"Give him a chair.

Now," he said to the man in deliberate German, "I shall say a few things to you which I am very anxious for you to understand.

You are a Servian." The man nodded.
"Your name is Zmai Miletich." The man shifted his great bulk uneasily in his chair and fastened his lusterless little eyes upon Armitage.
"Your name," repeated Armitage, "is Zmai Miletich; your home is, or was, in the village of Toplica, where you were a blacksmith until you became a thief.

You are employed as an assassin by two gentlemen known as Chauvenet and Durand--do you follow me ?" The man was indeed following him with deep engrossment.

His narrow forehead was drawn into minute wrinkles; his small eyes seemed to recede into his head; his great body turned uneasily.
"I ask you again," repeated Armitage, "whether you follow me.