"Don't forget the newspapers. I want them to get the story," said the clubman, rising.
"I'll see they cover the raid."
Bromfield, massaging a glove on to his long fingers, added another word of caution. "Don't slip up on this thing. Lindsay's a long way from being a soft mark."
"Don't I know it?" snapped Durand viciously. "There'll be no slip-up this time if you do your part. We'll get him, and we'll get him right."
"Without any violence, of course."
"Oh, of course."
Was there a covert but derisive jeer concealed in that smooth assent? Bromfield did not know, but he took away with him an unease that disturbed his sleep that night.
Before the clubman was out of the hotel, Jerry was snapping instructions at one of his satellites.
"Tail that fellow. Find where he goes, who he is, what girl he's mashed on, all about him. See if he's hooked up with Lindsay. And how? Hop to it! Did you get a slant at him as he went out?"
"Sure I did. He's my meat."