a
respectable Italian artisan, engaged by an asphalt company in London.
Near the narrow door of the tenement in which his relative lived, a
stranger stood, apparently awaiting some one. Carlos, in passing him,
stumbled and apologized under his breath. At that moment he slipped the
letter into the other's pocket. His quick eyes noted the identity of the
stranger. It was Poltavo. No one else was in the street, and in the dim
light even the keenest of eyes would not have seen the transfer of the
envelope. Poltavo strolled to the end of the thoroughfare, jumped into
the taxicab which was waiting and reached his house after various
transferences of cabs without encountering any of T. B.'s watchful
agents. In his room he opened the letter with an anxious air. Would
Ambury agree to the exorbitant sum he had demanded? And if he did not
agree, what sum would he be prepared to pay as the price of the
blackmailer's silence? The first words brought relief to him.

"I am willing to pay the sum you ask, although I think you are guilty of
a dastardly crime," read the letter, "and since you seem to suspect my
bonafides, I shall choose, as an agent to carry the money to you, an old
labourer on my Lancashire estate who will be quite ignorant of the
business in hand, and who will give you the money in exchange for the
marriage certificate. If you will choose a rendezvous where you can
meet, a rendezvous which fulfills all your requirements as to privacy, I
will undertake to have my man on the spot at the time you wish."

There was a triumphant smile on Poltavo's face as he folded the letter.

"Now," he said half aloud, "now, my friend Farrington, you and I will
part company. You have ceased to be of any service to me; your value has
decreased in the same proportion as my desire for freedom has advanced.
Fifty thousand pounds!" he repeated admiringly. "Ernesto, you have a
happy time before you. All the continent of Europe is at your feet, and
this sad England is behind you. Congratulations, _amigo_!"

The question of the rendezvous was an important one. Though he read
into the letter an eagerness on the part of his victim to do anything to
avoid the scandal and the exposure which Poltavo threatened, yet he did
not trust him. The old farm labourer was a good idea, but where could
they meet? When Poltavo had kidnapped Frank Doughton he had intended
taking him to a little house he had hired in the East End of London. The
journey to the Se