In his agitation he grew a little incoherent.
T. B. Smith might have walked on discreetly, leaving Moss to transact his business in quiet and peace. Indeed, the young man's light-blue eyes pleaded for this indulgence; but the gentleman from Scotland Yard was singularly obtuse this morning.
"You don't want to meet him," urged Mr. Moss. "He's not in your line, sir; he's a gentleman."
"I think you're very rude, Mr. Moss," said T. B. Smith, and waited, whilst Moss and client met.
"Permit me," said Moss, with all the grace he could summon at a moment's notice, "to introduce you to a friend of mine—name of Smith—in the Government."
The stranger bowed and offered a gloved hand.
"Er——" said T. B., hesitant. "I did not quite catch your name?"
"Count Poltavo," said Mr. Moss defiantly; "a friend of mine an' a client."
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, count. I have met you somewhere."
The count bowed.