all his pickings--for the bleeding of the Duke
of Ambury would set a seal upon previous accomplishments.

He rang a bell, and a man came, letting himself into the room with a
key. He was an Italian with a peculiarly repulsive face; one of the
small fry whom Poltavo had employed from time to time to do such work as
was beneath his own dignity, or which promised an unnecessary measure of
danger in its performance.

"Carlos," said Poltavo, speaking in Italian, "Antonio has been arrested,
and has been taken to Calais by the police."

"That I know, signor," nodded the man. "He is very fortunate. I was
afraid when the news came that he would be put into prison."

Poltavo smiled.

"The ways of the English police are beyond understanding," he said
lightly. "Here was our Antonio, anxious and willing to kill the head of
the detective department, and they release him! Is it not madness? At
any rate, Antonio will not be coming back, because though they are mad,
the police are not so foolish as to allow him to land again. I have
telegraphed to our friend to go on to Paris and await me, and here let
me say, Carlos,"--he tapped the table with the end of his
penholder,--"that if you by ill-fortune should ever find yourself in the
same position of our admirable and worthy Antonio, I beg that you will
not send me telegrams."

"You may be assured, excellent signor," said the man with a little grin,
"that I shall not send you telegrams, for I cannot write."

"A splendid deficiency," said Poltavo.

He took up a letter from the table.

"You will deliver this to a person who will meet you at the corner of
Branson Square. The exact position I have already indicated to you."

The man nodded.

"This person will give you in exchange another letter. You will not
return to me but you will go to your brother's house in Great Saffron
Street, and outside that house you will see a man standing who wears a
long overcoat. You will brush past him, and in doing so you will drop
this envelope into his pocket--you understand?"

"Excellency, I quite understand," said the man.

"Go, and God be with you," said the pious Poltavo, sending forth a
message which he believed would bring consternation and terror into the
bosom of the Duke of Ambury.

It was late that night when Carlos Freggetti came down a steep declivity
into Great Saffron Street and walked swiftly along that deserted
thoroughfare till he came to his brother's house. His brother was