Petroff smiled happily.
"It's the first I've heard of it," he murmured.
"I fancied, sir, that you might have been celebrating the appointment already," was the grave response. "We shall, however, be honoured if you will join us in a little refreshment. Our house is close at hand."
"Certainly, my friends. I was going to have a drink when those rude policemen interfered just now."
As the old man spoke the cab drew up at the door of a handsome building. The next moment Petroff found himself being ushered into a beautifully-furnished room. Here the first thing upon which his eyes fell was a sideboard covered with bottles and glasses.
"How perfectly lovely!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands in ecstasy. "You don't know how thirsty I am. But what house is this?"
"It is your house, general."
The bootmaker's eyes blinked.
"Who's a general?" he demanded, truculently. "I won't have you make fun of me."
The senior of the two officers bowed deferentially.