"One small thing I had almost forgot," she murmured pensively. "Count Poltavo leaves for--Lolo--to-night." Catherine Dominguez had not lied. Perhaps she had some secret grudge against the Nine, whose faithful agent she had been, or perhaps she was tired of obscure flittings, and wished to buy indemnity by confession. The detective never knew. Nevertheless, he felt grateful to her. * * * * * * * That night, a slender man, wearing a felt hat and a _cappa_, descended the steps of one of the villas of the Marshan, and walked through the garden. There was a man standing in the middle of the white road, his hands in his overcoat pocket, the red glow of his cigar a point of light in the gloom. Farther away, he saw the figures of three horsemen. "Count Poltavo, I suppose," drawled a voice--the voice of T. B. Smith. "Put up your hands or you're a dead man." CHAPTER XXXII POLTAVO LEAVES HURRIEDLY In an instant the road was filled with men; they must have been crouching in the shadow of the grassy plateau, but in that same instant Poltavo had leapt back to the cover of the garden. A revolver banged behind him; and, as he ran, he snatched his own revolver from his pocket, and sent two quick shots into the thick of the surrounding circle. There was another gate at the farther end of the garden; there would be men there, but he must risk it. He was slight and had some speed as a runner; he must depend upon these gifts. He opened the gate swiftly and sprang out. There were three or four men standing in his path. He shot at one point-blank, dodged the others, and ran. He judged that his pursuers would not know the road as well as he. Shot after shot rang out behind him. He was an easy mark on the white road, and he turned aside and took to the grass. He was clear of the houses now, and there was no danger ahead, but the men who followed him were untiring. Presently he struck the footpath across the sloping plain that led to the shore, and the going was easier. It was his luck that his pursuers should have missed the path. His every arrangement worked smoothly, for the boat was waiting, the men at their oars, and he sprang breathlessly into the stern. It was a circumstance which might have struck him as strange, had he been in a condition for calm thought, that the horsemen who were of the party that surrounded him had not joined in pursuit. But there was another mystery that the night revealed. He had been on board the _Doro_--as his little ship was called--for an hour before he went to the cabin that had been made ready for him. His first act was to take his revolver from his pocket, preparatory to reloading it from the cartridges stored in one of his trunks. Two chambers of the pistol were undischarged, and, as he jerked back the extractor, these two shells fell on the bed. He looked at them stupidly. Both cartridges were blank! * * * * * * *