"Not bad, not bad," mused the father.
"But perhaps after all it will be better if you show it to her yourself."
"Just a little uncertain?" jibed the millionaire.
"Absolutely certain. I will whisper in your ear where it is hidden." Norton leaned forward as Hargreave bent attentively.
"You've hit it! But how in the world did you guess it?"
"Because it was the last place any one would look for it. I judged at the start that you'd hide it in just such a spot, in some place where you could always guard it, and lay your hands on it quickly if needs said must."
"I'm mighty glad you were on my side," said Hargreave. "In a few minutes we'll go up and take a look at those packets of bills. There's a very unhappy young woman there at present."
"It is in my room?" cried Florence.
Hargreave nodded.
Meantime the Countess Olga hovered between two courses: a brave attempt to escape by the window or to turn the revolver against her heart. In either case there was nothing left in life for her. The man she loved was dead below, killed by her hand. She felt as though she was treading air in some fantastical nightmare. She could not go forward or backward, and her heels were always within reach of her pursuers.