“Hush!  Lie still till I come back.  You—­you don’t deserve it, but I want to save you from the disgrace of arrest.”

“Ach, zank you—­mine better angel!” he murmured, with a fervor that seemed not unpleasing to his rescuer.

“You really are a nobleman in trouble?”

“I swear I am!”

“And didn’t mean anything really wrong?”

“Never—­oh, never!”

More kindly than before she murmured—­

“Well, I guess I’ll take you out, then.  I’ve bribed Dugald, so that’s all right.  When my car’s ready I’ll send him up for you.  You just lie still till he comes.”

From which it appears that Count Bunker’s appreciation of the sex fell short of their meed.

Hardly daring to breathe for fear of awakening his fellow-prisoner, trembling with agitation, and consumed by a mad impatience for action, the Baron passed five of the longest minutes he had ever endured.  At the end of that time he heard a stealthy step upon the stairs, and with infinite precautions threw off his bedclothes and sat upright, ready for instant departure.  But how slowly and with what a superfluity of precaution his jailor moved!  When the door at length opened he wondered that no ray of light fell this time.

“Dugald!” he whispered eagerly.

“Hush!” replied a softer voice than Dugald’s; as soft, indeed, as Eleanor’s, yet clearly different.

“Who is zat?” he gasped.

“Eva Gallosh!” said the silken voice.  “Oh, is that you?”

“Yes—­yes—­it is me.”

“And are you really a Baron and an ambassador?”

“Oh yes—­yes—­certainly I am.”

“Then—­then I’ve come to help you to escape!  I’ve bribed Dugald—­and I’ve got a dog-cart here.  Come quickly—­but oh, be very quiet!”

For a moment the Baron actually hesitated to flee from that loathed apartment.  It seemed to him that if Fortune desired to provide him with opportunities of escape she might have had the sense to offer these one at a time.  For how could he tell which of these overtures to close with?  A wrong decision might be fatal; yet time unquestionably pressed.

“Mein Gott!” he muttered irresolutely, “vich shall I do?”

At that moment the other bed creaked, and, to his infinite horror, he heard a suspicious voice demand—­

“Is that you talking, Rudolph?”

Poor Eva, who was quite unaware of the presence of another prisoner, uttered a stifled shriek; with a cry of “Fly, quickly!” the Baron leaped from his bed, and headlong down the wooden stairs they clattered for freedom.

A dim vision of the thrice-bribed Dugald, screeching, “The car’s ready for ye, sir!” but increased their speed.

Outside, a motor car stood panting by the door, and in the youthful driver, turning a pale face toward them in the lamp’s radiance, the Baron had just time to recognize his first fair deliverer.