"May I ask you a plain question?" he said harshly.
"Surely!"
"How much of this business do you know?"
The count permitted himself a smile. "Since this afternoon," he answered softly, "I know—all."
Baggin's face grew black with rage. "Thief! I knew it!" He stuttered in the intensity of his passion.
The count surveyed him dispassionately. "Wrath in, reason out," he murmured.
Grayson intervened again. "For my part," he declared, "I am heartily glad of it. Poltavo is one of us now, and can tell us what he thinks of the scheme. I have always wished for his opinion."
Baggin rose abruptly, and strode about the room. Plainly the man was in a great, almost uncontrollable passion. The veins on his temples stood out in knots, and his hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically. Presently he turned, mastering himself with a strong effort, and held out his hand. "I agree," he said in a constrained voice. "You are one of us, count." The two shook hands and resumed their chairs.
"And now," said Grayson, "tell us what you think of the scheme?"
The count hesitated for a minute. "Good," he said at length, "and bad! Admirable in the general plan, but absurd in some of the details."