"Come into my study," I said. He followed me upstairs and into the room. Poopendyke was there. "This is my secretary, you may speak freely before him." Turning to Poopendyke, I said: "You have not sent that statement to the newspapers, have you? Well, let it rest for a day or two. Mr. Pless has sent a representative to see me." I scowled at my secretary, and he had the sense to hide his astonishment. The fellow repeated what he had said before, and added a few instructions which I was to follow with care if I would do Mr. Pless the honour to wait upon him that evening at the Rempf Hotel. "You may tell Mr. Pless that I shall be there at nine," said I. The agent departed. When he was safely out of the room, I explained the situation to Poopendyke, and then made my way through the secret panels to the Countess's rooms. She was ready for the subterranean journey in quest of treasure, attired in a neat walking skirt, with her bonny hair encased in a swimming cap as a guard against cobwebs. "Then you don't intend to send out the statements?" she cried in disappointment. "You are going to let every one think you are his friend and not mine?" I was greatly elated. Her very unreasonableness was a prize that I could not fail to cherish. "Only for the time being," I said eagerly. "Don't you see the advantage we gain by fooling him? Why, it is splendid--positively splendid!" She pouted. "I don't feel at all sure of you now, Mr. Smart," she said, sitting down rather dejectedly in a chair near the fireplace. "I believe you are ready to turn against me. You want to be rid of me. I am a nuisance, a source of trouble to you. You will tell him that I am here--" I stood over her, trying my best to scowl. "You know better than that. You know I--I am as loyal as--as can be. Hang it all," I burst out impulsively, "do you suppose for a minute that I want to hand you over to that infernal rascal, now that I've come to--that is to say, now that we're such ripping good friends?" She looked up at me very pathetically at first. Then her expression changed swiftly to one of wonder and the most penetrating inquiry. Slowly a flush crept into her cheeks and her eyes wavered. "I--I think I can trust you to--to do the right thing by me," she said, descending to a banality in her confusion. I held out my hand. She laid hers in it rather timidly, almost as if she was afraid of me. "I shall not fail you," said I without the faintest intention to be heroic but immediately conscious of having used an expression so trite that my cheek flamed with humiliation. For some unaccountable reason she arose hastily from the chair and walked to the window. A similar reason, no doubt, held me rooted rather safely to the spot on which I stood. I have a vague recollection of feeling dizzy and rather short of breath. My heart was acting queerly.