At eleven o'clock T. B. was reading a telegram from Harwich when the telephone at his elbow buzzed. He took up the receiver. "Hullo," he said curtly. For a second there was no reply, and then, very clear and distinct, came a voice. "T. B. Smith, I presume." It was the voice of Count Poltavo. If there had been anybody in the room but T. B., he might have imagined it was a very ordinary call the detective was receiving. Save for the fact that his face twitched, as was a characteristic of his when labouring under any great excitement, he gave no sign of the varied emotions Poltavo's voice had aroused. "Yes, I am T. B. Smith; you are, of course, Count Poltavo?" "I am, of course, Count Poltavo," said the voice suavely, "and it is on the tip of your tongue to ask me where I am." "I am hardly as foolish as that," said T. B. drily, "but wherever you are--and I gather from the clearness of your voice that you are in London--I shall have you." There was a little laugh at the other end of the wire. T. B.'s hand stole out and pressed a little bell-push that rested on the table. "Yes," said Poltavo's voice mockingly, "I am in London. I am desirous of knowing where my friends have hidden." "Your friends?" T. B. was genuinely astonished. "My friends," said the voice gravely, "who so ungenerously left me to die on the salt plains near Jerez whilst they were making their escape." A constable entered the room whilst Poltavo was talking, and T. B. raised his hand warningly. "Tell me," he said carelessly, "why you have not joined them." Then, like a flash, he brought his hand down over the transmitter and turned to the waiting constable. "Run across to Mr. Elk's room," he said rapidly; "call the Treasury Exchange and ask what part of London--what office--this man is speaking to me from." Poltavo was talking before T. B. had finished giving his instructions. "Why have I not joined them?" he said, and there was a little bitterness in his voice,--"because they do not wish to have me. Poltavo has served his purpose! Where are they now?--that is what I wish to know. More important still, I greatly desire a piece of information which you alone, monsieur, can afford me." The sublime audacity of the man brought a grin to T. B.'s face. "And that is?" he asked. "There was," said Poltavo, "amongst the documents you found at our headquarters in Jerez a scrap of paper written somewhat unintelligibly, and apparently--I should imagine, for I have not seen it--without much meaning." "There was," said T. B. cheerfully. "So much I gathered from Baggin's agitation on our retreat," said Poltavo. "Where, may I ask, is this interesting piece of literature deposited?" The cool, matter-of-fact demand almost took T. B.'s breath away. "It is at present at Scotland Yard," he said. "With my--er--dossier?" asked the voice, and a little laugh followed. "Rather with the dossier of your friend Baggin," said T. B.