well, you bet."

To pass from the stable yard to the garden it was not necessary to
enter the hotel. A short path, shaded by trellis-laden creepers and
climbing roses, led to a rustic bridge over the stream. When Medenham
had gone halfway he saw the two women sitting with Marigny at a table
placed well apart from other groups of tea-drinkers. They were talking
animatedly, the Count smiling and profuse of gesture, while Cynthia
listened with interest to what was seemingly a convincing statement
of the fortunate hazard that led to his appearance at Cheddar. The
Frenchman was too skilled a stalker of shy game to pretend a second
time that the meeting was accidental.

Mrs. Devar's shrill accents traveled clearly across the lawn.

"Just fancy that ... finding James at Bath, and persuading him to come
to Bristol on the chance that we might all dine together to-night!
Naughty boy he is--why didn't he run out here in your car?"

Count Edouard said something.

"Business!" she cackled, "I am glad to hear of it. James is too much
of a gad-about to earn money, but people are always asking him to
their houses. He is a _dear_ fellow. I am sure you will like him,
Cynthia."

Medenham had heard enough. He noted that the table was gay with cut
flowers, and a neat waitress had evidently been detailed by the
management to look after these distinguished guests; Marigny's stage
setting for his first decisive move was undoubtedly well contrived. It
was delightfully pastoral--a charming bit of rural England--and, as
such, eminently calculated to impress an American visitor.

Cynthia poured out a cup of tea, heaped a plate with cakes and bread
and butter, and gave some instructions to the waitress. Medenham knew
what that meant. He hurried back by the way he had come, and found
that Marigny's chauffeur had lifted the bonnet off the Mercury.

"More I see of this engine the more I like it--What's your h.p.?"
asked the man, who clearly regarded the Mercury's driver as a brother
in the craft.

"38."

"Looks a sixty, every inch. I wonder if you could hold my car at
Brooklands?"

"Perhaps not, but I may give you some dust to swallow over the
Mendips."

The chauffeur grinned.

"Of course you'd say that, but it all depends on what the guv'nor
means to do. He's a dare-devil at the wheel, I can tell you, an'
never says a word to me when I let things rip. But he's up to some
game to-day. He's fair crazy about that girl you have in tow--