“Go to Ivan and Nicolai. Good-bye ... comrade!” And she gave him a look that made him tingle all through. As her proud figure turned coldly away, he slipped out into the entry hall. But his uncle had seen him, and before the old door-man had helped Drexel into his fur coat Mr. Howard had joined him. “Can I have a talk with you after you come in, my boy?” “No--I’m sorry,” Drexel answered rapidly, for to him every second had the worth of two lives. “Just got a telephone message from St. Petersburg--got to go back to Moscow on business--must hurry to catch the train.” And disregarding his uncle’s attempt at a reply Drexel rushed out. Night was fully on, though the hour was scarcely five. The sky was a-glitter with stars, all the wide spaces of the night were flooded with the cold brilliance of the moon, and this celestial brightness was reflected and doubled by the vast mirror of the snow. Why could not this have been a black and hiding night? Drexel cursed this light as his enemy. He first struck out on foot; but it occurred to him that if he walked the prince, were he minded to pursue, could easily overtake him. So he turned and made haste along the road that swept among the hemlocks back to the stable, determined to ask boldly for a sleigh. As a curve in the avenue revealed the stable, a dark object glided out and came toward him. It was the answer to his unspoken prayer. “For whom is this sleigh?” he asked the driver. “Countess Baronova,” was the answer. 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?” “Some documents I secured while we were searching the prince’s study--papers of great value to us, I think. They will be safer with you.” Drexel thrust the papers into the pocket of his shuba. “How did you get away from the prince?”