strictly speaking, the bundle of rags insisted on seeing me, and ushered itself in, in spite of all remonstrances.
“It came and stood before me, and resolved itself into the semblance of a man—a man lean, haggard, sunken-eyed, ragged, and dirty, but with a face something like my own; and without putting a question I knew that I stood face to face with Carl Brunton, and I addressed the rags by that name.
“‘I took that name,’ the poor shivering thing replied, ‘but my name is—but no matter. May I speak to you?”
“‘Yes, go on.’
“‘Will you give me some drink first? I have had none to-day, and feel delirium tremens coming on. Oh, how cold it is, and how I shiver!’
“I sent the clerk for some brandy, which he took raw, and with shaking hand held out the glass for more.
“I imagine it is Mr. Moss you want to see, is it not? If so, you will find him to-morrow, at ten o’clock.’