"There is no flaw in that," she agreed readily. "I wish to see the child. I have told you why."
"Very well, madam." Why had they not telegraphed the child, even on the train, to return to Farlow's. He knew nothing of this woman, whether she was an enemy or a friend. He conducted his unwelcome guest into the library.
"How did you know that she was here?" suddenly.
But she was ready. "I did not. But the death of Mr. Hargreave brought me. And that youthful hat in the hall was a story all its own. Later I shall show you some papers of my own. You will have no cause to doubt them. They have not the legal power of yours, but they would find standing in any court."
Jones turned and went in search of Florence.
The countess lost no time in beginning her investigations, but she wasted her time. There was no secret panel in evidence.
"Who is she?" asked Florence as she looked at the card. "Did my father know countesses?"
"Yes," said Jones briefly. "Be very careful what you say to her. Admit nothing. She claims to be a cousin of your mother. Perhaps."
"My mother?" Without waiting for any further advice from Jones, whom Florence in her young years thought presuming upon his authority, she ran downstairs to the library. Her mother, to learn some facts about the mother of whom she knew nothing!
"You knew my mother?" she cried without ceremony,