"I understand that you are interested in the cigarette industry," remarked Klostivitch. "Do you bear letters of introduction from the head of our London house?"
"Cigarette industry?" repeated the Sub. "I never said so. We called at the request of a Mr. Mindiggle, of the town of Otherport."
The Russian shook his head.
"I know nothing of a person of that name," he remarked bluntly. "Perhaps you can give further particulars?"
He fixed his visitor with a piercing glance from his deep-set eyes and awaited his reply.
Fordyce made no attempt to answer until he had thought out a new plan of action, occasioned by Klostivitch's disclaimer.
"If you do not know Mr. Mindiggle there is nothing further to be said," he remarked. "We must have made a mistake."
"Quite possibly," rejoined the other dryly.
"However, I might add," continued Fordyce, rising and holding up a small leather bag, "that the gentleman whose identity you disclaim entrusted me with a small parcel—of diamonds, I understand—to be given to you personally."
Without allowing the dummy packet out of his hands, the Sub allowed Klostivitch to read the address.