“Indeed!” said the Klosking. “Please tell me every word that passed between you.”
He did so, as nearly as he could remember.
Mademoiselle Klosking leaned her brow upon her hand a considerable time in thought. Then she turned on Ashmead, and said, quietly, “That Poikilus is still acting for him, and the one thing they desire to learn is where to find Miss Vizard, and delude her to her ruin.”
“No, no,” cried Ashmead violently; but the next moment his countenance fell. “You are wiser than I am,” said he; “it may be. Confound the sneak! I'll give it him next time I see him! Why, he must love villainy for its own sake. I as good as said you would pay him his fifty pounds.”
“What fifty pounds? His fifty pounds is a falsehood, like himself. Now, my friend, please take my instructions, my positive instructions.”
“Yes, madam.”
“You will not change your friendly manner: show no suspicion nor anger. If they are cunning, we must be wise; and the wise always keep their temper. You will say Miss Vizard has gone to Ireland, but to what part is only known to her brother. Tell him this, and be very free and communicative on all other subjects; for this alone has any importance now. As for me, I can easily learn where Somerville Villa is, and in a day or two shall send you to look after her. One thing is clear—I had better lose no time in recovering my strength. Well, my will is strong. I will lose no time—your arm, monsieur;” and she resumed her promenade.
Ashmead, instructed as above, dined again with the detective; but out of revenge gave him but one bottle of Madeira. As they sipped it, he delivered a great many words; and in the middle of them said, “Oh, by-the-by, I asked after that poor young lady. Gone to Ireland, but they didn't know what part.”
After dinner Ashmead went to the theater. When he came back Poikilus was gone.
So did Wisdom baffle Cunning that time.