"How did you get here?" she asked breathlessly.
"Something told me to follow you. And something is always going to tell me to follow you, Florence."
She pressed his hand. It was to her as if one of those book heroes had stepped out of a book; only book heroes always had tremendous fortunes and did not have to work for a living. Oddly enough, she was not afraid.
"Who was the man?" he asked.
"The Count Norfeldt. Some one has imposed upon the countess."
"Do you think so?" with a strange look in his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing just now. The idea is to get out of here just as quickly as we can. See this painting?" He touched a spot in the wall and the painting slowly swung out like a door. "Come; we make our escape to the side lawn from here."
At the stable they were confronted with the knowledge that Norton's car was out of commission; Jones could do nothing with it. Then Norton suggested that he make an effort to commandeer the limousine of the countess; but there were men about, so the limousine was out of the question.
"Horses!" whispered Jones. "There are several saddle horses, already saddled. How about these people, the owners?"