Jones, in the hall, caught sight of the reporter coming up the steps. Here was some one he could depend upon. "Why, Mr. Norton!" The reporter eyed the countess in amazement. "You look surprised. Naturally. I am a cousin of Miss Florence's mother. You might say that I am her aunt. It's a small world, isn't it?" But if wishing could poison, the reporter would have died that moment. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" one of the detectives demanded. "I am going to ask that very question of you," said Norton urbanely. "We are from headquarters," replied one, showing his badge. "What headquarters? What are they asking you to do?" he said to Florence. "They say I must go to the police station with them." "Not the least in the world," laughed the reporter. "You two clear out of here as fast as your rascally legs can carry you. I don't know what your game is, but I do know every reputable detective in New York, and you don't belong." "Good heavens!" exclaimed the countess; "do you mean to say that these men are not real detectives?" "This girl goes to the police station, young man. So much the worse for you if you meddle. Take yourself off!" "All in good time." "Here, Jenner, you take charge of the girl. I'll handle this guy. He shall go to the station, too." What followed would always be vividly remembered by Florence, fresh from the peace and happiness of her school life. Norton knocked his opponent down. He rose and for a moment the room seemed full of legs and arms and panting men. A foot tripped up Norton and he went down under the bogus detective. He never suspected that the tripping foot was not accidental. He was too busy. The other man dragged Florence toward the hall, but there the peaceful butler entered into the field of action with a very unattractive automatic. The detective threw up his hands. The struggle went on in the library. A trick of jiu-jutsu brought about the downfall of Norton's man, and Norton ran out into the hall to aid Jones. He searched the detective's pockets and secured the revolver. The result of all this was that the two bogus detectives soon found themselves in charge of two policemen, and they were marched off to the station. "Your advent was most providential, Mr. Norton," said Jones in his usual colorless tones. "I rather believe so. Why don't you pack up and clear out for a while?" "I am stronger in this house than elsewhere," answered the butler enigmatically. "Well, you know best," said the reporter. The countess was breathing rapidly. No, on second thought she had no wish to throw her arms about the reporter's neck and kiss him. CHAPTER III