His two assistants stepped forward. I concluded that I had done enough, so, grumbling mightily, and giving evidence of my displeasure, I suffered them to lead me to the other cell, where I was soon locked in for the night. With what impatience I waited for the appointed hour! At the first stroke of the bell I was at the window. The bars came out in my hand. Someone had chiseled out the mortar and replaced it with putty. I gained the sill and dropped. It was a long fall, but I was delighted when I alighted upon a truss of hay, which had evidently been thrown at the foot of the wall on purpose to receive me. I scrambled up and looked about. A man approached me. He had a weapon. I was without arms, and although I stood ready to spring, I had no doubt he was a messenger. “Monsieur Burnham?” he asked. “The same.” “Come with me.” I followed him down the narrow street on tiptoe. So far as I could see it was entirely deserted. The street opened upon a little park or square. Under the trees I made out horses. There were three of them. A figure sat upon one. My heart leaped into my mouth as I discerned it to be a woman. One of the horses was turned over to me. My conductor took the third, first handing me a hat and cloak. Then he turned and, indicating that we should follow, made his way into the street. On account of the lateness of the hour, and the fact that the jail was in a remote and unfrequented portion of the town, the street was dark and empty. We passed a lantern presently and its rays fell upon the woman who had persistently avoided conversation with me. Under this light, although she wore a mask and was shrouded in a cloak, I knew that it was the Countess. Nothing could stop me then. I swung my horse in toward hers and laid my hand on her arm. “Mademoiselle,” I said, “it is to you that I owe my freedom.” “Not yet,” she replied, but she did not shake off my hand, and we rode side by side, the horses going at a good pace. “First, you gave me something to live for—” I said. “That was?” “Yourself. Now you give me life to enjoy you.” “Monsieur,” she said, dodging the issue, “we have but little time to converse. I learned of your plight——” “How, Mademoiselle?” “From your servant, an ancient sailor. He followed you, learned where you were imprisoned, and immediately sought me.” “How did he get access to you?” “He had a—talisman, Monsieur, that insured him an immediate hearing.” I was completely puzzled, but Mademoiselle gave me no time for thought. She went on hurriedly: “I bribed the commandant and turnkey. I provided these horses. The man ahead of us is——” “Éspiau!” I exclaimed. “Yes. He will conduct you out of France.” “And you came, Mademoiselle——??” “To say farewell.” “Never!” I cried. “I will leave France, Mademoiselle, but not alone.” “You mean?” “I take you with me.” “Impossible!” “But do you not love me?” She was silent. “Would you have done all this for me if you had not?” I persisted.