It was as well that we had taken in water, for very soon, to my dismay, we began to climb steadily...

Once again we watered—Heaven knows how high up—at a hovel, half barn, half cottage, where a sturdy mother came lugging a great caldron before we had named our need. In all conscience, this was obvious enough. The smell of fiery metal was frightening me to death.

Mercifully, that terrible ascent was the last.

As the day was dying, we dropped down a long, long hill, round two or three death-trap bends, and so, by gentle stages, on to a windy plain....

It was half-past six when we ran into Pampeluna.

After paying an entrance fee, we proceeded to the Grand Hotel. It was intensely cold, and a wind cut like a knife. The streets were crowded, and we moved slowly, with the result that the eight urchins who decided to mount the running-boards did so without difficulty. The four upon my side watched Berry evict their fellows with all the gratification of the immune.

"Little brutes," said Daphne. "Round to the left, Boy. That's right. Straight on. Look at that one. He's holding on by the lamp. Boy, can't you—— Now to the right.... Here we are."

"Where?" said I, slowing up.

"Here. On the right. That must be it, with the big doors."

As I climbed out of the car, seven more boys alighted from the dickey, the wings, the luggage, and the spare wheels.

A second later I found myself in a bank.

The edifice appeared to be deserted, but after a moment or two an individual came shuffling out of the shadows. My inability to speak a word of Spanish and his inability to speak a word of anything else disfavoured an intelligent conversation, but at last I elicited first that the Grand Hotel was next door, and secondly that it would not be open until July.

I imparted this pleasing information to the others.

"Closed?" said Berry. "Well, that is nice. Yes. He's quite right. Here it is in the Guide. 'Open from July to October.' I suppose a superman might have put it more plainly, but it's a pretty broad hint. And now what shall we do? Three months is rather long to wait, especially as we haven't had any tea. Shall we force an entry? Or go on to Madrid?"

"Fool," said Daphne. "Get in, Boy. I'm getting hungry."

I got in and started the engine.

Then I got out again with a stick.

This the seven boys, who had remounted, were not expecting.

I got in again, feeling better....

The second hotel we visited was admirably concealed.

As we were passing it for the second time, Jonah came stepping across the pavement.

"Lucky for you we got in early," he said. "We've got the last two rooms. They're on the fourth floor, they're miles apart, they're each about the size of a minute, and I don't think the beds are aired. The lift's out of order, there's no steam heat, and there are no fire-places. Both the bath-rooms have been let as bedrooms, and the garage is conveniently situated about a mile and a half away. The porter's cut his hand, so you'll have to carry up your luggage and help me with ours. Nobody speaks anything but Spanish, but that doesn't matter as much as it might, because the waiters have struck. And now look sharp, or we shan't get any dinner."

* * * * *

Bearer will bring you to where we are. Don't talk. Don't do anything. Just get into the car.

JONAH.

I stared at the words stupidly.

Then I looked at the chauffeur standing, hat in hand, and stepped into the depths of a luxurious limousine.

A moment later we were whipping over the cobbles.

It was nearly half-past seven, and I had just walked back from the garage where I had deposited Pong. Whether my instructions that the radiator was to be mended and the car to be washed had been understood and would be executed, I was almost too tired to care. I was also abominably cold. The prospect of an evening and night attended with every circumstance of discomfort was most depressing. For the fiftieth time I was wishing that we had never come.

And then at the door of the hotel I had been handed the message....

There was a foot-warmer in the limousine and a voluminous fur-rug. I settled myself contentedly. What it all meant, I had not the faintest idea. Enough that I was comfortable and was beginning to grow warm. My faith, moreover, in Jonah was profound.

The car drew up with a rush before a mansion.

As I stepped out, the chauffeur removed his hat, and the front door was opened.

I passed up the steps into the grateful shelter of a tremendous hall.

At once my coat and hat were taken from me and I was reverently invited to ascend the huge staircase. I did so in silence. At the top of the flight a waiting-woman received me and led the way.

Everywhere luxury was in evidence. There were plenty of lights, but they were all heavily shaded. So thick were the carpets that I could hardly hear my own footfalls. The atmosphere was pleasantly warm and full of the sweet scent of burning wood. What furniture I saw was very handsome. Three exquisite stalls, filched from some old cathedral, stood for a settle. A magnificent bronze loomed in a recess. At the head of the stairs was glowing a great Canaletto.

I followed my guide wonderingly....

A moment later she stopped to knock upon a door.

"Who is it?" cried Adele.

I raised my voice, and she called to me to enter.

I opened the door into the finest bedroom that I have ever seen.

Upon the walls were panels of yellow silk, and all the silks and stuffs were grey or golden. A soft grey carpet, a deep sofa, a giant four-poster, a mighty press, a pier-glass, chairs, mirrors, table-lamps—all were in beautiful taste. An open door in one corner, admitting the flash of tiles, promised a bath-room. On the bed my dress-clothes, which I had packed for San Sebastian, lay orderly. And there, upon a chair, in front of a blazing fire, sat Adele, lightly clothed, looking extraordinarily girlish, and cheerfully inveigling a stocking on to a small white foot.

I looked round dazedly.

"Isn't it priceless?" said Adele. "Isn't it all priceless?" She danced across the room and flung her arms round my neck. "And I thought you were never coming. I wanted to wait for you, lad, but they wouldn't let me. But I've run a bath for you and put out all your clothes. By the way, I can't find your links anywhere. Are you sure——"

"No," I said, "I'm not. I'm not sure of anything. I'm not sure I'm awake. I'm not sure I'm alive. I'm not sure I'm not mad. 'Sure'? I don't know the meaning of the word. What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Where are we? What's it all mean?"

"My darling," said Adele, "I've not the faintest idea."

"But——"

"Listen. You hadn't been gone five minutes before a man came into the hotel and up to Jonah. He seemed very nervous and excited, but he was very polite. He couldn't speak a word of anything but Spanish, but at last we gathered that he was asking us if we were the people who had wired to the Grand Hotel. When we said that we were, he talked faster than ever, and at last we began to understand that he'd got some rooms for us elsewhere. You can imagine our joy. Once we understood, he didn't have to ask us whether we'd come. The next minute two chauffeurs were slinging the baggage on to a couple of cars, and, after we'd managed to explain that you were coming back, Berry paid some sort of a bill and we all pushed off. When we saw this wonderful house, we nearly fainted. As far as I can see, we've got it all to ourselves. Berry and Daphne are in another room like this, about two doors away, and Jill's between us. I don't know where Jonah is. I can only imagine that the man who came is the manager of the Grand Hotel, and that this is where they put people when their own place is closed."

Unsatisfactory as it was, this seemed, roughly, the only possible explanation. Indeed, but for the magnificence of our lodging, it would have been reasonable enough. Still, we knew nothing of Spain. Perhaps this was their idea of hospitality. I began to like Pampeluna very much....

By the time I had had a hot bath I had begun to wonder whether it was worth while going on to San Sebastian.

* * * * *

We had dined in state. We had eaten an eight-course dinner, superbly cooked and admirably served. At the conclusion of our meal, folding doors had been opened, and we had passed into the shadowed comfort of a gorgeous library, where only the ceaseless flicker of a great log fire had lighted us to deep-cushioned chairs and a rich sofa, where coffee and liqueurs were set upon a low table and the broad flash of silver showed a massive cigar-box reposing conveniently upon an ebony stool.

With one consent, sitting at the feet of Epicurus, we had thrust uncertainty aside, and, thanking Heaven that we had fallen so magically upon our own, confined our conversation to the events of our journey, and compared enthusiastic notes regarding the wonders, entertainments, and perils of our drive.

From behind a big cigar Berry was slowly enumerating the accessories without which, to make life worth living, no car should ever take the road, when the door opened and a servant, bearing a salver, entered the room.

Stopping for an instant to switch on the light, the man stepped to my brother-in-law.

For a moment Berry glanced at the card. Then—

"English," he said. "'Mr. Hubert Weston Hallilay, 44 Calle de Serrano, Madrid.' Better have him in, hadn't we?" He turned to the servant and nodded. "Ask him to come in," he said.

The servant bowed and withdrew.

A moment later a fair-haired boy, perhaps twenty-three years old, was ushered into the room.

He greeted us respectfully, but with an open-hearted delight which he made no attempt to conceal.

"How d'you do? I'm most awfully glad to see you. Officially, I'm here by request. The comic mayor got hold of me. He's worried to death because he can't converse with you. I don't suppose you mind, but it's shortening his life. I've had a fearful time with him. There are about a thousand things he wants to know, and he's commissioned me to find them out without asking any questions. That, he says, would be most rude. Unofficially, I'm—well, I'm at your service. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have been here before. I'm attached to Madrid, really, but I'm putting in six weeks here—for my sins."

"You're very kind," said Berry. "Incidentally, you're a godsend—the second we've had to-day. The first, I may say, lies in five feet of water on a particularly blasted mountain-side. But don't be disconcerted. We shouldn't think of drowning you. For one thing, you're much too valuable. And now sit down, and have some cold coffee and a glass of kummel."

As he sank into a seat—

"Mr. Hallilay," said Daphne, twittering, "I can't bear it. Why are we here?"

The boy looked at her curiously. Then—

"Well," he said, "there was no other place. Even if the Grand had been open, I gather it's hardly fit.... Of course there's been the most awful mix-up. Trust Spain for that. The Post Office knew they couldn't deliver the wire. Instead of telling somebody, or communicating with Pau, they let it lie in the office till this afternoon. Then they took it to the mayor. Of course he nearly died. But, being a man of action, he got a move on. He flew round here and laid the facts before the steward—the owner happens to be away—and arranged to put this house at your disposal. Then he rushed round, borrowed a couple of cars, and spent what time he had left splitting his brain over your wire and hovering between the station and the various approaches to Pampeluna. As an inevitable result, he missed you, and when he finally had the brain-wave of inquiring at the Grand and found you'd already arrived, he nearly shot himself."

"But why—I mean," I stammered, "it's devilish good of the mayor and you and everyone, but why—in the first place, why did the Post Office take the wire to the mayor?"

Hallilay raised his eyebrows.

"Well," he said slowly, "when they saw the telegram, they realised——"

"Who sent the wire?" said Berry.

"I did," said Jonah. "I said,

Retenez lundi soir, deux grandes deux petites chambres avec salle de bain en suite, arrive en auto.

MANSEL."

For a moment I thought the boy was going to faint. Then he covered his face and began to shake with laughter....

Presently he plucked a form from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to me.

"That may have been what you sent," he said jerkily, "but here's how the wire arrived."

Retenez lundi soir, deux grandes deux petites chambres avec salle de bain, suite arrive en auto.

MANOEL.

After I had read it aloud there was a long, long silence.

At length—

"I see," said Berry. "I knew our journey would be eventful, because my wife put her teeth in upside down this morning, but I little dreamed it was to be a royal progress. However, I take it one of the things the mayor would like to know is—er—what has become of—of——"

Hallilay nodded tearfully.

"That, sir," he said, "is the first and foremost question upon an unanswerable list."

* * * * *

We left Pampeluna upon the following afternoon, in response to a wire from San Sebastian peremptorily desiring us immediately to repair to that resort.

Hallilay, as good as his word, was of inestimable service. He had, indeed, dealt with the delicate situation with admirable judgment. Finally he covered our retreat in a masterly manner.

From the first he had insisted that the role we had unconsciously assumed must be deliberately maintained. Our scruples he had brushed to one side.

"Whatever happens, Pampeluna must never know the truth. It'd be most unpleasant for you—obviously. For the mayor—well, Spaniards are very proud, and I think it'd kill him. Very well, then. Your course, plainly, is the line of least resistance. O friends, Romans, countrymen, it's—it's too easy." He broke off and glanced meaningly about him. "I'm not much of a diplomat, but—well, the best is good enough for me."

Talk about Epicurus....



CHAPTER VIII

HOW ADELE BOUGHT A BOTTLE OF PERFUME WHICH HAD NO SMELL, AND I CUT EULALIE DEAD

"I must have a paper," said Berry. "I haven't read the news for fifty-five hours, and—and anything may have happened. Supposing the rouble and the shilling have changed over. The tie I'm wearing 'ld be worth about six hundred pounds."

I set down my cup and picked up the receiver.

"So you're really off to-morrow, are you?" said an attractive voice. Well, don't miss Fuenterrabia. It's only five miles out of your way, and it's worth seeing. They sell most lovely scent in the Calle del Puerto. Ask for their 'Red Violets.'

With a chunk I was disconnected, and a second later a bureau clerk had promised to procure an English paper and send it up to my room.

Less than an hour ago we had arrived at San Sebastian—according to plan. A very handsome run had ended becomingly enough in the drive of a palatial hotel, and, though it was growing dusk as we had slipped into the town, we had seen quite enough of our surroundings to appreciate that, where Nature had succeeded so admirably, man had by no means failed.

And now we were taking tea in my sister's bedroom and discussing what Berry called "the order of going in."

"We'd better decide right away," said my brother-in-law, "to stay here a week. It's perfectly obvious that two nights are going to be no earthly."

"All you're thinking of," said Daphne, "is the Casino. I knew it would be like this."

"All right," replied her husband; "look at the guide-book. We haven't seen this place yet, and there are twelve excursions—all highly recommended. We can cut out Tolosa, because I see we did that this afternoon. That was where the child lobbed the jam-tin into the car. I fancy I passed the cathedral when I was chasing him. Any way, I shall say so."

"I am told," said I, "that Fuenterrabia's worth seeing."

"It's the show place about here," said Jonah. "Old as the hills. That'll take a morning alone."

I yawned.

"There's a shop there," I said, "in the Calle del Puerto, where they sell some wonderful scent. I believe it's all good, but their 'Red Violets' is simply ravishing."

The girls pricked up their ears.

"Who told you all this?" said Adele.

"I can't imagine," said I truthfully. "But she had a nice voice. You know—one of those soft mellifluous ones, suggesting that she's bored to distraction with everything except you." I took out a cigarette and looked about me. "Anyone got a match?" I added.

"Blow the matches," said my sister. "When did all this happen?"

"This afternoon," said I. "I'd always heard that San Sebastian——"

"Is she staying here?" said Adele.

"In the hotel? She didn't say."

"But how did you come to speak to her?" demanded my wife.

"I didn't," I said. "She spoke to me. I tell you I've always heard that San——"

"And you communed with her?" said Berry. "With your lawful wife working herself to death on the first floor unpacking your sponge-bag, you exchanged secrets of the toilet with a honey-toned vamp? Oh, you vicious libertine.... Will she be at the Casino to-night?"

"I didn't ask her."

Berry raised his eyes to heaven.

"You don't know her name; you never asked where she's staying, and you've fixed nothing up." He sighed heavily. "Some people don't deserve to get on."

"I hadn't time," I pleaded. "We got on to scent almost at once."

"Why scent?" said Jonah. "Or is that an indiscreet question?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Berry. "The scent was on the handkerchief he picked up. It's been done before."

"I don't understand," said Jill.

"I'm glad you don't, darling. One expert in the family is bad enough." He nodded at me. "I used to think I was useful, till I'd seen that Mormon at work. Talk about getting off.... Why, he'd click at a jumble sale."

"Would he really?" said Adele interestedly. "I'd no idea he was so enterprising."

Berry shrugged his shoulders.

"My dear," he said, "he's a blinkin' marvel. Where you and I 'ld be standing outside a stage-door with a nervous grin and a bag of jujubes, he'd walk straight up TO a Marchioness, say, 'I feel I must tell you that you've got a mouth in a million,' and—get away with it. But there you are. In the present case——"

"—for once in a way," said Adele, "the lady seems to have made the running." She turned to me with a smile. "Well, Juan me lad, tell us some more about her. Was she fair or dark?"

I nodded at Berry.

"Better ask him," I said. "He knows more about it than I do."

"She was dark," said Berry unhesitatingly. "A tall willowy wench, with Continental eyes and an everlasting pout. Am I right, sir?"

"You may be," said I. "Not having seen the damsel...."

There was an outburst of incredulous objection.

"Sorry," I added, "but the liaison was conducted upon the telephone. Just now. When I ordered the paper. The lady had no idea she was giving me counsel. So, you see, we're both blameless. And now may I have a match?"

"Well, I am disappointed," announced Adele. "I quite thought we were off."

"So did I," said Daphne. "And you never even—— Oh, it's spoiled my tea."

Even Jill protested that I had "led them on."

In some dudgeon, I began to wonder if I should ever understand women.

* * * * *

An hour and a half had slipped by.

Ready for dinner with twenty minutes to spare, I had descended to the lounge. There a large writing-table had suggested the propriety of sending a postcard to the sweetest of aunts, who, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, invariably presumed our death after fourteen days.

There being no postcards available, I started a letter....

For a page and a half my pen ran easily enough, and then, for no reason whatever, my epistolary sense faltered, laboured, and ceased to function.

I re-read what I had written, touched up the punctuation, and fingered my chin. I reviewed the past, I contemplated the future, I regarded my finger-nails—all to no effect. There was simply nothing to say. Finally I rose and went in search of a waiter. There was, I felt, a chance that a Martini might stimulate my brain....

I returned to my seat to find that, while I had been gone, a heifer from another herd had come to drink at the pool.

Immediately upon the opposite side of the writing-table sat one of the prettiest women that I have ever seen. Her colouring was superb. Beneath a snow-white skin all the wild beauty of a mountain-rose glowed in her cheeks; each time she moved, a flashing mystery of red and golden lights blazed from the auburn crown piled on her head; stars danced an invitation in the great grey eyes. Her small straight nose, the exquisite line of her face, her fairy mouth alone would have redeemed the meanest countenance. A plain black velvet dress, cut rather high at the throat, but leaving her lovely arms bare from the shoulder, and a complete absence of jewellery, showed that my lady knew how pictures should be framed....

With an effort I bent to my letter. From being difficult, however, the composition of another two pages of coherent prose had become formidable. Turning to the past, I could remember nothing. Looking into the future, I found myself blind. As for the present, I felt instinctively that a description of the curve of my vis-a-vis' mouth would be out of place and might be misunderstood.

I observed suddenly that my lady had stopped writing.

After a moment she read over what she had written and put in two commas. Then she put a dash at the end of her last sentence. Such an addition had not occurred to me. For what it was worth, I adopted it surreptitiously. When I looked up, the tips of four pointed fingers were being regarded with some severity. Finally the girl laid down her pen, and, propping her chin on two ridiculous fists, stared dismally upon the neutral zone between our respective blotting pads.

"Have you dealt with the weather?" said I.

The stars, which had stopped dancing, leaped again into life.

"Fully," she said.

"And the place?"

She nodded.

"And the people staying in the hotel?"

"I've just said they're all very dull."

I wrote rapidly. Then—

"'The people here,'" I read, "'are nearly all very dull.'"

For a moment she looked at me. Then she picked up her pen.

"How," she demanded, with a dazzling smile, "do you spell 'nearly'?"

"Only one 'r'," I replied. "Same as 'adorable.'"

'Nearly' went down—rather shakily.

I pulled up my cuffs.

"'Spanish furniture,'" I said, following my pen, "'is like the Spanish—on the large side. Everything is too big.'"

"'—too big,'" said my lady, with her head on one side. "You see, my confidence in you is supreme."

"One moment," said I. "There's only one 'w' in 'sweet,' isn't there?"

"Yes," she said, bubbling. "Same as 'awful.'"

I cleared my throat.

"'The table, for instance,'" I continued, "'at which we—I am writing, is simply huge. If it were only half as wide, it would be much more—er—convenient.'"

The two white shoulders began to shake with laughter.

I thought very swiftly. Then—

"New paragraph," I said.

"Half a page more," breathed my companion.

I frowned.

"'They have,'" I announced, "'quite a good Casino here.'"

Our two pens recorded the statement.

"'The great thing to do is to go there after dinner.'"

The custom was reported in duplicate.

"'But I'm not going to-night,'" said the girl, "'because——'"

"But——"

"'—I've got to do my packing.'"

I groaned. Then—

"'But I shan't go to-night,'" I declared, "'because I'm going to help a friend pack.'" I looked up cheerfully. "Yes?"

"'I shall look forward," she said, smiling, "'to seeing you again—some time.'"

"'Soon.'"

The pretty head went to one side.

"'With my love,'" she said quietly.

"'Your devoted servant,'" said I.

For a second my lady hesitated. Then she signed a name, crammed her letter into an envelope, and rose to her feet.

The stars in the wonderful eyes had become misty, and there was a strange wistful curve to the exquisite lips.

For an instant we looked at one another. Then—

"Just 'Eulalie,'" she said.

The next moment she was gone.

I turned to see Daphne, Adele, and Berry a dozen paces away....

I advanced with what composure I could summon.

"I have been endeavouring," I said, "to atone for this afternoon."

There was a frosty silence. Then—

"So I see," said my sister icily.

Berry passed a hand across his eyes.

"Ugh!" he said shuddering. "I've gone all goosegogs—I mean, gooseflesh. Will she be at the Casino to-night?"

My wife set a hand upon my arm.

"I must admit," she said, smiling, "that she had a mouth in a million."

* * * * *

By half-past ten the next morning we were again upon the road.

The almanack swore it was March, but here was a summer's day. Not a cloud was floating in the great blue sky: down to the tenderest breeze, the winds were sleeping: the sun was in all his glory. For earth herself, the stains of winter were being done away. Out of the country's coat the greys and browns, lately so prominent, were fading notably. As thick as fast, the green was coming in. As we rounded a bend and sailed down a long sweet hill towards the frontier, the road was all dappled with the shadows of youngster leaves.

Our way seemed popular. Car after car swept by, waggons and lorries went rumbling about their business, now and again two of the Guardia Civil—well-horsed, conspicuously armed and point-device in their accoutrements—sat stiff, silent, and vigilant in the mouth of an odd by-road.

Come to the skirts of Irun, we switched to the left, and five minutes later we were at Fuenterrabia.

A city with a main street some four yards wide, keeping a king's palace, if hatchments be evidence, remembering more dukes than shopkeepers, its house-walls upholding a haphazard host of balconies and overhung with monstrous eaves—a pocket stronghold, set on the lip of Spain, staring at sea and land, each sunlit rood of which is fat with History—a lovely star upon the breast of Fame, chosen by English poets to enrich their songs, Fuenterrabia is among the crown jewels of Europe.

We thrust up the Calle Mayor and into the Plaza de Armas. There we put the cars in the shade and alighted eagerly to view the town at close quarters.

"Look at that little boy," cried Jill, "eating an apple. Where's the camera? Get him to stand in the sun, Boy, against that old wall."

"That's right," said Berry. "And there's a dog scratching himself. Ask him to devil his tenants beside the Post Office. If we get a good picture, we can call it Local Affection, or The Old, Old Story and send it to The Field."

To humour my cousin's whim, I approached a dirty-looking child....

Despite my assurances of good-will, however, the urchin retired as I advanced, all the time consuming his apple with a nervous energy, which suggested at once a conviction that I had my eye upon his fruit and a determination to confound my strategy. The apple was dwindling fast, and, redoubling my protests, I quickened my pace. For a second the boy hesitated. Then he took two last devastating bites, flung the core in my face, and took to his heels.

Pursuit being out of the question, I returned furiously to the others, to find them, as was to be expected, quite weak with laughter.

"It w-was good of you, Boy," declared Jill, tearfully. "And I got such a precious picture—just as he threw it."

"I suppose you know," I said stiffly, "that he hit me upon the nose."

"There must," said Berry, "have been some misunderstanding. The Spaniard's courtesy is proverbial. You're sure you weren't rude to him, brother?"

"Certain," said I grimly.

"Dear, dear," said my brother-in-law, opening a guide-book. "It's most mysterious. Just listen to this. The stranger is at first apt to be carried away by the obliging tone of society, by the charming spontaneity of manner, and by the somewhat exaggerated politeness of the people he meets. There now. Were you carried away at all? I mean, if you were——"

"I was not," said I.

Berry returned to the book.

"He should return these civilities in kind, but he should avoid turning the conversation on serious matters, and should, above all, refrain from expressing an opinion on religious or political questions. I do hope you didn't...."

I shook my head.

"Then," said Berry, "should we meet the child again, I shall cut him dead. And that's that. And now let's go and find a dairy. You'll be wanting a pick-me-up."

For an hour and a half we went about the city. We marked her bulwarks, we told her towers, we observed her mansions, we strolled upon her terraces, we enjoyed her prospects.

Last of all, we visited the Calle del Puerto. Before we had taken a dozen paces along the aged alley, a faint odour of perfume began to assert itself, and a few seconds later we were standing before a tiny shop, scrupulously sweet and clean to look upon, absurdly suggestive of the patronage of marionettes. A curtain of apple-green canvas was swaying in the low doorway, while an awning of the same stuff guarded a peepshow window, which was barely three feet long and less than one foot high. Herein, ranged behind a slab of fine plate-glass, stood three plain, stoppered phials, one rose-coloured, one green, and one a faint yellow. Below, on a grey silk pillow, was set a small vellum-bound book. This was open. In capitals of gold upon the pages displayed were two words only—PARFUMS FRANCAIS.

The effect was charming.

We gathered about the window, ejaculating surprise.

"Urbs in rure," said Jonah. "And then you're wrong. The Rue de la Paix isn't in it."

Which is a description I cannot better.

Daphne lifted the portiere, and we followed her in.

Passing suddenly out of the brilliant sunshine, we could at first see nothing. Then gradually the interior of the shop took shape.

There was no counter, but an oblong mahogany glass-topped table, standing in the centre of the polished floor, evidently was discharging that office. Upon this stood three other phials, similar to those displayed in the window, but fitted with sprays instead of stoppers. In front of each a grey gold-lettered slip of silk, laid between the glass and the mahogany, declared its contents—ROSE BLEUE ... LYS NOIR ... JASMIN GRIS.

The room was very low, and the walls were panelled. Upon these, except for that framing the door and window, were rows of shelves. On these, at decent intervals, stood phials of four different sizes. To judge from the colour of their glass, each wall was devoted to one of the three scents. That facing us was green, that on our left rose-coloured, that upon our right a faint yellow. A black curtain in a corner suggested a doorway leading to another part of the house. The air, naturally enough, was full of perfume.

We stared about us in silence.

After waiting perhaps five minutes, peering unsuccessfully behind the curtain, raising our voices in talk, and finally rapping upon the table without attracting attendance, we decided to return to where we had left the cars and visit the shop again on our way out of the town.

As we came to the Plaza, the clock of the great church announced the hour. A quarter to one.

"Good Heavens!" cried Daphne, checking the time by her wrist-watch. "I'd no idea it was so late. And I left word for Evelyn to ring me up at the hotel at one o'clock." We made a rush for the cars. "Can it be done, Jonah?"

"Only by air," said my cousin. "Outside a track, thirteen miles in fourteen minutes is just a shade too thick; Still, there's nothing the matter with the road after Irun, and Evelyn may be delayed getting through."

He swung himself into Ping and started her up. My sister and Jill scrambled aboard while he was turning her round. As he headed for the Calle Mayor—

"Stop!" shrieked his sister. "The scent, Jonah, the scent. We've got to go back."

Jonah threw out the clutch.

"We'll get that!" cried Adele. "You go on, and we'll follow."

"Right."

The next moment Ping had dropped out of sight.

It was perhaps five minutes later that, after conjuring Berry to stay where he was and move the car for nobody, I assisted my wife on to the pavement.

When Fuenterrabia was planned, an eleven-feet-six wheel-base was not considered. To wheedle Pong to the mouth of the Calle del Puerto had been a ticklish business, and I had berthed her deliberately with an eye to our departure for the city gate, rather than to the convenience of such other vehicles as might appear. Besides, for my brother-in-law to have essayed manoeuvres in such surroundings would have been asking for trouble.

As Adele and I hastened along the street—

"We must look sharp," I insisted. "She's half across the fairway. If anybody with anything broader than a mule feels they can't wait, there'll be murder done."

We came to the shop, panting....

The place was just as we had left it, and—there was no one there.

I looked round impatiently.

"What on earth," I began, "is the good of a——"

As I spoke, the curtain in the corner was pushed to one side, and a French girl entered the room.

Her manner was most curious.

For a moment she hesitated, as though she would turn and fly. Then, with her eyes upon Adele, she moved slowly forward. She seemed to be making an effort to come and serve us. That she was most apprehensive was perfectly plain....

Half-way between curtain and table she stopped. Then she put a hand to her throat.

"Madame desires something?"

"Some scent, please," said Adele reassuringly.

Her cheerful tone appeared to encourage the girl. And when my wife pointed to the green phial and asked to be sprayed with its contents, I could have sworn her attitude was that of relief.

In a flash she had produced a small square of linen. This she handed to Adele.

"Smell, Madame. See, it is scentless. Pardon." She sprayed it with scent. "Voila. That is the 'Black Lily.'"

Adele passed it to me. The scent was exquisite.

"It's delicious," said Adele.

"Yes, Madame, it is good. Will Madame sample the others?"

"If you please."

Fresh squares of linen were produced, offered for inspection, and sprayed....

Each perfume seemed more ravishing than its predecessor. To test the worth of this impression, we reverted to the 'Black Lily.' One breath of this satisfied us that it was the best of the lot. To be quite sure, we smelt the 'Blue Rose,' and were instantly convinced of its superiority to its fellows. A return to the 'Grey Jasmine' persuaded us that there was only one scent in the shop. It was, indeed, impossible to award the palm. Each perfume had some irresistible virtue which the others lacked.

When, at last, Adele implored me to help her to a decision, I spoke to the point.

"There's only one thing to do. We can't wait now, so have a big bottle of each. Then you and Jill and Daphne can fight it out at home."

Adele asked the price of the scents.

"They are all the same price, Madame. The large bottle, one hundred pesetas—the others, seventy, fifty, and thirty, according to size."

"Very well. I'll take a large bottle of each."

"Thank you, Madame."

A prolonged and vicious croak from the end of the street argued that Berry's patience was wearing thin, but to have asked the girl to make haste would have been supererogatory.

In a trice three phials had been taken down from their shelves, and three stout silk-lined cases, of the pattern of safety-match boxes, had been produced. The phial went into its tray, the tray into its sheath, the case complete into a sheet of rough grey paper, and the whole was girt with cord in next to no time.

As the last knot was being tied Adele touched me upon the arm.

"I almost forgot," she said. Then she turned to the girl. "I have been told to ask for your 'Red Violets.'"

The scissors the girl was using fell to the floor. As she recovered them—

"Certainly, Madame," she whispered, laying a trembling hand upon the curtain behind.

She disappeared, to reappear almost immediately with a package precisely similar to those she had just made up. She placed it with the others.

"Oh," said Adele, "but you haven't——"

A perfect hurricane of croaks, mingled with cries of anger, interrupted her.

"Never mind," I cried, gathering up the parcels. "How much is it now? Four hundred, I suppose."

As I was counting the notes, a yell of anguish in Berry's unmistakable accents fell upon my ears.

I threw the money upon the table and bolted out of the shop with Adele at my heels....

As we came to the corner, I ran full tilt into—Eulalie. For an instant our eyes met, but she looked away pointedly, slipped to one side, and passed on....

Then—

"Obstaculos to you, sir!" roared Berry. "Look at my wing.... Yes, I see the cabriolet. But what of that? It's perfectly happy.... No, it didn't want to get by. And if it had—— Oh, go and push yourself off somewhere." Here he caught sight of me. "See what this greasy pantaloon's done? I told him he hadn't room, but he wouldn't wait. And now he's shoving it on to that cabriolet.... Oh, why can't I speak Spanish? I'd give him earache."

I thrust our packages into the fold of the hood and ran to examine the wing. Happily the damage was slight. I announced this relievedly.

"I daresay it is," raged Berry, as we resumed our seats. "What I object to is the poisonous hostility of the brute. He blinkin' well meant to do it."

"Dear, dear," said Adele, bubbling. "There must have been some misunderstanding. The Spaniard's courtesy is proverbial."

"Exactly," said I. "The stranger is at first apt to be carried away by the exaggerated politeness of the——"

"You may be," said Berry, "as blasphemous as you like, but, for the love of the home for little children, let's get out of this town."

I let in the clutch....

We were passing out of the beautiful armoried gateway, when an approaching peasant signalled to us to stop, and pointed excitedly back the way we had come. The fellow's manner suggested that we had dropped something.

I pulled up the car, opened my door, and jumped out.

As I did so, a breathless Eulalie appeared upon the other side of the car.

"I never thought I should catch you," she said uncertainly. "My car got mixed up with that waggon, so I chanced it and ran. And, now I'm here, I hardly know how to tell you...." She addressed herself to Adele. "But I fancy you've got my scent—'Red Violets.' It's rather—rather special. They only make it by request. And a friend of mine had ordered a bottle for me. It was put ready for me to call for, and, as far as I can make out, they've given it to you by mistake. I'm—I'm afraid I'm asking an awful lot, but might I have it? I'm leaving Spain altogether in half an hour, so I shan't have another chance."

I never remember feeling so utterly disillusioned. Recalling the telephone conversation of the day before, I was frankly disgusted. Such sharp practice as this smacked of a bargain sale.

The scent was ours. We had bought it fairly. Besides, it had not been reserved. If either Adele or Eulalie had to go empty away, Law and Equity alike were pronouncing in favour of my wife.

Adele was speaking.

"Oh, certainly. Boy, will you...?" I stepped into the car and thrust a hand into the fold of the hood. "I shall know which it is. The paper it's wrapped in is different. There's a line running through it, and the others were plain." I plucked out a case and gave it to her to examine. "That's right." Gravely she handed it to Eulalie. "I'm sorry you had to run so," she added gently.

The other shrugged her shoulders.

"I caught you," she said simply, "and that's the great thing." She glanced over her shoulder. "And here comes my car. I'm really most awfully grateful...."

With a swish the cabriolet swept alongside, skidded with locked wheels upon the pavement, and fetched up anyhow with its bonnet across our bows. It was a piece of driving for which the chauffeur ought to have been flogged.

"...most awfully grateful," repeated Eulalie, swinging the case by its cord. "You—you might have made it much harder...."

The next moment she was in the cabriolet...

Dazedly I watched the latter float out of sight.

"B-but she hasn't paid," I stammered. "She's never given us the money. Four pounds that bottle cost...."

We stared at one another in dismay.

At length—

"Stung," said Berry. "But what a beautiful bit of work! Four pounds' worth of scent for the asking. No unpleasantness, no sleight of hand, no nothing. Just a glad eye last night and a two-minute run this morning. I don't wonder she was grateful."

* * * * *

We had spent the afternoon traversing San Sebastian, and had found the place good—so good, in fact, that it was past six before we returned to the hotel.

I followed Adele upstairs rather wearily.

"I shall never get over this morning," I said. "Never." Arrived at our door, I fitted the key to the lock. "To think that I stood there and let you hand—— Oh, blast! We've left the scent in the car."

"So we have," said Adele. "What an awful nuisance! I knew we should. It's fatal to put anything in that hood. You don't see it."

I pushed open the door.

"As soon as I've changed," I said, switching on the light. "I'll go and——"

The sentence was never finished.

Had I been told that a cyclone had struck our bedroom, I should not have been surprised.

Adele and I stood staring at such a state of disorder as I had never dreamed of.

The bed had been dragged from the wall, and its clothes distributed about the room; the wardrobe and cupboards stood open: every drawer in the room was on the floor: our clothing had been flung, like soiled linen, into corners: my wife's dressing-case had been forced, and now lay open, face downward, upon the carpet, while its contents sprawled upon a mattress: a chair had fallen backwards into the empty cabin-trunk, and the edge of a sheet had caught on one of its upturned legs....

"Adele! Boy!" The swish of a skirt, and there was my sister behind us. "Our room's been—— Good Heavens, yours is the same! Whatever's the meaning of it?"

Within three minutes two managers and three clerks were on the scene. To do them justice, they were genuinely perturbed. Fresh rooms—a magnificent suite—were put at our disposal: under our own eyes our belongings were gathered into sheets and carried to our new quarters: maids were summoned and placed at the girls' service: valets were sent for: the dressing-case was sent to be repaired: we were begged at our convenience to report whether there were any valuables we could not find, and over and over again we were assured that the management would not rest until the thieves were taken: jointly and severally we were offered profound apologies for so abominable an outrage.

Berry and Jonah, who had been taking the cars to the garage, arrived in the midst of the removal.

Upon the circumstances being laid before my brother-in-law, he seemed for some time to be deprived of the power of speech, and it was only upon being shown the contents of a sheet which had just been conveyed by two valets into his wife's bedroom that he at last gave tongue.

Drawing a pair of dress trousers from beneath a bath towel, a pair of brogues, and a box of chocolates, he sobbed aloud.

"You all," he said brokenly, "do know these trousers: I remember the first time ever I did put them on; 'twas on a summer's evening, in the Park...."

With one accord and some asperity my sister and I requested him to desist.

"All right," he said. "But why worry? I know there's nothing valuable gone, because in that case I should have been told long ago. We've been shocked and inconvenienced, of course; but, to balance it, we've got a topping suite, a private sitting-room thrown in, and a whole fleet of bottle-washers in attendance, all stamping to wash and iron and brush our clothes as they've never been brushed before. Jonah's and Jill's rooms all right?"

"Yes."

"Well, let them move along, any way. Then we shall all be together. And now, if we've got any sense, we shall let this sympathetic crowd straighten up everything—they're simply bursting for the word 'Go!'—and gather round the fire, which I see they've lighted, and talk about something else."

This was sound advice.

A close acquaintance with crime—the feeling that a robber has handled her personal effects, mauled her apparel, trodden her own sanctuary—is bound to jangle a sensitive woman's nerves. The less the girls thought upon the matter, the better for them....

Orders were given, a sofa was drawn towards the hearth, Jonah went to seek some champagne, and I slipped on a coat and left the hotel for the garage.

When I returned some twenty minutes later, Adele had discovered a piano and was playing "Whispering," while the others were dancing with as much freedom from care as they might have displayed at a night-club.

When I laid the scent on the table, the dance died, and Daphne, Adele, and Jill crowded about me.

"One for each of you," I said. "With my love. But wait one moment." I turned to Adele. "How did you tell the 'Red Violets' from the others?"

"It's paper had a line——"

I pointed to the three parcels.

"So have they all," I said. "It depends on the way the light strikes it. One moment you see it, and the next you can't."

My wife examined the packages in turn.

"You're perfectly right," she said. Then, "Good Heavens!" she cried. "Perhaps I gave that woman the wrong one, after all."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I don't suppose she cared. What's in a name? They're each of them worth four pounds."

"That's true," said Adele musingly. "Still...."

We opened them one by one.

The first was the Black Lily.

Then came the Grey Jasmine.

I ripped the paper off the third case and laid it upon the table.

With my fingers about the cardboard, I paused.

"And what," said I, "is the betting?"

"Blue Rose," cried Jill.

"Red Violets," said Adele.

I opened the case.

They were both wrong.

The tray contained no perfume at all.

Crammed into the form of a scent-bottle was a dirty huddle of wash-leather.

I lifted it out between my finger and thumb.

The diamond and emerald necklace which lay beneath must have been worth a quarter of a million.

* * * * *

"Yes," said the British Vice-Consul, some two hours later, "this little seaside town is a sort of Thieves' Parlour. Four-fifths of the stuff that's stolen in Spain goes out of the country this way. As in the present case, the actual thief daren't try to cross the frontier, but he's always got an accomplice waiting at San Sebastian. We know the thieves all right—at least, the police do, but the accomplices are the devil. Often enough, they go no further than Biarritz, and there are so many of the Smart Set constantly floating between the two towns that they're frightfully hard to spot. In fact, about the only chance is to trace their connection with the thief. What I mean is this. A's got the jewels and he's got to pass them to B. That necessitates some kind of common denominator. Either they've got to meet or they've got to visit—at different times, of course—the same bureau....

"Well, there you are.

"By the merest accident you stumbled upon the actual communication of the password by A to B. The voice you heard upon the telephone was that of the original thief, or of his representative. This morning you visited the actual bureau. I know the place well. My wife's bought scent there. It's always been a bit of a mystery, but I never suspected this. I've not the slightest doubt it's been used as a bureau for years. Well, in all innocence you gave the password, and in all innocence received the gems. B arrives too late, finds that you have them, and starts in pursuit. I've no doubt she really ran on to see which way you'd gone. She couldn't have hoped to catch you on foot. Of course, she couldn't understand how you'd come by the password, but the few words you'd had with her the night before made her suspect your innocence. Still, she wasn't sure, and that's why her chauffeur fetched up across your bows."

"You don't mean——"

"I do indeed. If you hadn't handed them over, they'd have been taken by force....

"Well, finding that either by accident or design she's been sold a pup, B communicates with the gang, and, while you're out, your rooms are ransacked."

"And I walked," I said, "after dark from the Calle de Miracruz to this hotel with the baubles under my arm."

The Vice-Consul laughed.

"The armour of ignorance," he said, "will sometimes turn the keenest wits. The confidence it gives its wearer is proverbial."

"But why," said Adele, "was the shop-girl so terribly nervous? I mean, if she's used to this sort of traffic...."

The Vice-Consul fingered his chin.

Then he picked up the jewels.

"Perhaps," he said slowly, "perhaps she knew where they came from."

"Where was that?" said Daphne.

The Vice-Consul frowned.

"When I last saw them," he said, "they were in the Royal Treasury."

* * * * *

At half-past ten the next morning I was walking upon the golf links of St. Jean-de-Luz.

I was not there of choice.

Two very eminent detectives—one French and one Spanish—were upon either side of me.

We were close to the seventh green, when the Frenchman touched me upon the arm.

"Look, sir," he said, pointing. "There is a golf party coming. They are making, no doubt, for this spot. When they arrive, pray approach and look at them. If you should recognise anyone, I beg that you will take off your hat."

He bowed, and a moment later I was alone.

I sat down on the turf and took out a cigarette....

With a plop, a golf ball alighted upon the green, trickled a few feet, and stopped a yard from the hole. Presently, another followed it, rolled across the turf, and struggled into the rough.

I got upon my feet and strolled towards the green....

It was a mixed foursome.

In a cherry-coloured jumper and a white skirt, Eulalie looked prettier than ever.

She saw me at once, of course, but she took no notice.

Her companions glanced at me curiously.

Putter in hand, Eulalie walked to her ball—the far one—and turned her back to me. After a little consideration, she holed out.

It was a match shot, and her companions applauded vigorously.

Eulalie just smiled.

"I'm always better," she said, "when I've something at stake."

"And what," said her partner, a large blue-eyed Englishman with a grey moustache, "have you got at stake this time?"

Eulalie laughed mischievously.

"If I told you," she said, "you wouldn't believe me."

Light-heartedly enough, they passed to the eighth tee.

I watched them go thoughtfully.

When the detectives came up—

"I didn't take off my hat," I explained, "because I wasn't sure. But I'm almost certain that somewhere before I've seen that great big fellow with the grey moustache."

My companions were not interested.



CHAPTER IX

HOW JONAH TOOK OFF HIS COAT, AND BERRY FLIRTED WITH FORTUNE FOR ALL HE WAS WORTH

"My dear," said Berry, "be reasonable."

"With pleasure," said Daphne. "But I'm not going to let you off."

Her husband frowned upon a roll.

"When I say," he said, "that I have a feeling to-day that my luck is in, I'm not being funny. Only once before have I had that conviction. I was at Cannes at the time—on the point of leaving for Paris. I went to Monte Carlo instead.... That night I picked up over six hundred pounds."

"I know," said his wife. "You've often told me. But I can't help it. I made you give me your word before we came here, and I'm not going to let you off."

"I gave it without thinking," declared her husband. "Besides, I never dreamed I should have this feeling."

"I did," said Daphne shortly. "That's why I made you promise. Have some more coffee?"

Pointedly ignoring the invitation, Berry returned to his roll and, after eyeing it with disgust which the bread in no way deserved, proceeded to disrupt and eviscerate it with every circumstance of barbarity. Covertly, Jonah and I exchanged smiles....

Forty-eight hours had elapsed since I had cut Eulalie, and this was the morning of our last day at San Sebastian.

During our short stay the weather had been superb, and we had been out and about the whole day long. Of an evening—save for one memorable exception—we had been to the Casino....

For as long as I could remember, Berry had had a weakness for Roulette. For Baccarat, Petits Chevaux, and the rest he cared nothing: fifty pounds a year would have covered his racing bets: if he played Bridge, it was by request. My brother-in-law was no gambler. There was something, however, about the shining wheel, sunk in its board of green cloth, which he found irresistible.

Remembering this fascination, my sister had broached the matter so soon as we had decided to visit San Sebastian, with the happy result that, ere we left Pau, her husband had promised her three things. The first was to leave his cheque-books at home; the second, to take with him no more than two hundred pounds; the third, to send for no more money.

And now the inevitable had happened.

The two hundred pounds were gone—every penny; we were not due to leave until the morrow; and—Berry was perfectly satisfied that his luck had changed. As for the promises his wife had extracted, he was repenting his rashness as heartily as she was commending her prevision.

"Nothing," said Berry, turning again to the charge, "was said about borrowing, was it?"

"No."

"Very well, then. Boy and Jonah'll have to lend me something. I'm not going to let a chance like this go."

"Sorry, old chap," said Jonah, "but we've got to pay the hotel bill. Thanks to your activities, we're landed with——"

"How much have you got?" demanded Berry.

I cut in and threw the cards on the table.

"Brother," I said, "we love you. For that reason alone we won't lend you a paper franc. But then you knew that before you asked us."

My brother-in-law groaned.

"I tell you," he affirmed, "you're throwing away money. With another two hundred and fifty I could do anything. I can feel it in my bones."

"You'd lose the lot," said Jonah. "Besides, you've eaten your cake. If you'd limited yourself last night and played rationally, instead of buttering the board...."

"I'm sure," said Jill, "you ought to have played on a system. If you'd put a pound on 'RED' and kept on doubling each time you lost——"

"Yes," said Berry. "That's an exhilarating stunt, that is. Before you know where you are, you've got to put two hundred and fifty-six pounds on an even chance to get one back. With a limit of four hundred and eighty staring you in the face, that takes a shade more nerve than I can produce. I did try it once—at Madeira. Luck was with me. After three hours I'd made four shillings and lost half a stone.... Incidentally, when a man starts playing Roulette on a system, it's time to pray for his soul. I admit there are hundreds who do it—hundreds of intelligent, educated, thoughtful men and women. Well, you can pray for the lot. They're trying to read something which isn't written. They're studying a blank page. They're splitting their brains over a matter on which an idiot's advice would be as valuable. I knew a brilliant commercial lawyer who used to sit down at the table and solemnly write down every number that turned up for one hour. For the next sixty minutes he planked still more solemnly on the ones that had turned up least often. Conceive such a frame of mind. That wonderful brain had failed to grasp the one simple glaring point of which his case consisted—that Roulette is lawless. He failed to appreciate that he was up against Fortune herself. He couldn't realise that because '7' had turned up seven times running at a quarter past nine, that was no earthly reason why '7' shouldn't turn up eight times running at a quarter past ten. Heaven knows what fun he got out of it. For me, the whole joy of the thing is that you're flirting with Fate." He closed his eyes suddenly and flung back his head. "Oh," he breathed, "I tell you she's going to smile to-night. I can see the light in her eyes. I have a feeling that she's going to be very kind ... very kind ... somehow ..."

We let him linger over the fond reflection, eyeing one another uneasily. It was, we felt, but the prelude to a more formidable attack.

We were right.

"I demand," barked Berry, "that I be allowed the wherewithal to prosecute my suit."

"Not a farthing," said Daphne. "To think that that two hundred pounds is gone makes me feel ill."

"That's exactly why I want to win it back—and more also." He looked round desperately. "Anybody want a birthright? For two hundred and fifty quid—I'd change my name."

"It sounds idiotic, I know," said I, "but supposing—supposing you lost."

"I shan't to-night," said Berry.

"Sure?"

"Positive. I tell you, I feel——"

"And you," said Jonah scornfully, "you have the temerity to talk about praying for others' souls. You sit there and——"

"I tell you," insisted Berry, "that I have a premonition. Look here. If I don't have a dart to-night, I shall never be the same man again.... Boy, I implore you——"

I shook my head.

"Nothing doing," I said. "You'll thank us one day."

"You don't understand," wailed Berry. "You've never known the feeling that you were bound to win."

"Yes, I have—often. And it's invariably proved a most expensive sensation."

There was a moment's silence. Then—

"Right," said my brother-in-law. "You're one and all determined to see me go down. You've watched me drop two hundred, and not one of you's going to give me a hand to help me pick it up. It may be high-minded, but it's hardly cordial. Some people might call it churlish.... Upon my soul, you are a cold-blooded crowd. Have you ever known a deal I wouldn't come in on? And now, because you are virtuous, I'm to lose my fun.... Ugh! Hymn Number Four Hundred and Seventy-Seven, 'The Cakes and Ale are Over.'"

Struggling with laughter, Adele left her seat and, coming quickly behind him, set her white hands upon his shoulders.

"Dear old chap," she said, laying her cheek against his, "look at it this way. You're begging and praying us to let you down. Yes, you are. And if we helped you to break your word, neither you nor we would ever, at the bottom of our hearts, think quite so much of us again. And that's not good enough. Even if you won five thousand pounds it wouldn't compensate. Respect and self-respect aren't things you can buy."

"But, sweetheart," objected Berry, "nothing was said about borrowing. Daphne admits it. If I can raise some money without reference to my bankers, I'm at liberty to do so."

"Certainly," said Adele. "But we mustn't help. If that was allowed, it 'ld knock the bottom out of your promise. You and Daphne and we are all in the same stable: and that—to mix metaphors—puts us out of Court. If you ran into a fellow you knew, and he would lend you some money, or you found a hundred in the street, or a letter for you arrived——"

"—or one of the lift-boys died, leaving me sole legatee.... I see. Then I should be within my rights. In fact, if anything which can't happen came to pass, no one would raise any objection to my taking advantage of it. You know, you're getting too generous."

"That's better," said Adele. "A moment ago we were cold-blooded."

Berry winced.

"I take it back," he said humbly. "Your central heating arrangements, at any rate, are in perfect order. Unless your heart was glowing, your soft little cheek wouldn't be half so warm."

"I don't know about that," said Adele, straightening her back. "But we try to be sporting. And that's your fault," she added. "You've taught us."

The applause which greeted this remark was interrupted by the entry of a waiter bearing some letters which had been forwarded from Pau.

A registered package, for which Berry was requested to sign, set us all thinking.

"Whatever is it?" said Daphne.

"I can't imagine," replied her husband, scrutinising the postmark. "'Paris'? I've ordered nothing from Paris that I can remember."

"Open it quick," said Jonah. "Perhaps it's some wherewithal."

Berry hacked at the string....

The next instant he leaped to his feet.

"Fate!" he shrieked. "Fate! I told you my luck was in!" He turned to his wife breathlessly. "'Member those Premium Bonds you wanted me to go in for? Over a month ago I applied for twenty-five. I'd forgotten about the trash—and here they are!"

* * * * *

Two hours and a half had gone by, and we were rounding a tremendous horse-shoe bend on the way to Zarauz, when my wife touched Berry upon the arm.

"Aren't you excited?" she said.

"Just a trifle," he answered. "But I'm trying to tread it under. It's essential that I should keep cool. When you're arm in arm with Fortune, you're apt to lose your head. And then you're done. The jade'll give me my cues—I'm sure of it. But she won't shout them. I've got to keep my eyes skinned and my ears pricked, if I'm going to pick them up."

"If I," said Adele, "were in your shoes, I should be just gibbering."

It was, indeed, a queer business.

The dramatic appearance of the funds had startled us all. Had they arrived earlier, had they come in the shape of something less easily negotiable than Bearer Bonds, had they been representing more or less than precisely the very sum which Berry had named in his appeal, we might have labelled the matter "Coincidence," and thought no more of it. Such a label, however, refused to stick. The affair ranked with thunder out of a cloudless sky.

As for my sister, with the wind taken out of her sails, she had hauled down her flag. The thing was too hard for her.

It was Jonah who had sprung a mine in the midst of our amazement.

"Stop," he had cried. "Where's yesterday's paper? Those things are Premium Bonds, and, unless I'm utterly mistaken, there was a drawing two days ago. One of those little fellows may be worth a thousand pounds."

The paper had confirmed his report....

The thought that, but for his wit, we might have released such substance to clutch at such a shadow, had set us all twittering more than ever.

At once a council had been held.

Finally it had been decided to visit a bank and, before we disposed of the Bonds, to ask for and search the official bulletin in which are published the results of all Government Lottery Draws.

Inquiry, however, had revealed that the day was some sort of a holiday, and that no banks would be open....

At last a financier was unearthed—a changer of money. In execrable French he had put himself at our service.

'Yes, he had the bulletin. It had arrived this morning...'

Feverishly we searched its pages.

Once we had found the column, a glance was enough. Our Bonds bore consecutive numbers, of which the first figure was "o." The series appeared to be unfortunate. The winning list contained not a single representative.

More reassured than disappointed, we raised the question of a loan.

Our gentleman picked at the Bonds and wrinkled his nose. After a little he offered one hundred pounds.

This was absurd, and we said so.

The Bonds were worth two hundred and fifty pounds, and were as good as hard cash. The fellow had no office, and, when we wanted him again, as like as not he would have disappeared. His personal appearance was against him.

When we protested, his answer came pat.

'He was no money-lender. In the last ten years he had not advanced ten pesetas. He was a changer of money, a broker, and nothing else.'

Finally he offered one hundred and fifty pounds—at sixty per cent. a year or part of a year.

For one so ignorant of usury, this was not bad. We thanked him acidly, offered the Bonds for sale, and, after a little calculation, accepted two hundred and forty-three pounds in Spanish notes.

Half an hour later we had climbed into the cars, anxious to make the most of our last day in Spain....

If the way to Zarauz was handsome, that from Zarauz to Zumaya was fit for a king. Take us a range of mountains—bold, rugged, precipitous, and bring the sea to their foot—no ordinary sea, sirs, but Ocean himself, the terrible Atlantic to wit, in all his glory. And there, upon the boundary itself, where his proud waves are stayed, build us a road, a curling shelf of a road, to follow the line of that most notable indenture, witnessing the covenant 'twixt land and sea, settled when Time was born.

Above us, the ramparts of Spain—below, an echelon of rollers, ceaselessly surging to their doom—before us, a ragged wonder of coast-line, rising and falling and thrusting into the distance, till the snarling leagues shrank into murmuring inches and tumult dwindled into rest—on our right, the might, majesty, dominion and power of Ocean, a limitless laughing mystery of running white and blue, shining and swaying and swelling till the eye faltered before so much magnificence and Sky let fall her curtain to spare the failing sight—for over six miles we hung over the edge of Europe....

Little wonder that we sailed into Zumaya—all red roofs, white walls and royal-blue timbers—with full hearts, flushed and exulting. The twenty precious minutes which had just gone by were charged with the spirit of the Odyssey.

Arrived at the village, we stopped, to wait for the others. So soon as they came, we passed on slowly along the road to Deva. Perhaps a mile from Zumaya we ate our lunch....

The comfortable hush which should succeed a hearty meal made in the open air upon a summer's day was well established. Daphne and Adele were murmuring conversation: in a low voice Jill was addressing Berry and thinking of Piers: pipe in mouth, Jonah was blinking into a pair of field-glasses: and I was lying flat upon my back, neither smoking nor sleeping, but gradually losing consciousness with a cigarette in my hand.

I had come to the point of postponing through sheer lethargy the onerous duty of lifting the cigarette to my lips, when, with an oath that ripped the air, Jonah started to his feet.

Sleep went flying.

I sat up amazedly, propping myself on my hands....

With dropped jaw, my cousin was staring through the glasses as a man who is looking upon sudden death. While I watched, he lowered them, peered into the distance, clapped them again to his eyes, let them fall, glanced swiftly to right and left, shut his mouth with a snap, and made a dash for the cars....

With his hand upon Ping's door, he turned and pointed a trembling forefinger along the valley.

"There's Zed," he cried. "My horse. Haven't seen him since Cambrai. Leading a team, and they're flogging him."

I fancy he knew I should join him, for he never closed Ping's door. As he changed into second, I swung myself inboard. A moment later we were flying along the dusty road....

Zed had been Jonah's charger for over three years. Together, for month after month, the two had endured the rough and revelled in the smooth. They had shared misery, and they had shared ease. Together, many times, they had passed through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. And, while the animal must have loved Jonah, my cousin was devoted to the horse. At last came Cambrai....

Jonah was shot through the knee and sent to England. And Zed—poor Zed disappeared.

My cousin's efforts to trace him were superhuman. Unhappily his groom had been killed, when Jonah was wounded, and, though all manner of authorities, from the Director of Remounts downwards, had lent their official aid, though a most particular description had been circulated and special instructions issued to all the depots through which the horse might pass, to his lasting grief Jonah had never heard of Zed again.

And now.... I found myself praying that he had not been mistaken.

Jonah was driving like a man possessed.

We tore up a rise, whipped round a bend and, coming suddenly upon a road on our right, passed it with locked wheels.

The noise my cousin made, as he changed into reverse, showed that his love for Zed was overwhelming.

We shot backward, stopped, stormed to the right and streaked up a shocking road at forty-five.... We flashed into a hamlet, turned at right angles, missed a waggon by an inch and flung up a frightful track towards a farm....

Then, before I knew what had happened, we had stopped dead, and Jonah's door was open and he was limping across the road.

In the jaws of a rude gateway stood a waggon of stones. Harnessed to this were three sorry-looking mules and, leading them, the piteous wreck of what had been a blue roan. The latter was down—and out.

For this the immediate reason was plain.

The teamster, better qualified for the treadmill, had so steered his waggon that the hub of its off fore wheel had met the gatepost. This he had not observed, but, a firm believer in the omnipotency of the lash, had determined to reduce the check, whatever might be its cause, by methods of blood and iron. Either because he was the most convenient or by virtue of his status, the leader had received the brunt of the attack. That is, of course, one way of driving....

The blue roan was down, and his master had just kicked him in the belly when Jonah arrived.

The Spaniard was a big fellow, but my cousin has wrists of steel.... He took the whip from its owner as one takes a toy from a baby. Then with the butt he hit him across the mouth. The Spaniard reeled, caught his foot on a stone and fell heavily. Jonah threw down the whip and took off his coat.

"I don't want to kill him," he said quietly.

When the other rose, he looked extremely ugly. This was largely due to the fact that most of his front teeth were missing and that it was difficult, because of the blood, to see exactly where his face ended and his mouth began. The look in his eyes, however, was suggesting the intent to kill.

He had no idea, of course, that he was facing perhaps the one man living who could have thrashed a champion....

It is not often that you will see half a dozen of the most illustrious members of the National Sporting Club attending an Assault-at-Arms held at a public school. Three years running I had that honour. The gentlemen came to see Jonah. And though no applause was allowed during the boxing, they always broke the rule.... In due season my cousin went to Oxford.... In his second year, in the Inter-University contest, he knocked his opponent out in seven seconds. The latter remained unconscious for more than six hours, each crawling one of which took a year off Jonah's life. From that day my cousin never put on the gloves again....

All, however, that the Spaniard saw was a tall lazy-looking man with a game leg, who by his gross interference had taken him by surprise.

He lowered his head and actually ran upon his fate....

I have never seen "punishment" at once so frightful and so punctiliously administered. Jonah worked with the swift precision of the surgeon about the operating table. He confessed afterwards that his chief concern was to keep his opponent too blind with rage to see the wisdom of capitulation. He need not have worried....

When it had become obvious that the blessed gifts of sight, smell, and hearing had been almost wholly withdrawn from the gentleman, when, in fact, he had practically ceased attempting to defend himself, and merely bellowed with mortification at every stinging blow, Jonah knocked him sprawling on to the midden, and drew off his wash-leather gloves.

The next moment he was down on his knees beside the roan, plucking at the rough harness with trembling fingers.

Once the horse sought to rise, but at Jonah's word he stopped and laid down his head.

Between us we got him clear. Then we stood back, and Jonah called him.

With a piteous effort the roan got upon his legs. That there was back trouble and at least one hock was sprung I saw at a glance. The horse had been broken down. He was still blowing badly, and I ran for the flask in the car. When I came back, Jonah was caressing his charger with tears running down his cheeks....

There is a listlessness, born of harsh treatment, suckled on dying hopes, reared on the bitter memory of happier days, which is more eloquent than tears. There is an air of frozen misery, of a despair so deep that a kind word has come to lose its meaning, which none but horses wear.

Looking upon Zed, I felt ashamed to be a man.

Gaunt, filthy, and tottering, the flies mercilessly busy about three shocking sores, the roan was presenting a terrible indictment to be filed against the Day of Judgment. '...And not one of them is forgotten before God....' But there was worse than pain of body here. The dull, see-nothing eyes, the heavy-laden head, the awful-stricken mien, told of a tragedy to make the angels weep—an English thoroughbred, not dead, but with a broken heart.

We had administered the brandy, Jonah was bathing a sore, and I had made a wisp and was rubbing Zed down, when—

"Good day," said a voice.

With his arms folded upon the sill, a little grey-headed man was watching us from a window.

I looked up and nodded.

"Good day," I said.

"Ah like boxing," said the man. "Ah've bin twelve years in the States, an' Ah'd rather see boxing than a bull-fight. You like baseball?"

I shook my head.

"I've never seen it," I said.

"Haven't missed much," was the reply. "But Ah like boxing. You visiting Spain?"

"For a few days."

"'S a fine country. Bin to Sevilla?"

Entirely ignoring the violence which he had just witnessed, to say nothing of our trespass upon his property and our continued attention to his horse, the farmer proceeded to discuss the merits and shortcomings of Spain with as much detached composure as if we had met him in a tavern.

At length Jonah got up.

"Will you sell me this horse?"

"Yes," said the man. "Ah will."

"What d'you want for him?"

"Five hundred pesetas."

"Right," said Jonah. "Have you got a halter?"

The man disappeared. Presently he emerged from a door halter in hand.

The twenty pounds passed, and Zed was ours.

Tenderly my cousin fitted the halter about the drooping head.

"One more effort, old chap," he said gently, turning towards the gate....

Out of compassion for the mules, I drew the farmer's attention to the hub which was nursing the gatepost.

He just nodded.

"Pedro could never drive," he said.

"I should get a new carter," I said.

He shrugged his shoulders. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the carcase upon the midden.

"He is my step-father. We do not speak," he said simply.

We found the others in the hamlet through which we had passed. There I handed over Ping to Adele, and thence Jonah and Zed and I walked to Zumaya.

To find a box at the station was more than we had dared hope for, but there it was—empty and waiting to be returned to San Sebastian. Beneath the influence of twenty-five pesetas, the station-master saw no good reason why it should not be returned by the evening train.

We left Jonah to accompany his horse and hurried home by car to seek a stable.

When we sat down to dinner that night at eight o'clock, Jonah called for the wine-list and ordered a magnum of champagne.

When the wine was poured, he raised his glass and looked at me.

"Thank you for helping me," he said. He glanced round with his eyes glowing. "And all of you for being so glad." He drank and touched Adele upon the shoulder. "In a loose-box, up to his knees in straw, with an armful of hay to pick over, and no congestion.... Have you ever felt you wanted to get up and dance?" He turned to Berry. "Brother, your best. May you spot the winner to-night, as I did this afternoon."

"Thank you," said Berry, "thank you. I must confess I'd been hoping for some sort of intuition as to what to do. But I've not had a hint so far. Perhaps, when I get to the table.... It's silly, of course. One mustn't expect too much, but I had the feeling that I was going to be given a tip. You know. Like striking a dud egg, and then putting your shirt on a horse called 'Attar of Roses.' ... Never mind. Let's talk about something else. Why did you call him 'Zed'?"

"Short for 'Zero,'" said Jonah. "I think my groom started it, and I——"

"Zero," said Berry quietly. "I'm much obliged."

* * * * *

It was a quarter to eleven, and Berry had lost one hundred and seventy pounds.

Across her husband's back Daphne threw me a despairing glance. Upon the opposite side of the table, Adele and Jill, one upon either side of Jonah, stared miserably before them. I lighted my tenth cigarette and wondered what Berry had done....

The table was crowded.

From their points of vantage the eight croupiers alternately did their business and regarded the assembly with a bored air.

A beautifully dressed American, who had been losing, observed the luck of her neighbour, a burly Dutchman, with envious eyes. With a remonstrance in every fingertip, a debonnaire Frenchman was laughingly upbraiding his fellow for giving him bad advice. From above his horn-rimmed spectacles an old gentleman in a blue suit watched the remorseless rake jerk his five pesetas into "the Bank" in evident annoyance. Cheek by jowl with a dainty Englishwoman, who reminded me irresistibly of a Dresden shepherdess, a Spanish Jew, who had won, was explosively disputing with a croupier the amount of his stake. Two South Americans were leaning across the table, nonchalantly "plastering the board." A little old lady, with an enormous bag, was thanking an elegant Spaniard for disposing her stake as she desired. Finger to lip, a tall Spanish girl in a large black hat was sizing her remaining counters with a faint frown. A very young couple, patently upon their honeymoon, were conferring excitedly....

"Hagan juego, Senores."

The conference between the lovers became more intense.

"Esta hecho?"

"Oh, be quick!" cried the girl. "Between '7' and '8,' Bill. Between..."

As the money went on—

"No va mas," cried the croupier in charge.

Two pairs of eyes peered at the revolving wheel. They did not notice that the Dutchman, plunging at the last moment upon 'MANQUE,' had touched their counter with his cuff and moved it to '9.'

The ball lost its momentum, poppled across the ridges, and leaped to rest.

"Nueve."

Two faces fell. I wondered if a new frock had vanished into air....

With the edge of his rake a croupier was tapping their counter and looking round for the claimant.

For a second the Jew peered about him. Then he pointed to himself and stretched out his hand.

I called to the croupier in French.

"No. It belongs to Monsieur and Madame. I saw what happened. That gentleman moved it with his cuff."

"Merci, Monsieur."

With a sickly leer the pretender rallied the croupier, confidentially assured the dainty Englishwoman that he did not care, and, laughing a little too heartily, waved the thirty-five pounds towards their bewildered owners.

"B-but it isn't mine," stammered the boy.

"Yes," I said, smiling. "Your counter was moved. I saw the whole thing." I hesitated. Then, "If you'll take an old hand's advice, you'll stop now. A thing like that's invariably the end of one's luck."

I was not 'an old hand,' and I had no authority for my dictum. My interference was unpardonable. When the two stopped to thank me, as they passed from the room, I felt like a criminal. Still, they looked very charming; and, after all, a frock on the back is worth a score at the dressmaker's.

"I am going," said Berry, "to suspend my courtship and smoke a cigarette. Possibly I'm going too strong. If I give the lady a rest, she may think more of me."

"I suppose," said Daphne, "you're bent on losing it all."

Her husband frowned.

"Fortune favours the bold," he said shortly. "You see, she's just proving me. If I were to falter, she'd turn me down."

It was impossible not to admire such confidence.

I bade my sister take heart.

"Much," I concluded, "may be done with forty pounds."

"Fifty," corrected Berry. "And now let's change the subject. How d'you pronounce Lwow? Or would you rather tell me a fairy tale?"

I shook my head.

"My power," I said, "of concentration is limited."

"Then I must," said Berry. "It's fatal to brood over your fortune." He sat back in his chair and let the smoke make its own way out of his mouth. "There was once a large king. It wasn't his fault. The girth went with the crown. All the Koppabottemburgs were enormous. Besides, it went very well with his subjects. Looking upon him, they felt they were getting their money's worth. A man of simple tastes, his favourite hobby was fowls.

"One day, just as he'd finished cleaning out the fowl-house, he found that he'd run out of maize. So he slipped on his invisible cloak and ran round to the grocer's. He always wore his invisible cloak when shopping. He found it cheaper.

"Well, the grocer was just recovering from the spectacle of two pounds of the best maize shoving themselves into a brown-paper bag and pushing off down the High Street, when a witch came in. The grocer's heart sank into his boots. He hated witches. If you weren't civil, before you knew where you were, you were a three-legged toad or a dew-pond or something. So you had to be civil. As for their custom—well, it wasn't worth having. They wouldn't look at bacon, unless you'd guarantee that the pig had been killed on a moonless Friday with the wind in the North, and as for pulled figs, if you couldn't swear that the box had been crossed by a one-eyed man whose father had committed arson in a pair of brown boots, you could go and bury them under the lilacs.

"This time, however, the grocer was pleasantly surprised.

"I didn't know," said the witch, "that you were under the patronage of Royalty."

"Oh, didn't you?" said the grocer. "Why, the Master of the Horse has got his hoof-oil here for nearly two days now."

"Master of the Horse be snookered," said the witch. "I'm talking about the king."

"'The K-King?'" stammered the grocer.

"'Oh, cut it out,' said the witch, to whom an invisible cloak meant nothing. 'No doubt you've been told to keep quiet, but I don't count. And I'll bet you did the old fool over his maize.'

"The grocer's brain worked very rapidly. The memory of a tin of mixed biscuits and half a Dutch cheese, which had floated out of his shop only the day before, and numerous other recollections of mysteriously animated provisions came swarming into his mind. At length—

"'We never charge Royalty,' he said loftily.

"'Oh, don't you?' snapped the witch. 'Well, supposing you change this broomstick. You swore blue it was cut on a rainless Tuesday from an ash that had supported a murderer with a false nose. The very first time I used it, it broke at six thousand feet. I was over the sea at the time, and had to glide nearly four miles to make a landing. Can you b-beat it?'

"When the grocer put up his shutters two hectic hours later, he was a weary man. In the interval he had been respectively a toad, a picture post-card, and a tin of baked beans. And somebody had knocked him off the counter during his third metamorphosis, so he felt like death. All the same, before going to bed, he sat down and wrote to the Lord Chamberlain, asking for permission to display the Royal Arms. Just to make it quite clear that he wasn't relying on hoof-oil, he added that he was shortly expecting a fine consignment of maize and other commodities.

"The postscript settled it.

"The permission was granted, the king 'dealt' elsewhere in future, and the witch was given three hours to leave the kingdom. So the grocer lost his two worst customers and got the advertisement of his life. Which goes to show, my children, that if only—— Hullo! Here's a new shift."

It was true.

The eight croupiers were going off duty. As they vacated their seats, eight other gentlemen in black immediately replaced them.

Berry extinguished his cigarette and handed me his last bunch of notes. In exchange for these, with the peculiar delicacy of his kind, the croupier upon my right selected, arrayed and offered me counters of the value of forty English pounds.

He might have been spared his pains.

As I was piling the money by Berry's side—

"Zero," announced a nasal voice.

"We're off," said my brother-in-law. "Will you see that they pay me right?"

One hundred and seventy-five pounds.

Ere I had completed my calculation—

"Zero," repeated the nasal voice.

"I said so," said Berry, raising his eyebrows. "I had the maximum that time. Will you be so good? Thank you."

Trembling with excitement, I started to count the equivalent of four hundred and ninety pounds.

Berry was addressing the croupier.

"No. Don't touch the stake. She's not finished yet."

"Esta hecho?"

"Don't leave it all," begged Daphne. "Take——"

"No vas mas."

Desperately I started to check the money again....

"Zero."

There was a long gasp of wonderment, immediately followed by a buzz of exclamation. The croupiers were smiling. Jill was jumping up and down in her seat. Adele was shaking Jonah by the arm. My sister was clinging to Berry, imploring him to "stop now." The two Frenchmen were laughing and nodding their congratulations. The little old lady was bowing and beaming good-will. Excepting, perhaps, the croupiers. Berry seemed less concerned than anyone present.

"No. I'm not going to stop," he said gently, "because that would be foolish. But I'll give it a miss this time, because it's not coming up. It's no longer a question of guessing, dear. I tell you, I know."

The ball went flying.

After a moment's interval—

"Ocho (eight)," announced the croupier.

"You see," said Berry. "I should have lost my money. Now this time my old friend Zero will come along."

On to the white-edged rectangle went fourteen pounds.

A few seconds later I was receiving four hundred and ninety....

I began to feel dazed. As for counting the money, it was out of the question. Idiotically I began to arrange the counters in little piles....

'35' turned up.

"That's right," said Berry quietly. "And now... It's really very monotonous, but..."

With a shrug of his shoulders, he set the limit on 'Zero.'

I held my breath....

The ball ceased to rattle—began to fall—ricochetted from stud to stud—tumbled into the wheel—nosed '32'—and ... fell with a click into '0.'

Berry spread out his hands.

"I tell you," he said, "it's too easy.... And now, again."

"Don't!" cried Daphne. "Don't! I beg you——"

"My darling," said Berry, "after to-night—No. Leave the stake, please—I'll never play again. This evening—well, the money's there, and we may as well have it, mayn't we? I mean, it isn't as if I hadn't been given the tip. From the moment I woke this morning—— Listen, dear. Don't bother about the wheel—the lady's been hammering away. You must admit, she's done the job thoroughly. First the intuition: then the wherewithal: then, what to back. I should be a bottle-nosed mug if I didn't——"

"Zero."

Upon the explosion of excitement which greeted the astounding event, patrons of the Baccarat Table and of the other Roulette Wheel left their seats and came crowding open-mouthed to see what was toward. Complete strangers were chattering like old friends. Gibbering with emotion, the Spanish Jew was dramatically recounting what had occurred. The Dutchman was sitting back, laughing boisterously. The Frenchmen were waving and crying, "Vive l'Angleterre." Jonah was shouting as though he had been in the hunting field. Adele and Jill were beating upon the table.

Berry bowed his acknowledgments.

As in a dream, I watched them send for more money.

When it arrived, they gave me four hundred and ninety pounds.

"Hagan juego, Senores."

Berry shook his head.

"Not this time," he said quietly.

He was right. After a look at '0' the ball ran with a click into '15.'

A long sigh of relief followed its settlement.

"You see?" said Berry, picking up fourteen pounds....

"Don't," I said weakly. "Don't. I can't bear it. The board's bewitched. If it turns up again, I shall collapse."

"You mean that?" said Berry, putting the money on.

"No va mas."

"I do. My heart——"

"Then say your prayers," said my brother-in-law. "For, as I live, that ball's going to pick out——"

"Zero."

I never remember such a scene.

Everybody in the room seemed to be shouting. I know I was. Respectable Spaniards stamped upon the floor like bulls. The Frenchmen, who with Berry and several others had backed the winner, were clasping one another and singing the Marseillaise. The beautifully dressed American was wringing Adele's hand. The old gentleman in the blue suit was on his feet and appeared to be making a speech. The Spanish girl was standing upon her chair waving a handkerchief....

In vain the smiling croupiers appealed for order....

As the tumult subsided—

"Seven times in ten spins," said Berry. "Well, I think that'll do. We'll just run up the board on the even chances...."

There was no holding him.

Before I knew where I was, he had set twelve thousand pesetas apiece on 'RED,' 'ODD,' and 'UNDER 19.'

Some fourteen hundred pounds on a single spin.

I covered my eyes ...

As the ball began to lose way, the hush was awful....

"Siete (seven)," announced the spokesman.

With my brain whirling, I sought to garner the harvest....

My brother-in-law rose to his feet.

"One last throw," he said. "'PASSE' for 'The Poor.'"

He leaned forward and put the maximum on 'OVER 18.'

A moment later, counter by counter, four hundred and seventy pounds went into the poor-box.

As I pushed back my chair, I glanced at my watch.

In exactly sixteen minutes Berry had stung 'the Bank' to the tune of—as near as I could make it—four thousand nine hundred and ninety-five pounds.

* * * * *

Some ten hours later we slipped out of San Sebastian and on to the famous road which leads to Biarritz. Berry, Daphne, and Jill were in one car, and Adele and I were in the other. Jonah and Zed were to travel together by train. It was improbable that they would leave for Pau before the morrow.

As we climbed out of Behobie, we took our last look at Spain, that realm of majestic distances and superb backgrounds....

You may peer into the face of France and find it lovely; the more you magnify an English landscape, the richer it will become; but to find the whole beauty of Spain, a man must stand back and lift up his eyes.

Now that we had left it behind, the pride and grandeur of the scenery beggared description. It was as though for days we had been looking upon a mighty canvas, and while we had caught something of its splendour, now for the first time had we focussed it aright. The memory we took away was that of a masterpiece.

Anxious to be home in time for luncheon, I laid hold of the wheel....

We whipped through St. Jean de Luz, sang through Bidart, and hobbled over a fearful stretch of metalling into Bayonne....

As we were nearing Bidache—

"How much," said Adele suddenly, "is Berry actually up?"

"Allowing for everything," said I, "that is, his losses, what he gave to the poor, and the various rates of exchange, about two hundred and forty thousand francs."

"Not so dusty," said Adele thoughtfully. "All the same——"

A report like that of a gun blew the sentence to blazes.

Heavily I took the car in to the side of the road....

A second tire went upon the outskirts of Pau.

Happily we had two spare wheels....

As I was wearily resuming my seat, Berry, Daphne, and Jill went by with a cheer.

Slowly we followed them into the town....

It was not until we were stealing up our own villa's drive that at length I remembered the question which for over an hour I had been meaning to put to my wife.

As I brought the car to a standstill—

"What was it," I demanded, "that you had begun to say when we had the first burst near Bidache? We were talking about how much Berry was up, and you said——"