Some thought came to him which was not quite agreeable, for he frowned.
"Poltavo, of course, knows," he went on meditatively. "Poltavo is one with us."
"He has been a valuable member," ventured Grayson.
"Had been," said the other, emphasising the first word.
"What do you mean? Was it not he who established our stations and got the right men to work 'em? Why, he has got the whole thing at his fingers' ends."
"Yes," agreed Baggin, with a wry smile. "And he has us at his fingers' ends also—where are our friends?—the other matter I have arranged without calling in Poltavo."
"They are returning to-night." The fat man shifted uncomfortably. "You were saying about this T. B. fellow—he is dead?"
"Not dead, but nearly; Poltavo saw him carried into the house, and a little later an ambulance came flying to the door. He saw him carried out. Later he enquired at the hospital—sent in his card, if you please—and found that Smith was shot through the shoulder."
Grayson lowered his voice.
"Is Poltavo——" He did not complete his sentence.