“If he sounds you about the money, say nobody knows much about it, except Mademoiselle Klosking. If you can get the matter so far, come and tell me. But be _you_ very reserved, for you are not clear.” Ashmead received these instructions meekly, and went into the _salle 'a manger_ and ordered dinner. Smith was there, and had evidently got some information from Karl, for he opened an easy conversation with Ashmead, and it ended in their dining together. Smith played the open-handed country man to the life--stood champagne. Ashmead chattered, and seemed quite off his guard. Smith approached the subject cautiously. “Gamble here as much as ever?” “All day, some of them.” “Ladies and all?” “Why, the ladies are the worst.” “No; are they now? Ah, that reminds me. I heard there was a lady in this very house won a pot o' money.” “It is true. I am her agent.” “I suppose she lost it all next day?” “Well, not all, for she gave a thousand pounds to the poor.” “The dressmakers collared the rest?” “I cannot say. I have nothing to do except with her theatrical business. She will make more by that than she ever made at play.” “What, is she tip-top?” “The most rising singer in Europe.” “I should like to see her.” “That you can easily do. She sings tonight. I'll pass you in.” “You are a good fellow. Have a bit of supper with me afterward. Bottle of fizz.” These two might be compared to a couple of spiders, each taking the other for a fly. Smith was enchanted with Ina's singing, or pretended. Ashmead was delighted with him, or pretended. “Introduce me to her,” said Smith. “I dare not do that. You are not professional, are you?” “No, but you can say I am, for a lark.” Ashmead said he should like to; but it would not do, unless he was very wary. “Oh, I'm fly,” said the other. “She won't get anything out of me. I've been behind the scenes often enough.” Then Ashmead said he would go and ask her if he might present a London manager to her. He soon brought back the answer. “She is too tired to-night: but I pressed her, and she says she will be charmed if you will breakfast with her to-morrow at eleven.” He did not say that he was to be with her at half-past ten for special instructions. They were very simple. “My friend,” said she, “I mean to tell this man something which he will think it his duty to telegraph or write to _him_ immediately. It was for this I would not have the man to supper, being after post-time. This morning he shall either write or telegraph, and then, if you are as clever in this as you are in some things, you will watch him, and find out the address he sends to.” Ashmead listened very attentively, and fell into a brown study. “Madam,” said he at last, “this is a first-rate combination. You make him communicate with England, and I will do the rest. If he telegraphs, I'll be at his heels. If he goes to the post, I know a way. If he posts in the house, he makes it too easy.”