"I wish to see Mr. Moole," replied Poltavo. He stood at the door of the Secret House, and after a brief scrutiny the big-faced doctor admitted him, closing the door behind him.
"Tell me, what do you want?" he asked. He had seen the curious gesture that Poltavo had made—the pass sign which had unbarred the entrance to many strange people.
"I want to see Farrington!" replied Poltavo, coolly.
"Farrington!" Fall's brow knit in a puzzled frown.
"Farrington," repeated Poltavo, impatiently. "Do not let us have any of this nonsense, Fall. I want to see him on a matter of urgency. I am Poltavo."
"I know just who you are," said Fall, calmly, "but why you should come here under the impression that the late Mr. Farrington is an inmate of this establishment I do not understand. We are a lunatic asylum, not a mortuary," he said, with heavy humour.
Still, he led the way upstairs to the drawing-room on the first floor.
"What is the trouble?" he asked, as he closed the door behind him.
Poltavo chose to tell the story of his identification by T. B. Smith rather than the real object of his journey. Fall listened in silence.