"We wish to see M. Vladimir Klostivitch on private affairs," replied the Sub. "It is useless to give one's names, for we are unknown to your master. You can inform him that we are comrades from England." "I am Vladimir Klostivitch," announced the old man. "Be pleased to enter." "I am sorry to have made a mistake," said Fordyce apologetically. "It is nothing," rejoined Klostivitch. "Can I offer you tea? Excuse the fact that I am alone in the house. Please be seated." The room into which Fordyce and his companion were shown was a large low-ceilinged place, devoid of a fire-place. It was well heated, warmth being obtained by means of a large closed-in stove in the centre of the room, over which was a bed-box, similar to those extensively used by the muzhiks in the smaller towns and villages of central Russia. The furniture consisted of a massive table, two arm-chairs and a few smaller ones, a plain sideboard, and a tall press. The floor was composed of stone flags on which rushes were strewn. "By Jove," cogitated Fordyce, while his host set about to prepare tea in the Russian style--strongly-brewed beverage with lemon juice instead of milk, "I didn't picture Klostivitch to be such a shrimp of a fellow! If his cunning only equals his bodily size, then we ought to have an easy job. Hanged if I can imagine a white-haired, soft-spoken fellow like that as a dangerous Anarchist or Extremist. After all, there's little to choose between the two names." Presently the tea was handed round to the accompaniment of an exchange of small talk. Apparently the Russian was seeking to "draw" his visitors, while Fordyce, in the joint role of interpreter and delegate, carefully sounded his ground. "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.