"And," said T. B. Smith, blandly ignoring the startling hypothesis; "what is Mr. Moss doing now to earn the bread, butter, and _et ceteras_ of life?" "Me? Oh, I'm in the East mostly," said the other moodily; "got a client or two; give a tip an' get a tip now an' again. Small money an' small profits." He dropped his eyes under the steady and pseudo-benevolent gaze of the other. "No companies?" said the detective softly. "No companies, Mr. Moss? No Amalgamated Peruvian Concessions, eh? No Brazilian Rubber and Exploitation Syndicate?" The young man shifted his feet uneasily. "Genuine concerns, them," he said doggedly; "an', besides, I'm only a shareholder." "Not promoter. Mr. Moss is not a promoter?" In desperation the badgered shareholder turned. "How in 'Eaven's name you get hold of things I don't know," he said in helpless annoyance. "An' all I can say--excuse me." T. B. Smith saw his expression undergo a sudden change. "Don't look round, sir," said the other breathlessly; "there's one o' my clients comin' along; genuine business, Mr. Smith; don't crab the deal." In his agitation he grew a little incoherent. T. B. Smith might have walked on discreetly, leaving Moss to transact his business in quiet and peace. Indeed, the young man's light-blue eyes pleaded for this indulgence; but the gentleman from Scotland Yard was singularly obtuse this morning. "You don't want to meet him," urged Mr. Moss. "He's not in your line, sir; he's a gentleman." "I think you're very rude, Mr. Moss," said T. B. Smith, and waited, whilst Moss and client met. "Permit me," said Moss, with all the grace he could summon at a moment's notice, "to introduce you to a friend of mine--name of Smith--in the Government." The stranger bowed and offered a gloved hand. "Er----" said T. B., hesitant. "I did not quite catch your name?" "Count Poltavo," said Mr. Moss defiantly; "a friend of mine an' a client." "Delighted to make your acquaintance, count. I have met you somewhere." The count bowed. "It is ver' likely. I have been in England before." T. B. Smith surveyed the imperturbable foreigner with interest. Of Count Poltavo's connection with Baggin and with Grayson he knew from his men's reports, though, as far as recollection served, he had never seen the man. But a haunting resemblance troubled him. He nodded briefly to Moss, and turned away, and five minutes later had dismissed the incident from his mind. He continued in the direction of the Mansion House. A famous banker, passing in his motor brougham, waved his hand in salute; a city policeman stolidly ignored him. Along Cheapside, with the deliberate air of a sightseer, the man in the grey felt hat strolled, turning over in his mind the problem of the boom. For it was a problem.