by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER VI
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S VAGARIES
Cynthia, notwithstanding that spirited _pas seul_, was rather palewhen Medenham stopped the car close beside her. She had been ontenterhooks during the past quarter of an hour--there were silentmoments when she measured her own slim figure against the nattyCount's in half-formed resolution to take to her heels along theCheddar Road.
At first, she had enjoyed the run greatly. Although Dale spoke ofSmith as a mechanic, the man was a first-rate driver, and he spun theDu Vallon along at its best speed. But the change from good macadamto none soon made itself felt, and Cynthia was more troubled than shecared to show when the French flier came to a standstill after pantingand jolting alarmingly among the ruts. Marigny's excited questionsevoked only unintelligible grunts from Smith; for all that, theirritating truth could not be withheld--the petrol tank was empty; notonly had the chauffeur forgotten to fill it that morning, but, by somestrange mischance, the supply usually held in reserve had been left atBristol!
The Frenchman was very angry with Smith, and Smith was humblyapologetic. The pair must have acted convincingly, because each knewto a nicety how soon a gallon of petrol would vaporize in the DuVallon's six cylinders. Having taken the precaution to measure thatexact quantity into the tank before leaving Cheddar, they wereprepared for a breakdown at any point within a few hundred yards ofthe precise locality where it occurred.
Cynthia, being generous-minded, tried to make little of the mishap. Bytaking that line she strove to reassure herself.
"Fitzroy is always prepared for emergencies," she said. "He willsoon catch up with us. But what a road! I didn't really notice itbefore. Surely this cannot be the only highway between Bristol andCheddar?--and in England, too, where the roads are so perfect!"
"There are two roads, but this is the nearest one," explained theglib-tongued Count, seemingly much relieved by the prospect ofFitzroy's early arrival. "You don't deserve to be pulled out of adifficulty so promptly, Smith," he went on, eying the chauffeursternly.
"There's a village not very far ahead, sir," said the abashed Smith.
"Oh, never mind! We must wait for Miss Vanrenen's car."
"Wait?" inquired Cynthia. "What else can we do?"
"I take it he meant to walk to some village, and bring a stock ofspirit."
"Oh, dear! I hope no such thing will be necessary."
From that half hint of latent and highly disagreeable developmentsdated Cynthia's uneasiness. She accepted Marigny's suggestion thatthey should stroll to the top of the slight hill just descended,whence they would be able to watch their rescuer's approach from aconsiderable distance--she even remembered to tell him to smoke--butshe answered his lively sallies at random, and agreed unreservedlywith his voluble self-reproach.
The obvious disuse of the road, a mere lane providing access to sheepinclosures on the hills, caused her no small perplexity, though shesaw fit not to add to her companion's distress by commenting on it. Inany other circumstances she would have been genuinely alarmed, but herwell-established acquaintanceship with the Count, together with theapparently certain fact that Fitzroy and Mrs. Devar were coming nearereach second, forbade the tremors that any similar accident must haveevoked if, say, they were marooned on some remote mountain range ofthe continent, and no friendly car was speeding to their aid.
The two halted on the rising ground, and one of them, at least, gazedanxiously into the purple shadows now mellowing the gray monotony ofthe plateau. The point where the Du Vallon left the main road wasinvisible from where they stood. Marigny had laid his plans withskill, so his humorous treatment of their plight was not marred by anylurking fear of the Mercury's unwelcome appearance.
"What a terrible collapse this would be if I were running away withyou, Miss Cynthia," he said slyly. "Let us imagine a priest waiting insome ancient castle ten miles away, and an irate father, or a pair ofthem, starting from Cheddar in hot pursuit."
"My imagination fails me there, Monsieur Marigny," she replied, andthe shade of emphasis on his surname showed that she was fully awareof the boundary crossed by the "Miss Cynthia," an advance whichsurprised her more than the Frenchman counted on. "At present I amwholly absorbed in a vain effort to picture an automobile somewheredown there in the gathering mists; still, it _must_ arrive soon."
Then Marigny put forth a tentative claw.
"I hate to tell you," he said, "_mais il faut marcher quand le diableest aux trousses_.[A] I am unwillingly forced to believe that yourchauffeur has taken the other road."
[Footnote A: "But needs must when the devil drives."]
"The other road!" wailed Cynthia in sudden and most poignantforeboding. It was then that she first began to estimate her runningpowers.
"Yes, there are two, you know. The second one is not so direct----"
"If you think that, your man had better go at once to the village hespoke of. Is it certain that he will obtain petrol there?"
"Almost certain."
"Really, Monsieur Marigny, I fail to understand you. Why should youexpress a doubt? He appeared to be confident enough five minutes ago.He was ready to start until we prevented him."
That the girl should yield to slight panic was precisely what CountEdouard desired. True, Cynthia's sparkling eyes and firm lips wereeloquent of keen annoyance rather than fear, but Marigny was an adeptin reading the danger signals of beauty in distress, and he saw inthese symptoms the heralds of tears and fright. His experience did notlead him far astray, but he had not allowed for racial differencebetween the Latin and the Anglo-Saxon. Cynthia might weep, she mighteven attempt to run, but in the last resource she would face him withdauntless courage.
"I assure you I would not have had this thing happen on any account,"he said in a voice that vibrated with sympathy. "Indeed, I pray yourpity in my own behalf, Miss Vanrenen. After all, it is I who sufferthe agony of failure when I meant only to please. You will reachBristol this evening, a little late, perhaps, but quite safely, and Ihope that you will laugh then at the predicament which now looks soill-starred."
His seeming sincerity appeased her to some extent. In rapid swing backto the commonplace, she affected to laugh.
"It is not so serious, after all," she said, with more calmness thanshe felt. "Just for a moment you threw me off the rails by yourlawyer-like vagueness."
Drawing a little apart, she looked steadily back along the desertedroad.
"I see nothing of my car," she murmured at last. "It will soon bedusk. We must take no more chances. Please send for that benzine rightaway."
Smith was dispatched forthwith on what he knew to be a fool's errand,since both he and Marigny were practically sure of their ground. Thenearest petrol was to be found at Langford, two miles along theBristol road from the fork, and four miles in the opposite directionto that taken by Smith, who, when he returned empty-handed an hourlater, must make another long journey to Langford. The Du Vallon wasnow anchored immovably until eleven o'clock, and it was well that thegirl could not realize the true nature of the ordeal before her, orevents might have taken an awkward twist.
The Frenchman meant no real harm by his rascally scheme, for CynthiaVanrenen, daughter of a well-known American citizen, was not to bewooed and won in the fashion that commended itself to unscrupulouslovers in by-gone days. Yet his design blended subtlety and daring ina way that was worthy of ancestors who had ruffled it at Versailleswith the cavaliers of old France. He trusted implicitly to the effectof a somewhat exciting adventure on the susceptible feminine heart.The phantom of distrust would soon vanish. She would yield to thespell of a night scented with the breath of summer, languorous withsoft zephyrs, a night when the spirit of romance itself wouldemparadise the lonely waste, and a belated moon, "like to a silver bownew-bent in heaven," would lend its glamor to a sky already spangledwith glowing sapphires.
In such a night, all things were possible.
In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the w
ild sea-banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage.
Marigny had indeed arranged a situation worthy of his nurturing amongthe decadents of Paris. He believed that in these surroundings animpressionable girl would admit him to a degree of intimacy not to beattained by many days of prosaic meetings. At the right moment, whenhis well-bribed servant was gone to Langford, he would remember abottle of wine and some sandwiches stored in the car that morning toprovide the luncheon that he might not obtain at a wayside inn.Cynthia and he would make merry over the feast. The magnetism that hadnever yet failed him in affairs of the heart would surely provepotent now at this real crisis in his life. Marriage to a rich womancould alone snatch him from the social abyss, and the prospect becamedoubly alluring when it took the guise of Cynthia. He would restoreher to a disconsolate chaperon some time before midnight, and he wascynic enough to admit that if he had not then succeeded in winning heresteem by his chivalry, his unobtrusive tenderness, his devotedattentions--above all, by his flow of interesting talk and well-turnedepigram--the fault would be his own, and not attributable to adverseconditions.
It was not surprising, therefore, that he failed to choke back thecurse quick risen to his lips when the throb of the Mercury's enginecame over the crest of the hill. Never was mailed dragon more terribleto the beholder, even in the days of knight-errantry. In an instanthis well-conceived project had gone by the board. He saw himselfdiscredited, suspected, a skulking plotter driven into the open, aself-confessed trickster utterly at the mercy of some haphazardquestion that would lay bare his pretenses and cover his counterfeitrhapsody with ridicule.
If Cynthia had heard, and hearing understood, it is possible that agreat many remarkable incidents then in embryo would have passed intothe mists of what might have been. For instance, she would not havedeigned to notice Count Edouard Marigny's further existence. The nexttime she met him he would fill a place in the landscape comparable tothat occupied by a migratory beetle. But her heart was leaping forjoy, and her cry of thankfulness quite drowned in her ears theFrenchman's furious oath.
Mrs. Devar, having had time to gather her wits, made a gallant attemptto retrieve her fellow-conspirator's shattered fortunes.
"My dearest Cynthia," she cried effusively, "do say you are not hurt!"
"Not a bit," was the cheerful answer. "It is not I, but the car, thatis out of commission. Didn't you see me do the Salome act when youwere thrown on the screen?"
"Ah! the car has broken down. I do not wonder--this fearful road----"
"The road seems to have strayed out of Colorado, but that isn't thetrouble. We are short of petrol. Please give some to Monsieur Marigny,Fitzroy. Then we can hurry to Bristol, and the Count must pick up hischauffeur on the way."
Without more ado, she seated herself by Mrs. Devar's side, and Marignyrealized that he had been robbed of a golden opportunity. Nopersuasion would bring Cynthia back into the Du Vallon that evening;it would need the exercise of all his subtle tact to induce her tore-enter it at any time in the near future.
He strove to appear at his ease, even essayed a few words ofcongratulation on the happy chance that brought the Mercury to theirrelief, but the imperious young lady cut short his limping phrases.
"Oh, don't let us waste these precious minutes," she protested. "Itwill be quite dark soon, and if there is much more of this wretchedtrack----"
Medenham broke in at that. Mrs. Devar's change of front had caused himsome grim amusement, but the discovery of Marigny's artifice rousedhis wrath again. It was high time that Cynthia should be enlightened,partly at least, as to the true nature of the "accident" that hadbefallen her; he had already solved the riddle of Smith'sdisappearance.
"The road to Bristol lies behind you, Miss Vanrenen," he said.
"One of the roads," cried the Frenchman.
"No, the only road," persisted Medenham. "We return to it some twomiles in the rear. Had you followed your present path much farther youcould not possibly have reached Bristol to-night."
"But there is a village quite near. My chauffeur has gone there forpetrol. Someone would have told us of our mistake."
"There is no petrol to be bought at Blagdon, which is a mere hamlet onthe downs. Anyhow, here are two gallons--ample for your needs--but ifyour man is walking to Blagdon you will be compelled to wait till hereturns, Monsieur Marigny."
Though Medenham did not endeavor to check the contemptuous note thatcrept into his voice, he certainly ought not to have uttered those twoconcluding words. Had he ransacked his ample vocabulary of the Frenchlanguage he could scarcely have hit upon another set of syllablesoffering similar difficulties to the foreigner. It was quite evidentthat his accurate pronunciation startled the accomplices. Each arrivedat the same conclusion, though by different channels; this man was nomere chauffeur, and the fact rendered his marked hostility all themore significant.
Nevertheless, for the moment, Marigny concealed his uneasiness: by adisplay of good humor he hoped to gloss over the palpable absurdity ofhis earlier statements to Cynthia.
"I seem to have bungled this business very badly," he said airily."Please don't be too hard on me. I shall make the _amende_ when I seeyou in Bristol. _Au revoir, cheres dames!_ Tell them to keep me somedinner. I may not be so very far behind, since you ladies will takesome time over your toilette, and I shall--what do you call it--scorchlike mad after I have found that careless scoundrel, Smith."
Cynthia had suddenly grown dumb, so Mrs. Devar tried once more torelax the tension.
"Do be careful, Count Edouard," she cried; "this piece of road isdreadfully dangerous, and, when all is said and done, another halfhour is now of no great consequence."
"If your chauffeur has really gone to Blagdon, he will not be backunder an hour at least," broke in Medenham's disdainful voice. "Unlessyou wish to wreck your car you will not attempt to follow him."
With that he bent over the head lamps, and their radiance fellunexpectedly on Marigny's scowling face, since the discomfitedadventurer could no longer pretend to ignore the Englishman's menace.Still, he was powerless. Though quivering with anger and balkeddesire, he dared not provoke a scene in Cynthia's presence, and hercontinued silence already warned him that she was bewildered if notactually suspicious. He forced a laugh.
"Explanations are like swamps," he said. "The farther you plunge intothem the deeper you sink. So, good-bye! To please you, Mrs. Devar, Ishall crawl. As for Miss Vanrenen, I see that she does not care whatbecomes of me."
Cynthia weakened a little at that. Certainly she wondered why hermodel chauffeur chose to express his opinions so bluntly, whileMarigny's unwillingness to take offense was admirable.
"Is there no better plan?" she asked quickly, for Medenham had startedthe engine, and his hand was on the reversing lever.
"For what?" he demanded.
"For extricating my friend from his difficulty?"
"If he likes to come with us, he can leave his car here all night, andreturn for it to-morrow."
"Perhaps----"
"Please do not trouble yourself in the least on my account," broke inthe Count gayly. "As for abandoning my car, such a stupid notionwould never enter my mind. No, no! I wait for Smith, but you may relyon my appearance in Bristol before you have finished dinner."
Though it was no simple matter to back and turn the Mercury in thatrough and narrow road, Medenham accomplished the maneuver with a skillthat the Frenchman appreciated to the full. For the first time henoted the number when the tail-lamp revealed it.
"X L 4000," he commented to himself. "I must inquire who the owner is.Devar or Smith will know where to apply for the information. And Imust also ascertain that fellow's history. Confound him, and my luck,too! If the Devar woman has any sense she will keep Cynthia well outof his way until the other chauffeur arrives."
As it happened, the "Devar woman" was thinking the same thing at thesame moment, but, being nervous, dared not attempt to utter herthoughts while the car was creeping cautiously over the ruts andstones.
At last, when the highroad was reached, the pace quickened,and she regained the faculty of speech.
"We have had a quite eventful day," she said with an air of motherlysolicitude, turning to the distrait girl by her side. "I am sure youare tired. What between an extra amount of sightseeing and poor CountEdouard's unfortunate mistake, we have been in the car nearly twelvehours."
"How did Fitzroy discover that we had taken the wrong road?" askedCynthia, rousing herself from a perplexed reverie.
"Well, he drove very fast from Cheddar, much too fast, to my thinking,though the risk has been more than justified by circumstances. Ofcourse, it is always easy to be wise after the event. At any rate,there being no sign of your car when we reached the top of a longhill, we--er--we discussed matters, and decided to explore thebyroad."
"Did you remain long in Cheddar? If Fitzroy hit up the pace, why wereyou so far behind?"
"I waited a few minutes to address some postcards. And that remindsme--Fitzroy sent a most impertinent message by one of theservants----"
"Impertinent!"
"My dear, there is no other word for it--something about going offwithout me if I did not start instantly. Really, I shall be glad whenSimmonds takes his place. But there! We must not renew our Bournemouthargument."
"And he caused a servant in the hotel to speak to you in that manner?"
"Yes--the very girl who waited on us at tea--a pert creature, whoseemed to find the task congenial."
Mrs. Devar was building better than she knew. Cynthia laughed, thoughnot with the whole-souled merriment that was music in Medenham's ears.
"She has been properly punished; I forgot to tip her," she explained.
"Count Edouard would see to that----"
"He didn't. I noticed what he paid--out of sheer curiosity. Perhaps Iought to send her something."
"My dear Cynthia!"
But dear Cynthia was making believe to be quite amused by a notionthat had just suggested itself. She leaned forward in the darkness andtouched Medenham's shoulder.
"Do you happen to know the name of the waitress who brought you sometea at Cheddar?" she asked. "None of us gave her anything, and I hateto omit these small items. If I had her name I could forward a postalorder from Bristol."
"There is no need, Miss Vanrenen," said Medenham. "I handed her--well,sufficient to clear all claims."
"_You_ did? But why?"
The temptation to explain that he had never seen the girl before thatday was strong, but he waived it, and contented himself with saying:
"I--er--can't exactly say--force of habit, I imagine."
"Is she a friend of yours?"
"No."
Cynthia subsided into the tonneau.
"Of all the odd things!" she murmured, little dreaming that her chancequestion had sent a thrill of sheer delight through Medenham's everyvein.
"What is it now?" inquired Mrs. Devar vindictively, for she detestedthese half confidences.
"Oh, nothing of any importance. Fitzroy footed the bill, it seems."
"Very probably. He must have bribed the girl to be impudent."
Cynthia left it at that. She wished these people would stop theirquarreling, which threatened to spoil an otherwise perfect day.
The Mercury ran smoothly into ancient Bristol, crossed the Avon by thepontoon bridge, and whirled up the hill to the College Green Hotel.There, on the steps, stood Captain James Devar. Obviously, he did notrecognize them, and Medenham guessed the reason--he expected to meethis mother only, and bestowed no second glance on a car containing twoladies. Indeed, his first words betrayed sheer amazement. Mrs. Devarcried, "Ah, there you are, James!" and James's eyeglass fell from itswell-worn crease.
"Hello, mater!" he exclaimed. "But what's up? Why are you--where isMarigny?"
"Miles away--the silly man ran short of petrol. Fortunately our carcame to the rescue, or it would have been most awkward, since MissVanrenen was with the Count at the time. Cynthia, you have not met myson. James, this is Miss Vanrenen."
The little man danced forward. Like all short and stout mortals, hewas nimble on his feet, and his mother's voluble outburst warned himof an unforeseen hitch in the arrangements.
"Delighted, I'm shaw," said he. "But, by gad, fancy losing poo-awEddie! What have you done with him? Dwiven a stake through him andbuwied him at a cwoss woad?"
Medenham dreaded that the too-faithful Simmonds, car and all, would befound awaiting their arrival, and it was a decided relief when theonly automobile in sight proved to be the state equipage of some localmagnate dining at the hotel. Cynthia, apparently, had shared histhoughts so far as they concerned Simmonds.
"I suppose your friend Simmonds will reveal his whereabouts during theevening," she said, while disencumbering herself of her wraps. Mrs.Devar had already alighted, but the girl was standing in the car andspoke over Medenham's shoulder.
"Of course, he may not be here," was the answer, not given too loudly,since Mrs. Devar had hastened to give details to the perplexed James,and there was no need to let either of them overhear his words.
"Oh my! What will happen, then?"
"In that event, I should feel compelled to take his place again."
"But the compulsion, as you put it, tends rather to take you toLondon."
"I have changed my mind, Miss Vanrenen," he said simply.
She tittered. There was just a spice of coquetry in her manner as shestooped nearer.
"You believe that Simmonds would not have found me in that wretchedlane to-night," she whispered.
"I am quite sure of it."
"But the whole affair was a mere stupid error."
"I am only too glad that I was enabled to put it right," he said withdue gravity.
"Cynthia," came a shrill voice, "do make haste, I am positivelystarving."
"Guess you'd better lose Simmonds," breathed the girl, and anunaccountable fluttering of her heart induced a remarkably high colorin her cheeks when she sped up the steps of the hotel and entered thebrilliantly-lighted atrium.
As for Medenham, though he had carefully mapped out the exact line ofconduct to be followed in Bristol while watching the radiantly whitearc of road that quivered in front of the car during the run from theMendips, for a second or two he dared not trust his voice to ask thehall-porter certain necessary questions. Unaided by the glamor ofbirth or position he had won this delightful girl's confidence. Shebelieved in him now as she would never again believe in Count EdouardMarigny; what that meant in such a moment, none can tell but a devoutlover. Naturally, that was his point of view; it did not occur to himthat Cynthia might already have regretted the impulse which led her toutter her thoughts aloud. Her nature was of the Martian type revealedto Swedenborg in one of his philosophic trances. "The inhabitants ofMars," said he, "account it wicked to think one thing and speakanother--to wish one thing while the face expresses another." HappyMartians, perhaps, but not quite happy Cynthia, still blushing hotlybecause of her daring suggestion as to the disposal of Simmonds.
But she was deeply puzzled by the mishap to the Du Vallon. Unwillingto think evil of anyone, she felt, nevertheless, that Fitzroy (as shecalled him) would never have treated both Mrs. Devar and the Frenchmanso cavalierly if he had not anticipated the very incident thathappened on the Mendips. Why did he turn back? How did he really findout what had become of them? What would Simmonds have done in hisstead? A hundred strange doubts throbbed in her brain, but they werejumbled in confusion before that more intimate and insistentquestion--how would Fitzroy interpret her eagerness to retain him inher service?
Meanwhile, the Swedish seer's theory of Martian speech and thoughtacting in unity was making itself at home on the pavement in front ofthe hotel.
Medenham learnt from the hall-porter that a motor-car had reachedBristol from London about five o'clock. The driver, who was alone, hadasked for Miss Vanrenen, and was told that she was expected but hadnot yet arrived, whereupon he went off, saying that he would callafter dinner.
"Another sh
uffer kem a bit later an' axed the same thing," went on theman, "but he didn't have no car, an' he left no word about callin'again."
"Excellent!" said Medenham. "Now please go and tell Captain Devar thatI wish to see him."
"Here?"
"Yes. I cannot leave my car. He must be at liberty, as he is inevening dress, and the ladies will not come downstairs under half anhour."
Devar soon appeared. His mother had managed to inform him that thesubstituted driver was responsible for the complete collapse ofMarigny's project, and he was puffing with annoyance, though wellaware that he must not display it.
"Well," said he, strutting up to Medenham and blowing a cloud ofcigarette smoke from his thick lips, "well, what is it, my man?"
For answer, Medenham disconnected a lamp and held it close to his ownface.
"Do you recognize me?" he asked.
Devar, in blank astonishment, affected to screw in his eyeglass morefirmly.
"No," he said, "nor am I particularly anxious to make youracquaintance. You have behaved wather badly, I understand, but that isof no consequence now, as Simmonds has bwought his car he-aw----"
"Look again, Devar. We last met in Calcutta, where you swindled me outof fifty pounds. Unfortunately I did not hear of your presence inSouth Africa until you were cashiered at Cape Town, or I might havesaved the authorities some trouble."
The man wilted under those stern eyes.
"Good gad! Medenham!" he stammered.
Medenham replaced the lamp in its socket.
"I am glad you are not trying any pretense," he said. "Otherwise Iwould be forced to take action, with the most lamentable consequencesfor you, Devar. Now, I will hold my hand, provided you obey meimplicitly. Send for your overcoat, go straight to the CentralStation, and travel to London by the next train. You can scribble someexcuse to your mother, but, if I have any cause even to suspect thatyou have told her who I am, I shall not hesitate to put the police onyour track. You must vanish, and be dumb--for three months at least.If you are hard up, I will give you some money--sufficient for afortnight's needs--and you can write to me for further supplies at myLondon address. Even a rascal like you must be permitted to live, Isuppose, so I risk breaking the law myself by screening you fromjustice. Those are my terms. Do you accept them?"
The red face had grown yellow, and the steel-gray eyes that were aheritage of the Devar family glistened with terror, but the manendeavored to obtain mercy.
"Dash it all, Medenham," he groaned, "don't be too hard on me. I'mgoin' stwaight now--'pon me honor. This chap, Marigny----"
"You fool! I offer you liberty and money, yet you try brazenly to getme to fall in with your wretched designs against Miss Vanrenen! Whichis it to be--a police cell or the railway station?"
Medenham moved as if to summon the hall-porter. In a very frenzy offear Devar caught his arm.
"For Gawd's sake----" he whispered.
"You go, then?"
"Yes."
"I am prepared to spare you to the utmost extent. Tell the hall-porterto bring your overcoat and hat, and to give you a sheet of note-paperand an envelope. Show me what you write. If it is satisfactory I shallstart you with twenty pounds. You can send from London to-morrow foryour belongings, as your hotel bill will be paid. But remember! Onetreacherous word from you and I telegraph to Scotland Yard."
Mrs. Devar had a bad quarter of an hour when a penciled note from herson was delivered at her room and she read:
DEAR MATER--I hardly had time to tell you that I am obliged to return to town this evening. Please make my apologies to Miss Vanrenen and Count Marigny. Yours ever, J.
Medenham frowned a little at the reference to Cynthia, but somethingof the sort was necessary if an open scandal was to be avoided. As for"Dear Mater," she was so unnerved that she actually wept. Hard andcalculating though she might be, the man was her son, and the bitterexperiences of twenty years warned her that he had been driven fromBristol by some ghost new risen from an evil past.
Medenham, however, believed that he had settled one difficulty, andprepared blithely to tackle another. He ran the car to the garagewhere he had arranged to meet Dale.
"Have you seen Simmonds?" was his first question.
"Yes, my l----, yes, sir."
"Where is he?"
"Just off for a snack, sir, before goin' to the hotel."
"Bring him here at once. We will attend to the snack afterwards. Nomistake, now, Dale. He must see no one in the hotel until he and Ihave had a talk."
Simmonds was produced. He saluted.
"Glad to meet you again, my lord," he said. "I hope I haven't causedany trouble by sending that telegram to Bournemouth, but Dale tells methat you don't wish your title to be known."
"Forget it," said Medenham. "I have done you a good turn,Simmonds--are you prepared to do me one?"
"Just try me, sir."
"Put your car out of commission. Stick a pin through the earth contactof your magneto and jam it against a cylinder, or something of thesort. Then go to Miss Vanrenen and tell her how sorry you are, but youmust have another week at least to pull things straight. She will notbe vexed, and I guarantee you against any possible loss. To put thebest face on affairs, you had better remain in Bristol a few days atmy expense. Of course, it is understood that I deputize for you duringthe remainder of the tour."
Simmonds, no courtier, grinned broadly, and even Dale winked at theNorth Star; Medenham had steeled himself against such manifestationsof crude opinion--his face was impassive as that of a graven image.
"Of course I'll oblige you in that way, my lord. Who wouldn't?" camethe slow reply.
