"It was but natural," said a man with a thick beard at my right hand. "And now, most honored sir, how goes the cause in England?"
"Remarkably well," I answered.
"Has the great commissioner condescended to send a missive to the Solteff branch?" asked Petrokine.
"Nothing in writing," I replied.
"But he has spoken of it?"
"Yes; he said he had watched it with feelings of the liveliest satisfaction," I returned.
"'Tis well! 'tis well!" ran round the table.
I felt giddy and sick from the critical nature of my position. Any moment a question might be asked which would show me in my true colors. I rose and helped myself from a decanter of brandy which stood on a side-table. The potent liquor flew to my excited brain, and as I sat down I felt reckless enough to be half amused at my position, and inclined to play with my tormentors. I still, however, had all my wits about me.
"You have been to Birmingham?" asked the man with the beard.
"Many times," said I.
"Then you have, of course, seen the private workshop and arsenal?"
"I have been over them both more than once."
"It is still, I suppose, entirely unsuspected by the police?" continued my interrogator.
"Entirely," I replied.
