Catherine nodded amiably, and, at a word of invitation, Van Ingen fell into step beside her.
* * * * * * *
That night he cabled to the detective:
"Poltavo in Tangier. C. Dominguez will sell his whereabouts for £5,000.
"VAN INGEN."
To this he received the laconic reply, "Coming."
The trap which the detective laid, as the Sud Express fled shrieking through the night, was simple. To capture Count Poltavo while the "Mad Terror" remained afloat would be imbecile. But to frighten him by a pseudo-attack out into the open, and then follow him to the Nine——Smith smiled over the common-sense of his little scheme, and fell asleep.
His interview, two mornings later, with Catherine Dominguez was most amiable—both ignored their last meeting—and satisfactory, save in one small particular. Upon reflection, the lady had raised her price. For £10,000 she would divulge her secret. And the detective, after a few protests, acceded to her demands. After all, she ran a certain risk in betraying a man like the count. He thought, grimly, of Hyatt and Moss.
At the conclusion of the conference, he wrote her a check.
She shook her head, smiling.