For the first time in these last tense minutes he thought of the countess, and recalled her declaration that she purposed escaping with him. But before he could decide what should be his course concerning her, he saw the countess herself hurrying across the snow.
“This is luck,” she gasped, “you are here already.” She dismissed the driver. “Come, Mr. Drexel, we must be off at once.”
“But, countess,” he objected, “I cannot let you plunge into this danger!”
“I led you into it,” she replied, “and I am going to share it.”
Again Drexel could not explain to her that another had been his leader.
“I want to get away,” the countess continued, “to help use the information you have gained. Besides, I am in danger as well as you. I must fly, whether I fly with you, or fly alone.”
“Well, if you are determined,” said Drexel. He helped her in and stepped in beside her.
He struck the horse into a gallop and the countess tucked the thick bear robes snugly about them. They sped silently over the snow, and a minute later passed through the park gates.
“I feel safer now,” breathed the countess. She drew something from her breast. “Here—take these.”
“What are they?”