"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, Jones heard the countess say: "I did, my child; and heaven is witness that you are the exact picture of her at your age. And I knew your father." Jones straightened, his hands shut tightly. "Tell me about my father!" The countess smiled. It was Katrina. Pushkin come to life, the same impulsiveness. "I knew him but slightly. I was a mere child myself when he used to pinch my cheeks. I met him again the other night, but he did not recognize me; and I could not find it in my heart to awaken his memory in a public restaurant." Presently Jones came in to announce that two detectives requested to see Florence. The two men entered, informing her that they had been instructed to investigate the disappearance of Stanley Hargreave. "Who are you, miss?" "I am his daughter." "Ah!" One of the detectives questioned Florence minutely, while the other wandered about the rooms, feeling the walls, using the magnifying glass, turning back the rugs. Even the girl's pretty room did not escape his scrutiny. By and by he returned to the library and beckoned to his companion. The two conferred for a moment. One chanced to look into the mirror. He saw the bright eyes of the countess gazing intelligently into his. [Illustration: THE PEACEFUL BUTLER ENTERED INTO THE FIELD OF ACTION] "I'm afraid we'll have to ask you to accompany us to the station, miss." "Why?" "Some technicalities. We must have some proof of your right to be in this house. So far as we have learned, Hargreave was unmarried. It will take but a few minutes." "And I will accompany you," said the countess. "We'll be back within half an hour. I'll tell them what I know."