As link after link in the chain of evidence was revealed, the count’s brutal eyes glowed with delight.
“Yes, we have him at last,” he cried. “But I would not have believed it of him, Zamosc—I swear I would not. He has thrown himself away for a woman—played right into our hands.”
“Yes,” replied Zamosc, glancing at the clock. “He is lost. And now for action. There is no time to lose. Shamarin must be arrested, first of all—the Moscow terminus will be the place for that—and then we will surprise the inspector at headquarters.”
“Yes, yes, that is a good plan,” exclaimed the count eagerly. “But you had better let the gendarmes make the two arrests. Go around to the first station on the Nevskoi Prospekt. You will find Captain Nikolin in charge. He has men there, and will act at once—a very necessary thing, for it is half past eleven o’clock now.”
“True,” said Zamosc, “and the train for Berlin leaves at midnight. Before morning the affair will be accomplished, and within a month, at the furthest, I shall expect a fulfillment of your promise, my dear count.”
“And you shall not be disappointed—if my influence counts for anything. Good night, and success to you.”
“Good night,” rejoined Zamosc.
He hurriedly left the room, taking Poussin with him, and a moment later the two were striding hurriedly along the Court Quay in the direction of the Nevskoi Prospekt.