I fancy he read my thoughts, for he took the cigar from his mouth and laughed softly.

"Up against it, aren't you?" he said.

At last a gendarme arrived, and five minutes later we were all on the way to the police-station.

This was not to my gentleman's taste, but he was too shrewd a knave to press his point. Honesty was his best policy. He did demand hotly that I should be taken in charge, but I had the better of him in French, and after a moment he let that iron go. He fought very hard for the services of a mechanic, but I was determined that the engine should remain out of action, and, calling for volunteers upon the crowd of unlookers, soon satisfied the gendarme that to push the car to the station was easy enough.

Holding fast to the accomplice, who, for reasons best known to himself, was adopting an injured air in sulky silence, Berry walked by my side.

"What's his game?" he muttered. "In the face of our papers, he's done."

"He'll swear they're his, for a monkey. They're in the car. Probably read them through, while you were looking for me. And all the details are on the Travelling Pass. But he's got to get over the photograph."

"Well, it's up to you," said Berry. "I used to think I could bluff, but this—this is beyond me."

When we arrived at the police-station the chief of the police was summoned, and we told our respective tales.

Our enemy spoke first—shortly, but much to the point.

He was returning, he said, to Pau, where he was staying with friends. Finding that he had run out of petrol, while he was passing through Tarbes, he had turned into a side-street to refill without obstructing a main thoroughfare. As he was starting again, an assault had been made—an unprovoked assault—seriously damaging the car. Thereupon he had sent for the police. Now, foiled in their enterprise, the thieves, he understood, were actually daring to say that he had assaulted them. One of them—he nodded at Berry—had certainly been roughly handled, but, Mon Dieu, what did they expect? (Here he took out his watch and frowned at the dial.) And now would the police get to work? His friends at Pau would be wondering what had become of him.

I admit that you could have pushed me over.

Upon the question of ownership the rogue said not a word. The whole onus of raising that issue he had thrust on to me. I was to broach the barrel of improbability, and by so doing to taint my whole case...

The police were manifestly impressed.

There was no doubt at all that we were up against it.

The asperity with which the official asked me what we had to say sent my heart into my boots.

I started to tell my story.

The moment I said that the car belonged to us, police and robber stared at me as if bewitched. Then the latter exploded.

It was certainly very well done.

Such fulminations of outraged dignity, such out-pourings of righteous indignation, never were witnessed. It took the united sympathy and assurance of the whole personnel of the station, to smooth the ruffian down. After a while, however, he condescended to see the humorous side. The police laughed with him....

Throughout my recital I had to endure the like.

As for the chief of police, he was plainly extremely bored. He listened, patently because it was his duty to let me speak. His cold, indifferent air, the way in which his eyes went straying about the room, were simply maddening.

Desperately endeavouring to keep my temper, I ploughed my way on.

At last—

"Listen," I said dramatically. "You do not believe me. I do not blame you. My friend has told a good tale. At present it is my word against his. Supposing I bring some evidence?"

"What evidence can you bring?"

"The papers belonging to the car." I pointed to the usurper. "On his own showing I cannot have seen them. Yet I will tell you their contents. I pray you, send for them. They're in the left——"

"Wrong, sonny," said my antagonist, tapping his coat. "I always carry 'em here." And, with that, he drew out our wallet and flung it upon the desk.

With our Pass in his hands, the chief of the police blinked at me.

"The chassis number?" he said.

"P 1709."

Up went his eyebrows.

"And on the number-plates?"

"XD 2322."

The official folded the Pass and shook his head.

"Wrong," he said shortly.

As I stared at him, frowning—

"Yes, sonny," said the jeering voice. "An' don't go putting it up that you're J. Mansel, 'cause the picture's against you."

With the words the truth came to me.

It was Ping—Jonah's car—that was standing without in the street. And I had given Pong's numbers....

With a grin of triumph the impostor rose to his feet.

"So that's that," he drawled. "Well, I guess I'll be moving. As for these climbers——"

"Pardon me, sir," said Berry, in pretty fair French, "but you will do nothing of the sort." He turned to the chief of the police and inclined his head. "I am a nobleman, and—I should like a chair."

For a moment the other stared at him; then he sent for a seat. Had I stood in his shoes, I should have done the same. My brother-in-law's air was irresistible.

Berry sat down carefully.

"I shall not," he said, "keep you long. This is not my car. It belongs to my cousin, Captain Jonathan Mansel. Look at the Pass, please, and check me. Captain Mansel was born at Guildford, Surrey, is it not so? Good. Now I have given the birthplace." He shot out an accusing hand. "Ask that gentleman the date."

For the second time the tough exploded, but with a difference. This time the wrath was genuine, the passion real. There was something beastly about it. Beside this paroxysm the other outburst had been almost refined.

The official who had been about to speak looked at the fellow curiously, and when, a moment later, the latter stretched out his hand for the Pass, he held up a prohibitive palm.

As the storm died down—

"Good," said Berry. "The gentleman doesn't want to. The date is December the fifteenth, 1891." He sighed profoundly. Then: "You have a gendarme here," he said musingly, "called Jean Laffargue."

The chief of the police stared.

"Yes, Monsieur. He is there, by the door."

Berry nodded.

"He has a twin brother, hasn't he?"

"Perfectly, Monsieur. He is called 'Francois.'"

"Very likely," said Berry. "Very likely. I call him Herbert!"

"Monsieur le Comte," said Herbert, stepping into the room.

"Ah, Herbert," said Berry airily, "we meet again." He nodded at the official. "Just tell this gentleman about this morning, will you? He would, I think, be interested."

To say that Herbert came up to the scratch is to do scant justice to the testimony which he gave and to the manner in which he gave it. He swore to Berry: he swore to me: and in all honesty he swore to the car. For this, since Ping and Pong were duplicates, he may be forgiven. He described the morning's incident with a wealth of picturesque detail and an abundance of vivid imagery, while an astute cross-examination only served to adorn the sincerity of his tale.

Finally, in response to his entreaties, police and all, we followed him into the street, where, displaying a histrionic ability which was truly French, he proceeded to reconstruct and rehearse his great adventure with the enthusiasm of a zealot.

Watch in hand, Berry touched the chief of the police upon the shoulder.

"By now," he said, "I think my cousin may have reached Pau. If you would like to telephone...."

He stopped suddenly to peer right and left into the darkness.

The gentry had disappeared.

* * * * *

Ten minutes later, with a gendarme on either step, we picked up an anxious Adele. Then we filled up with petrol, had my makeshift connection replaced by a new wire, and started for home.

As we passed the scene of our meeting with Herbert—

"Which goes to prove," said my brother-in-law, "the wisdom of catching at straws. I noticed his likeness to Herbert the moment we entered the room, and, for what it was worth, I kept my eye on him. Then a gendarme came in and whispered. I caught the words 'votre frere.' Laffargue shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the clock. It looked as if his brother was waiting for him to come off duty. I began to wonder whether the two were going to blow my ten francs. During one of the arguments I shot my bolt. I asked him to tell his twin-brother that the Count Blowfly was here and would be glad if he'd wait. He stared rather, but, after a little hesitation, he slipped out of the room. I think my heart stopped beating until he returned. When he looked at me and nodded, I could have screamed with delight...."

For a kilometre or so we sat in silence.

Then—

"It reminds me of poker on board ship," said I. "Our friend of the square jaw cuts in and, with the luck of an outsider, picks up four kings."

"That's it," said Berry. "And we hold three aces."

"Exactly," said I.

"But four kings beat three aces," said Adele.

"You're forgetting Herbert," said I.

"No, I'm not," said my wife. "Herbert's the Ace of Spades."

"No, sweetheart," said Berry. "He's the joker."

* * * * *

It was early upon the following morning that a letter was brought by hand to our door.

DEAR MRS. PLEYDELL,

I'm afraid you must have thought all sorts of things about me after I'd gone yesterday, but I've just this moment had a telegram, and I'm so excited I can hardly write. I know my name now. You see, I used to be the Marquis Lecco. Then, when Father died, they said he'd never been the Duke at all, and so I had no name. But now it's all settled, and they've lost their case. And I can sign myself always,

Yours very sincerely, PADUA.



CHAPTER VI

HOW BERRY RAN CONTRABAND GOODS, AND THE DUKE OF PADUA PLIGHTED JILL HIS TROTH

That Jill was in love with the Duke of Padua was only less manifest than that the Duke of Padua was in love with Jill. Something, however, was wrong. So much our instinct reported. Our reason refused to believe it, and, with one consent, we pretended that all was well. For all that, there lay a shadow athwart the babies' path. Yet the sky was cloudless.... The thing was too hard for us.

With a sigh, I opened my case and took out a cigarette. Then I handed the case to Berry. The latter waved it aside and wrinkled his nose.

"I'm through," he said shortly. "Offal's all very well in an incinerator, if the wind's the right way, but, as a substitute for tobacco—well, it soon palls."

I closed the case and slid it into my pocket.

"I must confess," I said, "that I'm nearing the breaking-point."

"Well, I wish you'd be quick and reach it," said Adele. "How you can go on at all, after finding that fly, I can't imagine."

She shuddered at the memory.

Less than a week ago a suspicious protuberance in the line of a local cigarette had attracted my attention. Investigation had revealed the presence of a perfect, if somewhat withered, specimen of the musca domestica imbedded in the vegetation which I had been proposing to smoke. This was too much for the girls, none of whom had since touched a cigarette, and when my brother-in-law suggested that the fly had probably desired cremation, and urged that, however obnoxious, the wishes of the dead should be respected, Daphne had reviled her husband and requested Jonah to open the door, so that she could sit in a draught.

We were in a bad way.

Now that we were in France, the difficulty of obtaining cigars, cigarettes, or tobacco, such as we were used to enjoy, seemed to be insuperable. The prohibitive duty, the uncertainty and by no means infrequent failure of the French mails, brought the cost of procuring supplies from England to a figure we could not stomach: attempts at postal smuggling had ended in humiliating failure: the wares which France herself was offering were not at all to our taste. We were getting desperate. Jonah, who had smoked the same mixture for thirteen years, was miserable. Berry's affection for a certain brand of cigars became daily more importunate. My liver was suffering....

"We'd better try getting a licence to import," I said heavily. "It may do something."

"Ah," said my brother-in-law, drawing a letter from his pocket, "I knew I had some news for you. I heard from George this morning. I admit I don't often take advice, but this little missive sounds an unusually compelling call.

"Above all, do not be inveigled into obtaining or, worse still, acting upon, a so-called 'licence to import.' It is a copper-bottomed have. I got one, when I was in Paris, gleefully ordered five thousand cigarettes from Bond Street, and started to count the days. I soon got tired of that. Three months later I got a dirty form from the Customs, advising me that there was a case of cigarettes, addressed to me, lying on the wharf at Toulon—yes, Toulon. They added that the charges to be paid before collection amounted to nine hundred francs by way of duty, eleven hundred and sixty-five by way of freight, and another three francs forty for every day they remained in the Custom House. In this connection, they begged to point out that they had already lain there for six weeks. Friend, can you beat it? But what, then, did I do? Why, I took appropriate action. I wrote at once, saying that, as I was shortly leaving for New York, I should be obliged if they would forward them via Liverpool to the Piraeus: I inquired whether they had any objection to being paid in roubles: and I advised them that I was shortly expecting a pantechnicon, purporting to contain furniture, but, in reality, full of mines. These I begged them to handle with great care and to keep in a temperature never higher than thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit, as they were notoriously sensitive, and I particularly wished to receive them intact. I added that the pantechnicon would be consigned to me under another name. A fair knowledge of the French temperament suggests to me that the next two or three furniture vans which arrive at Toulon will be very stickily welcomed."

I threw away my cigarette and stared at the mountains.

"'Though every prospect pleases,'" I murmured, "'and only fags are vile.'"

"The only thing to do," said Adele, "is to have a little sent out from England from time to time, and ration yourselves accordingly."

Berry shook his head.

"Easier to stop altogether," he said. "Tobacco's not like food. (I'm not speaking of the stuff you get here. Some of that is extremely like food—of a sort. I should think it would, as they say, 'eat lovely.') Neither is it like liquor. You don't carry a flask or a bottle of beer in your hip-pocket—more's the pity. But nobody's equipment is complete without a case or a pouch. Why? So that the moment this particular appetite asserts itself, it can be gratified. No. Smoking's a vice; and as soon as you clap a vice in a strait-jacket, it loses its charm. A cigar three times a day after meals doesn't cut any ice with me." He tilted his hat over his eyes and sank his chin upon his chest. "And now don't talk for a bit. I want to concentrate."

Adele laid a hand upon his arm.

"One moment," she said. "If the car arrives before you've finished, are we to interrupt you?"

"Certainly not, darling. Signal to the driver to stop in the middle distance. Oh, and ask approaching pedestrians to keep on the grass. Should any children draw near, advise their nurse that I have the mumps."

We were sitting upon a seat in the Parc Beaumont, revelling in the temper of the sunshine and the perfection of the air. A furlong away, Daphne, Jill, and Jonah were playing tennis, with Piers, Duke of Padua, to make a fourth. Nobby and a fox-terrier were gambolling upon an adjacent lawn.

Pau has many virtues, all but one of which may, I suppose, be severally encountered elsewhere upon the earth. The one, however, is her peculiar. The place is airy, yet windless. High though she stands, and clear by thirty miles of such shelter as the mountains can give, by some queer trick of Nature's, upon the map of AEolus Pau and her pleasant precincts are shown as forbidden ground. There is no stiff breeze to rake the boulevard: there are no gusts to buffet you at corners: there are no draughts in the streets. The flow of sweet fresh air is rich and steady, but it is never stirred. A mile away you may see dust flying; storm and tempest savage the Pyrenees: upon the gentlest day fidgety puffs fret Biarritz, as puppies plague an old hound. But Pau is sanctuary. Once in a long, long while some errant blast blunders into the town. Then, for a second of time, the place is Bedlam. The uncaught shutters are slammed, the unpegged laundry is sent whirling, and, if the time is evening, the naked flames of lamps are blown out. But before a match can be lighted, the air is still again. And nobody cares. It was an accident, and Pau knows it. Probably the gust had lost its way and was frightened to death. Such a thing will not happen again for two or three months....

"I like Piers," said Adele suddenly. "But I think he might kiss my hand."

"How dare you?" said I.

"I do really," said Adele. "He kisses Daphne's and he actually kisses Jill's."

"That's all wrong," said I. "You don't kiss a maiden's hand."

"Of course you do," grunted Berry. "A well-bred son of Italy——"

"But he isn't a son of Italy. He's English on both sides."

"I'm not talking of his sides," said Berry. "It's a matter of bosom. You may have English forbears, but if they've been Italian dukes for two centuries, it's just possible that they've imbibed something besides Chianti. Personally, I think it's a very charming custom. It saves wiping your mouth, and——"

"Well, why doesn't he kiss my hand?" said Adele.

"Because, sweetheart, you are—were American. And—he's very punctilious—he probably thinks that a quondam citizen might have no use for such circumstance."

"I should," said Adele. "I should just love it. I like Piers."

I looked across at my brother-in-law.

"D'you hear that?" I inquired. "She likes him."

Berry shrugged his shoulders.

"I told her not to marry you," he said.

"No, you didn't," said Adele. "You egged me on."

"Oh, you wicked story," said Berry. "Why, I fairly spread myself on the brutality of his mouth."

"You said he was honest, sober, and hard-working."

"Nonsense," said Berry. "I was talking of somebody else. I have seen him sober, of course, but—— Besides, you were so precipitate. You had an answer for everything. When I spoke of his ears, you said you'd get used to them: and when I asked you if you'd noticed——"

"I shan't," said Adele. "I mean, I didn't. However, it's done now. And, after all, he's very convenient. If we hadn't got married, I shouldn't have wintered at Pau. And if I hadn't wintered at Pau, I shouldn't have met Piers."

"True," said Berry, "true. There's something in that." He nodded in my direction. "D'you find he snores much?"

"Nothing to speak of," said Adele. "Used he to?"

"Like the devil," said Berry. "The vibration was fearful. We had to have his room underpinned."

"Oh, he's quite all right now," said my wife. "Indeed, as husbands go, he's—he's very charming."

"You don't mean to say you still love him?"

"I—I believe I do."

"Oh, the girl's ill," said Berry. "Put your head between your knees, dear, and think of a bullock trying to pass through a turnstile. And why 'as husbands go'? As a distinguished consort, I must protest against that irreverent expression."

"Listen," said Adele, laughing. "All women adore ceremonious attention—even Americans. The ceremonious attentions of the man they love are the sweetest of all. It's the tragedy of every happy marriage that, when comradeship comes in at the door, ceremony flies out of the window. Now, my husband's my king. Once he was my courtier. I wouldn't go back for twenty million worlds, but—I've got a smile for the old days."

"I know," said Berry softly. "I know. Years ago Daphne told me the same. And I tried and tried.... But it wouldn't work somehow. She was very sweet about it, and very wise. 'Ceremony,' she said, 'gets as far as the finger-tips.' I vowed I'd carry it further, but she only smiled.... We retired there and then, ceremoniously enough, to dress for dinner. I'd bathed and changed and got as far as my collar, when the stud fell down my back. I pinched it between my shoulder-blades. At that moment she came to the door to see if I was ready...." He spread out expressive hands. "They talk about the step from the sublime to the ridiculous. We didn't use any stairs; we went down in the lift. After that I gave up trying. A sense of humour, however, has pulled us through, and now we revile one another."

"And so, you see," said Adele, slipping an arm through mine, "Piers has wares to offer me which you haven't. The shame of it is, he won't offer them. Still, he's very nice. The way in which he solemnly takes us all for granted is most attractive. He's as natural as a baby a year old. He just bows very courteously and then joins in the game. The moment it's over, he makes his bow and retires. We call him Piers: he calls us by our Christian names—and we haven't known him a week. It's not self-confidence; it's just pure innocence."

"I confess it's remarkable," said I. "And I don't wonder you like him. All the same, I'm sorry——"

"There!" cried Adele suddenly, pointing across the lawn. "Boy, he's gone in again."

I reached the edge of the ornamental water in time to observe the Sealyham emerge upon the opposite bank.

"You naughty dog," said I. "You naughty, wicked dog." Nobby shook himself gleefully. "No, don't come across. Go round the other way. Go back!"

The dog hesitated, and, by way of turning the scale, I threw my stick for him to retrieve. As this left my hand, the hook caught in my cuff, and the cane fell into mid-stream....

As Nobby climbed out with the stick, the park-keeper arrived—a crabbed gentleman, in a long blue cloak and the deuce of a stew.

The swans, he said, would be frightened. (There was one swan, three hundred yards away.) Always they were being pursued by bold dogs. Mon Dieu, but it was shameful. That hounds should march unled in the Parc Beaumont was forbidden—absolutely. Not for them to uproot were the trees and flowers planted. Where, then, was my attachment? And I had encouraged my dog. Actually I had made sport for him. He had seen the deed with his eyes....

One paw raised, ears pricked, his little head on one side, his small frame quivering with excitement, his bright brown eyes alight with expectation, a dripping Nobby regarded us....

I took a note from my pocket.

"He is a wicked dog," I said. "There. He pays his fine. As for me, I shall be punished enough. My home is distant, and I was to have driven. Now he is wet and must grow dry, so I must walk. I will think out his punishment as I go." And, with that, I hooked my cane to the delinquent's collar and turned away.

"Pardon, Monsieur." The old fellow came shambling after us. "Pardon, but do not punish him, I pray you." Nobby screwed round his head and looked at him. "Oh, but how handsome he is! Perhaps he did not understand. And I should be sorry to think ..." Nobby started towards him and moved his tail. "See how he understands. He has the eyes of a dove." He stooped to caress his protege. "Ah, but you are cold, my beauty. Unleash him, Monsieur, I pray you, that he may warm himself. I shall not notice him." As I did his bidding, and Nobby capered away, "Bon," he said pleasedly. "Bon. Au revoir, mon beau." He straightened his bowed shoulders and touched his hat. "A votre service, Monsieur."

I returned thoughtfully to where Adele and Berry were sitting, watching us closely and pretending that we did not belong to them. So far as personal magnetism was concerned, between Nobby and the Duke of Padua there seemed to be little to choose. To judge by results, the two were equally irresistible. In the race for the Popularity Stakes the rest of the males of our party were simply nowhere.

With a sigh, a blue coupe slid past me and then slowed down. The grey two-seater behind it did the same. When I say that Daphne, who loathes mechanics, was seated in the latter conveyance, submitting zealously to an oral examination by Piers regarding the particular functions of the various controls, it will be seen that my recent conclusions were well founded.

"Letters," said Jill, getting out of the coupe. "One for Berry and two for Adele." She distributed them accordingly. "Fitch brought them up on his bicycle. And Piers' aunt is coming—the one whose villa he's at. I forgot her name, but he says she's awfully nice."

"Splendid," said I. "And now congratulate me. Having tramped the town all the morning, I've got to walk home."

"Why?"

I pointed to Nobby.

"That he may warm himself," I said.

My cousin gave a horrified cry.

"Oh, Boy! And we only washed him last night."

"I'll take him," cried Piers. "I'd like to. And you can drive Daphne back."

I shook my head, laughing.

"It's his master's privilege," I said. "Besides, he's had his scolding, and if I deserted him he'd be hurt. And he's really a good little chap."

"But——"

"My dear Piers," said Daphne, laying a hand on his arm, "rather than risk hurting that white scrap's feelings, my brother would walk to Lyons."

"You will all," said Berry, "be diverted to learn that I am faced with the positively filthy prospect of repairing to London forthwith. After spending a quarter of an hour in an overheated office in New Square, Lincoln's Inn, in the course of which I shall make two affidavits which nobody will ever read, I shall be at liberty to return. Give me the Laws of England."

"Never mind, old chap," said Daphne. "We'll soon be back again. I shall go with you, of course. Ought we to start to-night?"

Considering that there was snow in London, that the visit would entail almost continuous travelling for nearly thirty hours each way, and that my sister cannot sleep in a train, it seemed as if Berry, at any rate, was pulling out of the ruck.

"My sweet," replied my brother-in-law, "I won't hear of it. However, we'll argue it out in private. Yes, I must start to-night."

"You must go?" said Jonah softly.

"Can't get out of it."

"Right." My cousin leaned out of the car. "I'll give you my tobacconist's address. The best way will be to have the stuff decanted and sewn in your coat."

There was a pregnant silence.

Then—

"Saved!" I cried exultantly. "Saved!"

"What d'you mean—'Saved'?" said Berry.

"Hush," said I, looking round. "Not an 'h' mute! This summons of yours is a godsend. With a little ingenuity, you can bring enough contraband in to last us till May."

* * * * *

If our efforts to induce my brother-in-law to see reason were eventually successful, this was no more than we deserved. We made light of the risk of detection, we explained how the stuff could be concealed, we told him the demeanour to assume, we said we wished we were going, we declared it was done every day, we indemnified him against fines, we entreated, we flattered, we cajoled, we appealed to him "as a sportsman," we said it was "only right," we looked unutterable things, and at last, half an hour before it was time for him to start for the station, he promised, with many misgivings and expressions of self-reproach, to see what he could do. Instantly, from being his suppliants, we became his governors; and the next twenty minutes were employed in pouring into his ears the most explicit directions regarding his purchase and disposal of our particular fancies. Finally we made out a list....

He had absolutely refused to allow my sister to accompany him, but we all went down to the station to see him off.

As we were pacing the platform—

"Have you got the list?" said Jonah.

The same question had been asked before—several times.

"Yes," said Berry, "I have. And if anybody asks me again, I shall produce it and tear it into shreds before their eyes."

"Well, for Heaven's sake, don't lose it," said I, "because——"

"To hear you," said Berry, "anybody would think that I was mentally deficient. Anybody would think that I was going to enclose it in a note to the Customs, telling them to expect me on Saturday, disguised in a flat 'at and a bag of gooseberries, and advising them to pull up their socks, as I should resist like a madman. I don't know what's the matter with you."

We endeavoured to smooth him down.

"And if," purred Daphne, "if there should be any—that is—what I mean is, should any question arise——"

Berry laughed hysterically.

"Yes," he said, "go on. 'Any question.' Such as whether they can give me more than five years' hard labour. I understand."

"—get on the telephone to Berwick. He knows the President personally and can do anything."

"Sweetheart," replied her husband, "you may bet your most precious life.... If Berwick wasn't in Paris, I wouldn't touch the business with the end of a forty-foot pole."

"I wish I was going with you," said Daphne wistfully.

Berry took off his hat.

"You are," he said gently, "you are." He laid his hand upon his heart. "I wish I could put the tobacco in the same poor place. But that's impossible. For one thing, lady, you've all the room there is."

Which was pretty good for a king who hadn't been a courtier for nearly nine years.

* * * * *

It was upon the following afternoon that Adele, who was brushing Nobby, sat back on her heels.

"When Jill," she said, "becomes the Duchess of Padua, what bloods we shall be."

"She isn't there yet," said I.

"Where?"

"My sweet," said I, "I apologise. I was using a figure of speech, which is at once slipshod and American."

"That," said my wife, "is the worst of being English. You're like the Indian tailor who was given a coat to copy and reproduced a tear in the sleeve. Imitation can be too faithful. Never mind. I forgive you."

"D'you hear that, Nobby?" The terrier started to his feet. "Did you hear what the woman said? That we, who have founded precedents from time immemorial—that you and I, who taught America to walk——"

"He's Welsh," said Adele.

"I don't care. It's scandalous. Who defiled the Well of English? And now we're blamed for drinking the water."

Adele looked out of the window and smiled at a cloud.

"Once," she said slowly, "once I asked you if you would have known I was an American.... And when you said 'Yes,' I asked you why.... Do you remember your answer? ... Of course," she added swiftly, "that was before we were married."

"You beautiful witch," said I. "You unkind, beautiful witch. You've only to touch the water with the tip of your little red tongue to make it pure. You've only to put your lips to it to make it the sweetest music that ever a poor fool heard. You've only to smile like that to make me proud to kiss your shining foot."

"Nobby!" cried Adele. "Oh, Nobby! Did you hear that? Did you hear what the man said? A real courtier's speech! But how can he kiss my feet when I'm sitting on them?"

I stepped to her side, picked her up, and swung her on to a table.

Then I kissed her sweet insteps.

From her perch my wife addressed the Sealyham.

"It's all right, Nobby," she said relievedly. "He is a king, after all. Only a king would have done that."

As I sat down by her side—

"I'd love to be a queen," cried a voice. "Love to. Wouldn't you like to be a king?"

It was Jill speaking.

The fresh tones came floating up and in at the open window. She could not have heard our words. It was pure coincidence.

Adele and I sat very still.

"I don't know," said Piers slowly.

"I'll tell you what I'd do," said Jill. "I'd—Piers, what is the matter?"

"Nothing," said Piers.

"There is," said Jill accusingly. "You know there is. I can see it in your eyes. What are you thinking about?"

"I—I don't know," stammered her swain.

"I think you might tell me," said Jill aggrievedly. "I always tell you everything. Once or twice lately you've got all quiet suddenly—I can't think why. Is it because your aunt's coming?"

Piers laughed bitterly.

"Good Heavens, no," he said.

"Well, why is it, then?"

For a moment there was no answer.

Then all of a sudden the sluice-gate of speech was pulled up.

"Oh, Jill, Jill, Jill... I could go on saying your name for the rest of my life! I say it all the way home. I say it as I'm going to sleep. I say it when I wake in the morning... I saw you first at Biarritz. You never knew. I was staying with some Italian people. They've got a place there. And I was alone in the grounds. And then I saw you—with Boy. You looked so wonderful.... All in green you were, standing with your feet close together, and your head on one side. Your hair was coming down, and the sun was shining on it.... I found out who you were, and came to Pau. I wanted to get to know you. I felt I must. And, whenever you all went out, I followed in the two-seater. And then—I got to know you—at St. Bertrand—that wonderful, wonderful day.... I—was—so—awfully—happy.... And now"—his voice sank to a wail—"I wish I hadn't. If only I'd stopped to think.... But I didn't. I just knew I wanted to be with you, and that was all. Oh," he burst out suddenly, "why did I ever do it? Why did I ever follow you—that wonderful day? If I'd dreamed how miserable it'd make me, how miserably wretched I'd be... It's the dreadful hopelessness, Jill, the dreadful hopelessness.... But I can't help it. It's something stronger than me. It's not enough to be with you. I want to touch you: I want to put my arms round your neck: I want to play with your hair.... Of course I'm terribly lucky to be able to kiss your hand, but—— Ah, don't be frightened. I was—only playing, Jill, only pretending. And now I'm going to be all serious again—not quiet, but serious. Good-bye, Madonna. Have you ever seen Pagliacci? Where the fellow bursts into tears? I think I could do that part this afternoon...."

A light padding upon the gravel came to our ears.

Then a car's door slammed.

A moment later Piers' two-seater purred its way down the drive....

Adele and I continued to sit very still.

Presently I turned to her and raised my eyebrows.

"Hopelessness?" I whispered. "Hopelessness? What on earth does he mean?"

My wife shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

Then she laid a finger upon her lips.

I nodded obediently.

* * * * *

"Yes," said Berry, "you see in me a nervous wreck. My heart's misfiring, I'm over at the knees, and with the slightest encouragement I can break into a cold sweat."

He sank into a chair and covered his eyes....

I had meant to meet him at the station, but the early train had beaten me, so Fitch had gone with the car. Indeed, it was not yet eight o'clock, and Daphne was still abed. That had not prevented us from following Berry into her room, any more than had the fact that no one of us was ready for breakfast. I had no coat or waistcoat: so far as could be seen, Jonah was attired in a Burberry and a pair of trousers: a glance at Adele suggested that she was wearing a fur coat, silk stockings, and a tortoise-shell comb, while Jill was wrapped in a kimono, with her fresh fair hair tumbled about her shoulders.

Jonah voiced our anxiety.

"You—you've got the goods?"

"They're downstairs," said Berry. "But don't question me. I can't bear it. I'll tell you all in a minute, but you must let me alone. Above all, don't thwart me. I warn you, my condition is critical."

He sighed heavily.

Apparently impressed by his demeanour, Nobby approached, set his paws upon his knee, and licked his face.

"There you are," said Berry, lifting the dog to his lap. "The very fowls of the air pity me. No, it's not a sore, old chap. It's where I cut myself yesterday. But I'm just as grateful. And now lie still, my beauty, and poor old Sit-tight the Smuggler will tell you such a tale as will thicken your blood.

"Upon Friday morning last I purchased a uniform-case. Not a new one—the oldest and most weather-beaten relic I could procure. On Friday evening I packed it. One thousand cigars, five thousand cigarettes, and six pounds of tobacco looked very well in it. My sword, a pair of field boots, breeches, coat—carefully folded to display the staff badges—and my red hat looked even better. I filled up with socks, shirts, puttees, slacks, spurs and all the old emblems of Mars that I could lay my hands on. Finally I leavened the lot with a pound of the best white pepper—to discourage the moths, my fellow, to discourage the moths."

His tone suggesting the discomfiture of the wicked, the Sealyham barked his applause.

"Quite so. Well, I locked the case up and corded it, and precisely at ten o'clock I retired to bed.

"I never remember feeling so full of beans as I did the next morning. I could have bluffed my way across Europe with a barrel of whiskey on a lead. I felt ready for anything. Sharp at a quarter to eleven I was at the station, and one minute later a porter, with the physique of a blacksmith, had the box on his shoulder and my dressing-case in his hand.

"It was as he was preparing to lay his spoils at the feet of the registration-monger that my bearer trod upon a banana-skin.... To say that he took a toss, conveys nothing at all. It was the sort of fall you dream of—almost too good to be true. And my uniform-case, of which he never let go, described a very beautiful parabola, and then came down upon the weigh-bridge, as the swiple of an uplifted flail comes down upon grain....

"Both hinges went, of course. It says much for the box that the whole thing didn't melt then and there. If I hadn't corded it, most of the stuff would have been all over the Vauxhall Bridge Road.

"Well, I was so rattled that I could hardly think. I joined mechanically in the laughter, I assured complete strangers that it didn't matter at all, I carried through the registration like a man in a dream, and I tipped everybody I could see. It was as I was thrusting blindly towards the gates that I first realised that half the people in the place were sneezing to glory. I was still digesting this phenomenon when I sneezed myself....

"Still it never occurred to me. There are times when you have to be told right out. I didn't have to wait long.

"As I presented my ticket, a truck full of luggage was pushed through the gate next to mine. The porters about it were sneezing bitterly. 'Snuff?' said one of them contemptuously. 'Snuff be blarsted! It's pepper!'

"Whether at that moment my stomach in fact slipped or not I am unable to say, but the impression that my contents had dropped several inches was overwhelming.

"I staggered into the Pullman, more dead than alive.... After a large barley and a small water, I felt somewhat revived, but it was not until the train was half-way to Dover that I had myself in hand. I was just beginning under the auspices of a second milk and soda, to consider my hideous plight, when a genial fool upon the opposite side of the table asked me if I had 'witnessed the comedy at Victoria.' Icily I inquired: 'What comedy?' He explained offensively that 'some cuckoo had tried the old wheeze of stuffing pepper in his trunk to put off the Customs,' and that the intended deterrent had untimely emerged. My brothers, conceive my exhilaration. 'The old wheeze.' I could have broken the brute's neck. When he offered me a filthy-looking cigar with a kink in it, and said with a leer that I shouldn't 'get many like that on the other side of the Chops,' I could have witnessed his mutilation unmoved....

"Still, it's an ill wind.... The swine's words were like a spur. I became determined to get the stuff through.

"Grimly I watched the case go on to the boat, to the accompaniment of such nasal convulsions as I had never believed to be consistent with life itself. By way of diverting suspicion, I asked one of the crew what was the matter. His blasphemous answer was charged with such malignity that I found it necessary to stay myself with yet another still lemonade.

"Arrived at Calais, I hurried on board the train.

"The journey to Paris was frightful. The nearer we got, the more dishevelled became my wits. The power of concentration deserted me. Finally, as we were running in, I found that I had forgotten the French for 'moths.' I'd looked it out the night before: I'd been murmuring it all day long: and now, at the critical moment, it had deserted me. I clasped my head in my hands and thought like a madman. Nothing doing. I thought all round it, of course. I thought of candles and camphor and dusk. My vocabulary became gigantic, but it did not include the French equivalent for 'moths.' In desperation I approached my vis-a-vis and, in broken accents, implored him to tell me 'the French for the little creatures which you find in your clothes.'...

"I like the French. If I'd asked an Englishman, he'd have pulled the communication-cord, but this fellow never so much as stared. He just released a little spurt of good-will and then started in, as if his future happiness depended on putting me straight. 'But I was meaning the fleas. Oh, indubitably. Animals most gross. Only last November he himself....' It took quite a lot of persuasion to get him off fleas. Then he offered me lice. I managed to make him understand that the attack was delivered when the clothes were unoccupied. Instantly he suggested rats. With an effort I explained that the things I meant were winged. As the train came to a standstill, he handed me 'chauvesouris.' Bats! I ask you....

"I stepped on to the platform as if I was descending into my tomb. How I got to the baggage-room, I'm hanged if I know; but I remember standing there, shivering and wiping the sweat off my face. Truck by truck the registered baggage appeared....

"I heard my case coming for about a quarter of a mile.

"The architecture of the baggage-room at the Gare du Nord may be crude, but its acoustic properties are superb. The noise which accompanied the arrival of the cortege was simply ear-splitting. I was in the very act of wondering whether, if I decided to retire, my legs would carry me, when, with a crash, my uniform-case was slammed on to the counter three paces away....

"A cloud of pepper arose from it, and in an instant all was confusion. Passengers and porters in the vicinity dropped everything and made a rush for the doors. A Customs official, who was plumbing the depths of a basket-trunk, turned innocently enough to see the case smoking at his elbow, dropped his cigar into some blouses, let out the screech of a maniac and threw himself face downward upon the floor. Somebody cried: 'Women and children first!' And, the supreme moment having arrived, I—I had the brain-wave.

"I stepped to the case and, with most horrible oaths, flung my hat upon the ground, smote upon the counter with my fist and started to rave like a fanatic. I made the most awful scene. I roared out that it was my box, and that it and its contents were irretrievably ruined. Gradually curiosity displaced alarm, and people began to return. I yelled and stamped more than ever. I denounced the French railways, I demanded the station-master, I swore I'd have damages, I tore off the cords, I lifted the lid, I alternately sneezed and raged, and, finally, I took out my tunic and shook it savagely. In vain the excisemen insisted that it was not their business. I cursed them bitterly, jerked an ounce of pepper out of a pair of brogues, and replied that they were responsible....

"It was after I had shaken my second pair of slacks that the officials, with streaming eyes, began to beseech me to unpack the case no further. If only they'd known, I didn't need much inducing. I could see the shape of a cigarette-box under one of my shirts. Of course I argued a bit, for the look of the thing, but eventually I allowed myself to be persuaded and shoved the kit back. Finally they scrawled all over the lid with pieces of chalk, and, vowing the most hideous vengeance and invoking the British Ambassador, I stalked in the wake of my box out of the station.

"I was through.

"I had my dinner in bed. I think I deserved it. Still, I suppose it was indiscreet to have ordered lobster a la Newburg. I have slept better. I was sleeping better at half-past eight the next morning, when a waiter entered to say that there was an official to see me from the Gare du Nord....

"Believing it to be another dream, I turned over and shut my eyes. The waiter approached and, touching me on the arm, repeated his ghastly communication. With a frightful effort I explained that I had the ague and could see nobody for some days. Mercifully he retired, and for a little space I lay in a sort of trance. After a bit I began to wonder what, in the name of Heaven, I was to do. I was afraid to get up, and I was afraid to stay in bed. I was afraid to stop in the hotel, and I was terrified of meeting the official downstairs. I was afraid to leave the case there, and I was still more afraid to take it away. I was getting hungry, and I was afraid to ring for breakfast. It was a positively poisonous position. Finally, after a lot of thought, I got up, bolted the door, unpacked the blasted box and shoved all the tobacco in the drawers of the wardrobe. Luckily there was a key. The kit I disposed naturally enough. Then I had a bath and dressed.

"As I was fastening my collar, the telephone went. It was the Gare du Nord. I jammed the receiver back.

"As I passed through the hall, a clerk dashed after me 'The Gare du Nord,' he said, 'were insisting upon seeing me about a case of mine.' I replied that I was busy all day, and could see nobody before six o'clock. I didn't mention that my train went at five. It was as well I didn't argue, for, as I left the hotel, a station official entered. I leapt into a taxi and told the driver to go to Notre Dame. Not that I felt like Church, but it was the first place I could think of. Somebody shouted after me, but—well, you know how they drive in Paris. I stopped round the second corner, discharged the taxi, and walked to a restaurant. By rights, I should have been ravenous. As it was, the food stuck in my throat. A bottle of lime-juice, however, pulled me together. After luncheon I went to a cinema—I had to do something. Besides, the darkness attracted me.... I fancy I dozed for a bit. Any way, the first thing I remember was a couple of men being arrested in the lounge of a hotel. It was most realistic. What was more, the clerk who had run after me in the morning and the clerk on the screen might have been twins.... I imagine that my hair rose upon my head, and for the second time it seemed certain that I had mislaid my paunch.

"I got out of the place somehow, to find that it was snowing. For the next hour I drove up and down the Champs Elysees. I only hope the driver enjoyed it more than I did. At last, when pneumonia seemed very near, I told him to drive to the hotel.

"I fairly whipped through the hall and into the lift. As this ascended, a page arrived at the gate and spoke upward. I didn't hear what he said.

"When I was in a hot bath, the telephone went. I let the swine ring. Finally somebody came and knocked at the door. Of my wisdom I hadn't bolted it, so, after waiting a little, they entered. I lay in the bath like the dead. After a good look round, they went away....

"By twenty past four I'd dressed, and repacked the case. I rang for a porter, told him to shove it on a taxi, and descended to settle my bill. Mercifully, the clerk who had stopped me in the morning was off duty. I could have squealed with delight. I paid my reckoning, tipped about eight people I'd never seen before, and climbed into the cab. Ten minutes later I was at the Quai d'Orsay.

"By the time I was in the wagon lit it was ten minutes to five....

"I sank down upon the seat in silent gratitude. The comfortable glow of salvation began to steal over my limbs. I looked benevolently about me. I reflected that, after all, the last thirty hours of my life had been rich with valuable experience. Smilingly I decided not to regret them. When I thought of the scene in the baggage-room, I actually laughed. Then the conductor put his head in at the door and said that there was somebody to see me from the Gare du Nord."

Berry suspended his recital and buried his face in his hands.

"I shall never be the same again," he said brokenly. "Never again. Up to then I had a chance—a sporting chance of recovery. At that moment it snapped. In a blinding flash I saw what a fool I'd been. If I'd only stayed on the platform, if I'd only gone into the restaurant car, if I'd only locked myself in a lavatory till the train had started, I should have been all right. As it was, I was caught—bending.

"It was the official I'd seen in the morning all right. After a preliminary flurry of ejaculation, he locked the door behind him and began to talk.... Don't ask me what he said, because I didn't hear. When the rope's round your neck, you're apt to miss the subtleties of the hangman's charge. After a time I realised that he was asking me a question. I stared at him dully and shook my head. With a gesture of despair, he glanced at his watch.

"'Monsieur,' he said, 'the train departs. I have sought you all day. The superintendent has told me to speak with you at all costs—to beg that you will lodge no complaint. He is desolated that your baggage was injured. It is a misfortune frightful. He cannot think how it has occurred. But to complain—no. I will tell Monsieur the truth. Twice in the last half-year an English officer's baggage has gone astray. But one more complaint from your Embassy, and the superintendent will be replaced. And in ten short days, Monsieur, he will have won his pension.... Ah, Monsieur, be merciful.'

"I was merciful.

"I waved the fellow away and swore haltingly that I would say nothing. We mingled a few tears, and he got out as the train was moving....

"And there you are. I'd got my reprieve. Everything in the garden was lovely. But I couldn't enjoy it. My spirits failed to respond." He took the Sealyham's head between his hands and gazed into his eyes.

"O Nobwell, Nob-well! Had I but seen the fool at half-past eight As he desired, he would not in the train Have put the wind up me so hellishly."

There was a moment's silence.

Then Jonah stepped to my brother-in-law and clapped him on the back.

"Brother," he said, "I take my hat off. I tell you frankly I couldn't have done it. I wouldn't have claimed that case at Paris for a thousand pounds."

Clamorously we endorsed his approval.

By way of acknowledgment the hero groaned.

"What you want," said I, "is a good night's rest. By mid-day to-morrow you'll be touching the ground in spots."

"I shan't be touching it at all," said Berry. "If it's nice and warm, I shall have a Bath chair, which you and Jonah will propel at a convenient pace. Nobby will sit at my feet as a hostage against your careless negotiation of gradients." He drew a key from his pocket and pitched it on to a table. "I fancy," he added, "I heard them put the case on the landing: and as I propose, decorative though it is, to remove my beard, perhaps one of you wasters will fetch me a cigarette."

There was a rush for the door.

True enough, the uniform-case was outside.

Jonah and I had its cords off in twenty seconds.

One hinge was broken and some khaki was protruding.

Adele thrust the key into the lock. This was too stiff for her fingers, so after a desperate struggle, she let me have at the wards....

After an exhausting two minutes we sent for a cold-chisel....

As the lock yielded, Berry appeared upon the scene.

For a moment he stared at us. Then—

"But why not gun-cotton?" he inquired. "That's the stuff to open a broken box with, if you don't like the look of the key. You know, you're thwarting me. And don't try to turn the lid back, because there aren't any hin——"

The sentence was never finished.

As I lifted the lid, my brother-in-law fell upon his knees. With trembling hands he plucked at a Jaeger rug, reposing, carefully folded, upon the top of some underclothes. Then he threw back his head and took himself by the throat.

"Goats and monkeys!" he shrieked. "It's somebody else's case!"

* * * * *

When, twenty-four hours later, a letter arrived from Piers' aunt, inviting us all to tea, we accepted, not because we felt inclined to go junketing, but because we did not wish to seem rude.

We were in a peevish mood. For this the loss of our forbidden fruit was indirectly responsible. The immediate cause of our ill-humour was the exasperating reflection that we were debarred from taking even those simple steps which lead to the restoration of lost luggage. We stood in the shoes of a burglar who has been robbed of his spoils. As like as not, our precious uniform-case was lying at the station, waiting to be claimed. Yet we dared not inquire, because of what our inquiries might bring forth. Of course the authorities might be totally ignorant of its contents. But then, again, they might not. It was a risk we could not take. The chance that, by identifying our property, we might be at once accusing and convicting ourselves of smuggling a very large quantity of tobacco, was too considerable. There were moments when Jonah and I, goaded to desperation, felt ready to risk penal servitude and 'have a dart' at the bait. But Berry would not permit us. If things went wrong, he declared, he was bound to be involved—hideously. And he'd had enough of thin ice. The wonder was, his hair wasn't white.... By the time we had swung him round, our own courage had evaporated.

As for Piers, no one of us had seen or heard from him for five whole days. Ever since his extraordinary outburst upon the verandah, the boy had made himself scarce. While we were all perplexed, Jill took his absence to heart. She mourned openly. She missed her playfellow bitterly, and said as much. And when three days had gone by and the last post had brought no word of him, she burst into tears. The next morning there were rings beneath her great grey eyes. She was far too artless to pretend that she did not care. Such a course of action never occurred to her. She had no idea, of course, that she was in love.

All the same, when upon Wednesday afternoon the cars were waiting to take us to tea with Mrs. Waterbrook, my cousin leaned over the banisters with a bright red spot upon either cheek.

"I say," she cried, "I'm not coming."

One and all, we stared up amazedly.

"Not coming?" cried Daphne. "But, darling——"

Jill stamped her small foot.

"N-no," she said shakily. "I'm not. And—and, if he asks after me, say I'm awfully well, but I felt I wanted a walk. I'm going to take Nobby out."

Her skirts whirled, and she was gone.

Adele flew after her, while the rest of us stood whispering in the hall. Five minutes later the two descended together. But while we others climbed into the cars, Jill twitched a lead from the rack and took her stand upon the steps, with Nobby leaping for joy about her sides. And when she cried "Good-bye," there was a ring in her tone which sounded too glad to be true.

Mrs. Waterbrook was perfectly charming.

As we were ushered into a really beautiful salon, she rose from a little bureau—a tall, graceful figure, with masses of pretty grey hair and warm brown eyes.

"My dear," she said to Daphne, "what a beautiful creature you are!" She turned to Adele. "As for you, if I were your husband, I'm afraid I should have a swelled head. Which is he? Ah, I see by the light in his eyes.... Of course, I ought to have called upon you, but I'm lazy by nature, and my car won't be here till to-morrow. And now I must thank you for being so kind to Piers. He ought to be here, of course. But where he is, I don't know. I've hardly seen him since I arrived. He seems to be crazy about his uncomfortable car. Went to Bordeaux and back yesterday—three hundred miles, if you please. I feel weak when I think of it. And now please tell me about yourselves. Beyond that you're all delightful, I've heard nothing from him."

I would not have believed that one woman could entertain five strangers with such outstanding success. Within five minutes Jonah and Daphne were by her side upon the sofa, Adele was upon the hearth at their feet. Berry was leaning against the mantelpiece, and I was sitting upon the arm of an adjacent chair, describing our meeting with Piers a fortnight ago.

"I don't know his age," I concluded. "I take it he's about nineteen. But he's got the airs and graces of Peter Pan."

"Piers," said Mrs. Waterbrook, "is twenty-five. His mother was my sister. She married his father when she was seventeen. He was twenty years older than she, but they were awfully happy. The blood's pure English, although the title's Italian. The fief of the duchy goes with it. They were given to Piers' great-grandfather—he was a diplomat—for services rendered. A recent attempt to dispossess the boy mercifully failed." She looked round about her. "By the way, I thought there were six of you. Piers gave me the number, but neither gender nor anything else."

"There's a female to come," said Berry. "But I don't think she will to-day. She's a wayward child. We'll send her round to apologise to-morrow."

Here coffee and chocolate were served.

"I must apologise," said Mrs. Waterbrook, "for giving you no tea. But there you are." She sighed. "What tea you can get in France reminds me of grocer's port. I won't touch it myself, and I haven't the face to offer it to my guests. I usually bring some from England; but I—I didn't this time." She passed a hand across her eyes, as though to brush away a memory. "After all, you needn't come again, need you?"

"But we do the same," said Daphne. "We've given up tea. Up to last week, I clung to a cup before breakfast. But now I've stopped it."

"Yes," said Berry. "It was affecting her brain. Ten minutes after she'd swallowed it, she used to begin to wonder why she married me."

"I believe you," said Mrs. Waterbrook. "You can't drink French tea and be resigned. Now, a cup of well-made chocolate affords relief."

Before Berry could reply, she had pointed to an old china box and said that it contained cigarettes.

If she had said that it was full of black pearls, she could not have created more excitement. Besides, there was a confidence in her tone that set my nerves tingling. It was, I felt sure, no "grocer's port" that she was commending. And I—we, with the exception of Berry, had not smoked a good cigarette for nearly six weeks....

As Jonah handed the box to Daphne, I strove to look unconcerned.

"And if anybody likes cigars," added Mrs. Waterbrook, "there are some in that silver box by Major Pleydell."

Berry started, said, "Oh—er—thanks very much," and opened the box. Then he took out a cigar, idly enough.

I became conscious that Daphne's and Adele's eyes were upon me as Jonah brought me the cigarettes. I took one without looking, and stared back. Instantly their eyes shifted to the cigarette in my hand. I followed their gaze, to behold one of the brand which I had smoked invariably for seven years.

Dazedly I looked across at Berry, to see him regarding his cigar with bulging eyes....

As in a dream, I heard Jonah's voice.

"You must forgive my cousins. They're not being rude. To tell you the truth, we've recently had a bereavement. A particularly cherished friend, who was to furnish us all with tobacco for several months, disappeared in sickening circumstances only two days ago. The cigar and the cigarette have revived some painful memories."

Our hostess opened and closed her mouth before replying.

Then—

"What," she said faintly, "what was your—er—cherished friend like?"

Berry started to his feet.

"Both hinges gone," he shouted, "tied up with rope—reeking of pepper——"

Mrs. Waterbrook interrupted him with a shriek.

"He's outside my bedroom," she wailed. "By the side of the tall-boy. I suppose it's too much to hope that you've got my tea."

"Tea?" we screamed.

"Tea," piped our hostess. "Beautiful China tea. Thirty-five pounds of it. Under the camisoles."

Berry raised his eyes to heaven.

"Modesty forbade us," he said, "to go further than the b-b-b-bust b-b-b-bodices."

* * * * *

It was in the midst of our rejoicing that Piers set foot on the verandah. For a moment he stood staring, pardonably bewildered, at the two smugglers, who were saluting one another respectively with a profound curtsey and the most elaborate of bows. Then he pulled open the great window and stepped hesitatingly into the room.

As he did so, the door was flung open, and a man-servant appeared.

"Mees Mansel," he announced.

Nobby entered anyhow, pleasedly lugging Jill into the room.

"Why, Jill!" cried Daphne. "My dear.... Mrs. Waterbrook, let me introduce——"

"But that's not Miss Mansel!"

It was Piers' voice.

With one accord we turned, staring....

With arm outstretched, the boy was pointing at Jill.

For a moment nobody moved.

Then Piers sprang forward and caught Jill's hands in his.

"Jill!" he panted. "Jill, you're not Miss Mansel?"

"Yes, I am," said Jill steadily.

"But I thought you were married to Boy. I thought—I thought Adele was Miss Mansel."

"Oh, Piers," said Jill reproachfully. "And she's got a wedding-ring on."

Piers stared at Jill's hand.

"I—I never thought of that," he said slowly. "I am silly." A wonderful smile came tearing to light his face. "But oh, Jill," he faltered, "I—am—so—awfully—glad!"

Never, I fancy, was love so simply declared.

For a moment Jill looked at him. Then her eyes fell, and an exquisite blush came stealing into her cheeks.

For an instant Piers hesitated. Then he let fall her fingers and turned about, flushing furiously....

Before he had found his tongue, my cousin advanced to her hostess and put out her hand.

"I'm afraid I'm awfully late," she said quietly.

Mrs. Waterbrook stooped and kissed her.

"My darling," she said softly, "it was worth waiting for."



CHAPTER VII

HOW DAPHNE LOST HER BEDFELLOW, AND THE LINE OF LEAST RESISTANCE PROVED IRRESISTIBLE.

Order, so to speak, having been restored, and the path of love made straight beyond all manner of doubt, we decided festively to make an excursion to Spain. The fact that Piers could speak Spanish suggested that all the arrangements should be left in his hands. We embraced the suggestion cordially. Then, at the eleventh hour, a courteously imperative wire from his solicitors had deprived us of our courier....

The Duke of Padua had left Pau that evening, and all six of us had gone to the station to speed him to Paris and Rome. My cousin's farewell to her future husband had been ridiculously affecting. Polonius' advice to his son was above rubies, but Jill's charge came pelting out of an eager heart.

"Oh, and Piers darling, you will take care, won't you? And do wear warm things. I'm sure it's still most awfully cold up there, and—and I don't know what men wear extra, but couldn't you put on a bodybelt?"

"Binder, dear, binder," corrected Berry.

"Well, binder, then. I remember Jonah saying——"

"Never," said her brother.

"Yes, you did. You said the great thing was to keep warm round the—er—round the hips."

Berry looked round.

"All women and children," he said, "will leave the Court."

"Piers, you will, won't you? For my sake. Oh, and don't forget you've got to get some sock-suspenders, because your left one comes down. And be very careful crossing the streets. Wait till there's a gap—always. And don't drink the water, will you? Don't even use it for your teeth. Daphne won't."

"That's right," said Berry. "Do as she does. Combine business with pleasure and clean them in a small Worthington."

"Oh, and lock your door at night. Just in case. And, Piers darling, I love you very much, and—and God bless you, dear, and I shall just wait and wait for you to come back again."

Hat in hand, Piers put her fingers to his lips.

"Good-bye, Madonna."

They kissed one another passionately.

The next moment the train was moving, and the Duke swung himself on to the step of the wagon lit.

Jill began to trot by his side....

When she could run no faster, my cousin gave up the attempt and stood waving her tiny handkerchief and then staring after the train.

As we came up, she turned to us bravely.

"I hope," she said shakily, "I hope he'll get on all right. He's such a child," she added, knitting her pretty brow. "I wish to goodness we were married. Then I could have gone with him." She stumbled, and I caught her. She looked up at me with her grey eyes swimming. "I've often seen you off, Boy, but I wasn't silly like this."

"It's a question of interest, darling. Piers is your very own pigeon."

Jill wiped her eyes thoughtfully.

"I suppose that's it," she said slowly. "My very own.... Boy, will you take me to a tailor's? I want to get a binder."

Ere we sat down to dinner that night, two stout body-belts had been dispatched to Paris by registered post.

* * * * *

"Satisfactorily," said Berry, restoring his napkin to his knees, "to consume oxtail, one should be stripped to the waist."

"That'll do," said Daphne.

"As a rule," said her husband, "it will. Of course, for a really careless feeder, still further divestment may be desirable. Afterwards he can be hosed. And now about Spain. Of course, without Piers to talk for us, we shall be mocked, misled, and generally stung to glory. But there you are. If you're landed with half a kingdom, I guess it's up to you to take possession."

"As at present arranged," said Jonah, "we start the day after to-morrow, spend one night at Pampeluna, two at San Sebastian, and get back on Saturday."

"One clear day," murmured Daphne. "I suppose that'll give us time."

"What's there to do," said Adele, "besides packing?"

"Not much," said Jonah. "The passports have been visa-ed, and that's the main thing. We must get some money at the bank—Spanish money, I mean—book rooms, run over the cars... I can't think of anything else."

"We'd better take some insecticide," said Berry. "Spain's very conservative."

"Nonsense," said Daphne.

"All right," said her husband. "Only, on the command 'Ter-rot,' don't wake me to inspect the bodyguard. Have we any castanets? And what about some sombreros? I mean, I want to do the thing properly."

"Thanks," said his wife. "But if you're going in fancy dress, I'd rather remain at Pau. I haven't forgotten our second Sunday here."

"I shall always maintain," was the reply, "that I was suitably dressed. On the previous Sunday I had carefully studied the fashions upon the Boulevard, and I flatter myself that, had I been permitted to appear in public, my attire would have found immediate favour."

"If," said I, "I remember aright, it consisted of a white bowler, a morning-coat, golf-breeches, blue silk stockings and cloth-topped boots."

"That's right," said Berry. "And an alpenstock. I ought really to have had my cuffs trimmed with skunk," he added wistfully, "but I thought of it too late."

"I tell you what," said Adele. "We must take some films."

"That's right," said Jill. "I promised Piers we'd send him some snapshots."

Jonah groaned.

"Surely," he said, "our passport photographs are bad enough."

"The camera," said Berry, "can never lie. Besides, I'm very fond of your passport portrait. I admit I hadn't previously noticed that your right ear was so much the larger of the two, but the cast in your left eye is very beautifully insisted upon. Mine, I must confess, is less successful. Had I been told that it was a study of the Honorary Treasurer of the Splodgeworth Goose Club on bail, I should have held it an excellent likeness. Daphne's is very good. She's wearing that particularly sweet expression of hers. You can almost hear her saying, 'Mine's a large port.' Apart, they're bad enough, but with both of them on the same document—well, why we weren't turned back at Boulogne I shall never know. Boy's, again, is lifelike."

"Shame," said Adele. "He looks all bloated."

"I know he does, sweetheart. But that's his own fault. What's put in the mouth comes out in the flesh. The camera can never lie. And now don't choke. It's unmaidenly. And I cannot think of you as a matron. Let's see. Oh, yes. Films. Anything else?"

"Soap," said Daphne.

"Fountain-pen," said Jill.

"Cards," said Adele.

"Tea," said Daphne.

"Beer-opener," said I.

"Plate and linen," said Berry. "That's nine. Let's go by train."

"Anybody," said Jonah, "would think that we were going into the bush. If you must have a camera—well, take one. But as for soap and tea and beer-openers and fountain-pens—oh, you make me tired."

"And me," said Berry unctuously. "A plain man of few words, all this vulgar mouth-wash about creature comforts——"

It was hardly to be expected that he would get any further....

It was when the storm of indignation was at its height that the electric light failed.

Four of us breathed the same expletive simultaneously.

Then—

"Lost," said Berry's voice. "Two cheese-straws and a blob of French mustard. Finder will be——" The crash of glass interrupted him. "Don't move, Falcon, or you'll wreck the room. Besides, it'll soon be dawn. The nights are getting shorter every day."

"Very good, sir," replied the butler.

"They'll bring some candles in a minute," said Daphne.

"What we really want," said my brother-in-law, "is a prismatic compass."

"What for?" said Jill.

"To take a bearing with. Then we should know where the port was, and I could peel you a banana. Or would you rather suck it?"

"Brute!" said Jill, shuddering. "Oh, why is the dark so horrid?"

"The situation," said I, "calls for philosophy."

"True," said Berry. "Now, similarly placed, what would Epicurus have done?"

"I think," said Adele, "he'd have continued his discourse, as if nothing had happened."

"Good girl," said Jonah. "Any more queries about Pampeluna?"

"Yes," said my sister. "How exactly do we go?"

"We go," said I, "to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port. There we get a permit to take the cars into Spain. Then we go over the mountains by Roncevaux. It's a wonderful drive, they say, but the very deuce of a climb. Pampeluna's about fifty kilometres from the top of the pass. If we get off well, we ought to be there in time for tea."

"Easily," said Jonah. "It's only a hundred and twenty miles."

I shrugged my shoulders and resumed a surreptitious search for the chocolates.

"I expect we shall strike some snow," I said.

"Snow?" cried Jill.

"Rather," said Berry. "And avalanches. The cars will be roped together. Then, if one falls, it'll take the other with it. Will somebody pass me the grape-tongs? I've found a walnut."

"Why on earth," said Daphne, "don't they bring some candles? Falcon!"

"Yes, madam?"

"Try to find the door, and go and see what they're doing."

"Very good, madam."

With infinite care the butler emerged from the room. As the door closed—

"And now," said Adele, "I can't bear it any longer. Where are the chocolates?"

"My dear," said my sister, "I've been feeling for the wretched things ever since the light went out. Hasn't anybody got a match?"

Nobody had a match.

At length——

"They can't have been put on the table," said Jill. "I've——"

"Here they are," said Berry.

"Where?"

"Here. Give me your pretty white hand."

"This isn't them," said Jill. "They're in—— Oh, you brute! You've done it on purpose."

"I'm awfully sorry," said Berry. "I quite thought——"

"You liar!" said Jill heatedly. "You did it on purpose. You know you did. Daphne, he's gone and put my hand in the ginger."

"It'll wear off, dear," said Berry. "It'll wear off. By the time Piers is back, you'll hardly know...."

The apologetic entry of Falcon with two inches of candle upon a plate cut short the prophecy.

As he solemnly set the brand in the centre of the table, the light returned with a flash....

It was when the butler had placed the wine before Berry and was about to withdraw, that Daphne asked for the chocolates.

Falcon peered at the table.

"They were there, madam," he said.

Berry looked round uneasily.

"I think, perhaps," he began stooping to feel under his chair, "I think—I mean, fearing lest in the confusion...."

He broke off, to stare at a small silver bowl which was as bare as his hand.

Daphne took a deep breath.

"And that was full," she said witheringly. "And you sat there and let us feel all over the table, and pretended you were looking, and put Jill's hand in the ginger, and all the time——"

"I never ate one," said Berry. "I never...." He stopped short and looked round the room. "Nobby!"

The Sealyham emerged from beneath the table, wide-eyed, expectant.

Sternly my brother-in-law held out the bowl.

Never was guilt more plainly betrayed.

The pricked ears fell flat: the bright brown eyes sank to the floor: the pert white tail was lowered incontinently. Nobby had hauled down his flag.

"Oh, Nobby!"

The terrier squirmed, laid his head upon the ground, and then rolled over upon his back....

"You can't blame the dog," said I. "Besides, he'll pay for it. Quarter of a pound of chocolates'll fairly——"

"I've just remembered," said Daphne, "that they weren't chocolates at all. They were marrons glaces—the last of the bunch. They won't make any more this year."

Berry wiped his forehead,

"Are you saying this," he demanded, "to torment me? Or is it true?"

"It's a C.B. fact."

"But what about tea?" screamed her husband. "Tea without a marron glace will be like—like Hell without the Prince of Darkness."

"I can't help it. France has a close season for them."

Berry hid his face in his hands.

"Under my chair!" he wailed. "The last of the bunch (sic). And I never ate one!"

"Come, come," said I. "Similarly placed, what would Epicurus have done?"

"I know," said Adele.

"What?" said Berry.

My wife smiled.

"He'd 've made tracks for Spain," she said.

* * * * *

The French sergeant saluted, Daphne nodded, Berry said, "Down with everything," I touched my hat, and we rolled slowly over the little bridge out of one country into another.

Our reception was very serious.

So far as our papers were concerned, the Spanish N.C.O. knew his job and did it with a soldierly, if somewhat trying, precision. Pong was diligently compared with the tale of his triptyque. Our faces were respectively compared with the unflattering vignettes pasted upon our passports. The visas were deliberately inspected. Our certificates were unfolded and scrutinised. Our travelling pass was digested. To our great relief, however, he let the luggage go. We had no contraband, but we were two hours late, and to displace and replace securely a trunk and a dressing-case upon the back of a coupe takes several minutes and necessitates considerable exertion of a very unpleasant kind. Finally, having purchased a local permit for five pesetas, we were suffered to proceed.

We were now at the mouth of a gorge and the pass was before us. Had the gorge been a rift in the range, a road had been cut by the side of the torrent, and our way, if tortuous, had been as flat as your hand. But the gorge was a cul de sac—a beautiful blind alley, with mountains' flanks for walls. So the road had been made to scale one side of the alley—to make its winding way as best it could, turning and twisting and doubling upon itself, up to a windy saddle which we could hardly see.

I gave the car its head, and we went at a wicked hill as a bull at a gate.

Almost immediately the scenery became superb.

With every yard the walls of the gorge were drawing further apart, slowly revealing themselves in all their glory. Forests and waterfalls, precipices and greenswards, grey lichened crags and sun-bathed terraces, up, above all, an exquisite vesture of snow, flawless and dazzling—these stood for beauty. All the wonder of height, the towering proportions of the place, the bewildering pitch of the sky—these stood for grandeur. An infinite serenity, an imperturbable peace, a silence which the faint gush of springs served to enrich—these stood for majesty. Nature has throne-rooms about the world, and this was one of them.

I started the engine again—for we had instinctively stopped—and Pong thrust on.

Up, up, up we toiled, through the hanging village of Valcarlos, past a long string of jingling mules, under stupendous porches of the living rock, round hair-pin bends, by woods and coppices, over grey bridges—wet and shining and all stuck with ferns—now looking forward to the snow-bound ridge, now facing back to find the frontier village shrunk to a white huddle of dots, the torrent to a winking thread of silver, and our late road to a slender straggling ribbon, absurdly foreign, ridiculously remote.

On we stormed, higher and higher, past boulders and poor trees wrung with the wind, and presently up and into and over the snow, while slowly, foot by foot, depth dragged height down to nothing.

For the third time it occurred to me that the engine was unwarrantably hot, and, after a moment's consideration, I took out the clutch and brought the car to a standstill.

"What is it?" said Daphne.

"She's hot," said I. "Hotter than she should be. At least, I think so. Of course it's a deuce of a pull." And, with that, I opened the door.

"You're not going to get out in this snow?"

"Only a second, dear."

Upon observing that the fan-belt was broken, it was natural that I should regret very much that I had not looked for the trouble when first I suspected its presence. Had I done so, I should have spared the engine, I should have been able to correct the disorder without burning myself to hell, and I should not have been standing, while I worked, in four inches of snow.

Gloomily I made my report.

"I'm sorry," I concluded, "but I shall have to have Berry. I've got a new strap in the boot, but I can't shift the luggage alone."

Berry closed his eyes and sank his chin upon his breast.

"Go on, old chap," said Daphne. "I'm very sorry for you, but——"

"I—I don't feel well," said Berry. "Besides, I haven't got my gum-boots."

"Will you get out?" said his wife.

At last, between us, we got him as far as the running board.

"Come on," I said impatiently.

"Don't rush me," said Berry, staring at the snow as if it were molten lead. "Don't rush me. How fresh and beautiful it looks, does not it?" He took a deep breath and let himself down upon his toes. "A-A-ah! If you can do sixty kilometres with a pound of snow in each shoe, how many miles is that to the gallon?"

The belt was at the very back of beyond, but I found it at last. As we replaced the luggage—

"And while," I said, "I'm fixing the strap, you might fill up the radiator."

"What with?" said Berry.

"Snow, of course. Just pick it up and shove it in."

"'Just pick it up and sho——' Oh, give me strength," said Berry brokenly. Then he raised his voice. "Daphne!"

"What's the matter?"

"I've got to pick up some snow now."

"Well, rub your hands with it, dear—well. Then they won't get frost-bitten."

"You—er—you don't mind my picking it up, then? I mean, my left foot is already gangrenous."

"Well, rub that, too," called Daphne.

"Thanks," said Berry grimly. "I think I'd rather wait for the dogs. I expect there are some at Roncevaux. In the pictures they used to have a barrel of whisky round their necks. The great thing was to be found by about five dogs. Then you got five barrels. By the time the monks arrived, you were quite sorry to see them."

"Will you go and fill up the radiator?" said I, unlocking the tool-box....

The fitting of the new belt was a blasphemous business. My fingers were cold and clumsy, and everything I touched was red-hot. However, at last it was done.

As I was looking over the engine—

"We'd better pull up a bit," said Berry. "I've used all the snow round here. Just a few feet, you know. That drift over there'll last me a long time."

"What d'you mean?" said I. "Isn't it full yet?"

"Well, I thought it was just now, but it seems to go down. I've put in about a hundredweight to date."

An investigation of the phenomenon revealed the unpleasant truth that the radiator was leaking.

I explained this to Berry.

"I see," he said gravely. "I understand. In other words, for the last twenty minutes I have been at some pains to be introducing water into an inconveniently shaped sieve?"

"That," said I, "is the idea."

"And, for all the good I've been doing, I might have been trying to eat a lamb cutlet through a couple of straws?"

"Oh, no. You've cooled her down. In fact..."

It took five minutes and all the cajolery at my command to induce my brother-in-law to continue his Danaidean task, until I had started the engine and we were ready to move.

Then he whipped its cap on to the radiator and clambered into the car.

I was extremely uneasy, and said as much.

It was now a quarter to five. Pampeluna was some thirty miles away, and Heaven only knew what sort of country lay before us. We were nearly at the top of the pass, and, presumably, once we were over we should strike a lot of "down hill." But if the leak became worse, and there was much more collarwork....

Desperately I put Pong along.

The snow was deeper now and was affecting the steering. The wheels, too, were slipping constantly. I had to go very gingerly. Two deep furrows ahead told of Ping's passage. I began to wonder how Adele, Jill, and Jonah were getting on....

It was when the snow was perhaps a foot deep that we snarled past a ruined cabin and, stumbling over the very top of the world, began to descend.

Ten minutes later we came to Roncevaux. Where Abbey began or village ended, it was impossible to say, and there was no one to be seen. The place looked like a toy some baby giant had carried into the mountains, played with awhile, and then forgotten.

Here was the last of the snow, so I crammed some more into the radiator, tried very hard to think I could see the water, and hoped for the best. While I was doing this, Berry had closed the car—a wise measure, for, though we should lose a lot of scenery, the sun was sinking and Evening was laying her fingers upon the fine fresh air.

Navarre seemed very handsome. It was, indeed, all mountains—bleaker, less intimate than France, but very, very grand. And the road was splendidly laid: its long clean sweeps, its graceful curves, the way in which its line befitted the bold landscape, yet was presenting a style of its own, argued a certain poetry in the hearts of its engineers.

We swept through a village that might have been plucked out of Macedonia, so rude and stricken it looked. There was no glass in the windows: filth littered the naked street: pigs and poultry rushed for the crazy doorways at our approach.

Pampeluna being the nearest town, I realised with a shock what sort of a night we should spend if we failed to get there.

I began to hope very hard that there were no more hills. Presently the road forked and we switched to the right. Maps and Guide declared that this was the better way.

"What's carretera accidentada mean?" said my sister, looking up from the Michelin Guide.

"I think carretera means 'road,'" said I. "As for accidentada—well, it's got an ugly sound."

"Well, do look out," said Daphne. "We shall be there any minute. This must be Espinal, and that's where it begins."

Berry cleared his throat.

"The art of life," he announced, "is to be prepared. Should the car overturn and it become necessary to ply me with cordial, just part my lips and continue to pour until I say 'When.' Should—— What are you stopping for?"

"Very slightly to our rear," said I, "upon the right-hand side of the road stands a water-trough. You may have noticed it."

"I did," said Berry. "A particularly beautiful specimen of the palaeolithic epoch. Shall we go on now?"

"Supposing," said I relentlessly, "you plied the radiator. Just take the cap off and continue to pour till I say 'When.'"

"I should be charmed," was the reply. "Unfortunately I have no vessel wherewith to——"

"Here you are," said Daphne, thrusting a hotwater bottle into his hand. "What a mercy I forgot to pack it!"

As I lighted a cigarette—

"It is indeed," said I, "a godsend."

With an awful look, Berry received the godsend and emerged from the car.

After perhaps two minutes he reappeared.

"No good," he said shortly. "The water's too hard or something. The brute won't look at it."

"Nonsense," said Daphne.

"All right," said her husband. "You go and tempt it. I'm through, I am."

"Squeeze the air out of it and hold it under the spout."

"But I tell you——"

I took out my watch.

"In another half-hour," I said, "it'll be dark, and we've still forty kilometres——"

Heavily Berry disappeared.

When I next saw him he was filling the radiator from his hat....

After six journeys he screwed on the cap and made a rush for the car.

"But where's my bottle?" screamed Daphne.

"I rejoice to say," replied Berry, slamming the door, "that full fathom five the beggar lies."

"You've never dropped——"

"If it's any consolation," said Berry, as I let in the clutch, "he perished in fair fight. The swine put about a bucket up each of my sleeves first, and then spat all over my head. Yes, it is funny, isn't it? Never mind. Game to the last, he went down regurgitating like a couple of bath-rooms. And now I really am flea-bitten. I can't feel anything except my trunk."