“It is the amount offered by Mrs. Winthrop.”
“But Madame Winthrop is willing to give five thousand.” Annette glanced eagerly at the two men. “My news is worth that.”
Thornton shook his head. “Mrs. Winthrop has reconsidered, and will not give more than one thousand,” he declared with finality.
An obstinate frown marred Annette’s pretty face. “I will not take less than five thousand,” she announced with emphasis.
“You go too fast,” broke in Douglas quietly. “First, the reward will not be paid until after the murderer is convicted; secondly, your information may be of no value whatever.”
“Zo?” Annette’s smile was not pleasant. “Zen I keep my news to myself,” and she started for the door.
“Wait,” commanded Thornton. “Come back here.” Then, as she obeyed, he added in a more kindly tone: “If your information is really valuable, Annette, I am willing to advance you some money. But first you must tell us what you know and suspect.”
“How much?”
“Say fifty dollars,” drawing out his leather wallet and extracting several yellow backs which he held temptingly in his hand.
“Not enough, Monsieur.”