"But they can't lock you up until they've caught you," said I reassuringly. "And I will see to it that they do not catch you." "I--I am depending on you entirely, Mr. Smart," she said anxiously. "Some day I may be in a position to repay you for all the kindness--" "Please, please!" "--and all the risk you are taking for me," she completed. "You see, you haven't the excuse any longer that you don't know my name and story. You are liable to be arrested yourself for--" There came a sharp rapping on the door at this instant--a rather imperative, sinister rapping, if one were to judge by the way we started and the way we looked at each other. We laughed nervously. "Goodness! You'd thing Sherlock Holmes himself was at the door," she cried. "See who it is, please." I went to the door. Poopendyke was there. He was visibly excited. "Can you come down at once, Mr. Smart?" he said in a voice not meant to reach the ears of the Countess. "What's up?" I questioned sharply. "The jig, I'm afraid," he whispered sententiously. Poopendyke, being a stenographer, never wasted words. He would have made a fine playwright. "Good Lord! Detectives?" "No. Count Tarnowsy and a stranger." "Impossible!" The Countess, alarmed by our manner, quickly crossed the room. "What is it?" she demanded. "The Count is downstairs," I said. "Don't be alarmed. Nothing can happen. You--" She laughed. "Oh, is that all? My dear Mr. Smart, he has come to see you about the frescoes." "But I have insulted him!" "Not permanently," she said. "I know him too well. He is like a leech. He has given you time to reflect and therefore regret your action of the other night. Go down and see him." Poopendyke volunteered further information. "There is also a man down there--a cheap looking person--who says he must see the Countess Tarnowsy at once." "A middle-aged man with the upper button of his waistcoat off?" she asked sharply. "I--I can't say as to the button." "I am expecting one of my lawyers. It must be he. He was to have a button off." "I'll look him over again," said Poopendyke. "Do. And be careful not to let the Count catch a glimpse of him. That would be fatal." "No danger of that. He went at once to old Conrad's room." "Good! I had a note from him this morning, Mr. Smart. He is Mr. Bangs of London." "May I inquire, Countess, how you manage to have letters delivered to you here? Isn't it extremely dangerous to have them go through the mails?" "They are all directed to the Schmicks," she explained. "They are passed on to me. Now go and see the Count. Don't lend him any money." "I shall probably kick him over the cliff," I said, with a scowl. She laid her hand upon my arm. "Be careful," she said very earnestly, "for my sake." Poopendyke had already started down the stairs. I raised her hand to my lips. Then I rushed away, cursing myself for a fool, an ingrate, a presumptuous bounder.