signs of a man. He rang the bell all the louder, and stood squarely on
the threshold until the door was opened by a dirty man in a dirty apron,
who looked at him in lugubrious silence.

"Name of Cable," said the captain, turning to expectorate on the
pavement, after the manner of far-sighted sailors who are about to find
themselves on carpet. The man made a slight grimace, and craned forwards
with an interrogative ear held ready for a repetition.

"Name of Cable," repeated the captain. "Dirty!" he added, just by way of
inviting his hearer's attention, and adding that personal note without
which even the shortest conversation is apt to lose interest.

This direct address seemed to have the desired effect, for the man stood
aside.

"Heave ahead!" he said, pointing to an open door. For the only English
he knew was the English they speak in the Baltic. The captain cocked his
bright blue eye at him, his attention caught by the familiar note. And
he stumped along the passage into the dim room at the end. It was
a small, square room, with a window opening upon some leads, where
discarded bottles and blackened moss surrounded the remains of a
sparrow. The room was full of men--six or seven foreign faces were
turned towards the new-comer. Only one, however, of these faces was
familiar to Captain Cable. It was the face of the man known on the
Vistula as Kosmaroff.

The captain nodded to him. He had a large nodding acquaintance. It will
be remembered that he claimed for his hands a cleanliness which their
appearance seemed to define as purely moral. In his way he was a proud
man, and stand-offish at that. He looked slowly round, and found no
other face to recognize. But he looked a second time at a small, dark
man with gentle eyes, whose individuality must have had something
magnetic in it. Captain Cable was accustomed to judge from outward
things. He picked out the ruling mind in that room, and looked again at
its possessor as if measuring himself against him.

"Take a chair, captain," said Kosmaroff, who himself happened to be
standing. He was leaning against the high, old-fashioned mantel-piece,
which had seen better days--and company--and smoking a cigarette. He was
clad in a cheap, ready-made suit; for his heart was in his business, and
he scraped and saved every kopeck. But the cheap clothing could not hide
that ease of movement which bespeaks a long descent, or conceal the slim
strength of limb which is begotten of