Clearly, there was no one in authority more likely to listen to me than was Major-General Floog, then unknown to world fame, but who had a responsible position on the staff of the Viceroy, and was assumed to be occupying himself with the claims of newspaper correspondents. I drove over to the New Town at once, and called upon the General. Of course, he would not see me--it was a case of “come again--to-morrow morning at nine o’clock”--but I got my name registered there, without any mention of the business on which I wished to interview the General. Then I went out towards White Wolf Hill, and back by the upper road into town. On the Serpionaya there was a curious joint, frequented more or less by every one who was anybody in Port Arthur, a house Mac was most unlikely to visit. I went there for an hour or two, and just as I was leaving, I opened the door to Tsintsius! “Where are you going?” he asked. “Round to the Saratoff for supper.” “I’m going there too. I have a carriage here; jump in. I’ll drive you round.” Then he called to the driver, “Straight on!” At the first corner, I shouted, “To the right!” “Straight on, straight on!” called Tsintsius. Then he explained, “We’ll go over the hill, it is not much farther, and it saves many turns.” “All right.” “The Anglo-Russian correspondent”--he mentioned his name--“told me where I might find you!” I should not have thought it of him; the boy had guessed right the very first time, and really he never had enough sense to creep in under cover out of the rain. The newspaper pose never suited him, and he is doing better work now as secretary to an Archimandrite of the Orthodox Church. “Do you know many people in Port Arthur?” asked the detective. “Very few,” I answered promptly. “For instance?” That was too easy. “For instance? Those correspondents and their companions with whom you saw me taking lunch to-day?” “Ah, you are going to have supper with them? But whom else do you know?” He fidgeted uneasily by my side. “Some business men in the town,” I answered, without interest. “Do you happen to know the chief of police?” “I am not personally acquainted with him.” “He is a very fine man.” “Everyone praises him.” The horses were toiling slowly up the ascent, splashing through the ice, snow, and mud; the night was dark as the inside of a money-safe. “You ought to know him. He lives close by.” I knew very well where he lived--at the top of the hill--which we were nearing, for the horses were trotting again. I ignored his remark. “That’s right. I shall be glad to get some supper. I am very hungry.” “I should like to introduce you to him now.” The conversation did not please me at all. “Some other time,” I protested. “I want supper.” “It will not delay us a minute. Stop, driver!” “Well, where are we now?” I asked. “At the Chief’s. Come, just a minute! You will find him an excellent friend.” He got out of the carriage. “Don’t be long. I’ll wait for you,” I remarked casually.