Poltavo shrugged his shoulders.
"Why?" insisted the man at the table.
"A slight matter of disagreement between myself and the admirable chief of police of Sans Sebastian," he said as airily as the other.
Again the figure nodded.
"If you had told me anything else, I should not have engaged you," he said.
"Why?" asked Poltavo in surprise.
"Because you are speaking the truth," said the other coolly. "Your matter of disagreement with the police in Sans Sebastian was over the missing of some money in the hotel where you were staying. The room happened to be next to yours and communicating, if one had the ingenuity to pick the lock of the door. Also your inability to pay the hotel bill hastened your departure."
"What an editor!" said the other admiringly, but without showing any signs of perturbation or embarrassment.
"It is my business to know something about everybody," said the editor. "By the way, you may call me Mr. Brown, and if at times I may seem absent-minded when I am so addressed you must excuse me, because it is not my name. Yes, you are the kind of man I want."
"It is remarkable that you should have found me," said Poltavo. "The cutting"—he indicated the newspaper clip—"was sent to me by an unknown friend."