ive me tea. Now, my boss, bein' a Frenchy,
won't touch eether--wine an' corfee are his specials."

"He seemed to be enjoying his tea when I caught sight of him in the
garden a little while ago," said Medenham.

"That's his artfulness, my boy. You wait a bit. You'll see something
before you reach Bristol to-night; anyway, you'll hear something,
which amounts to pretty much the same in the end."

"They're just off to the caves," put in the girl.

"While Mrs. Devar writes her postcards, I suppose?" said Medenham
innocently.

"What! Is that the old party with the hair? I thought she was the
young lady's mother. She's gone with them. She looks that sort of
meddler--not half. Two's company an' three's none is my motto, cave
or no cave."

She tried her most bewitching smile on Medenham this time. It was a
novel experience to be the recipient of a serving-maid's marked favor,
and it embarrassed him. Smith, his mouth full of currant bun,
spluttered with laughter.

"A fair offer," he cried. "You two dodge outside and see which cave
the aristocracy chooses. Then you can take a turn round the other one.
I'll watch the cars all right."

The girl suddenly blushed and looked demure. A sweet voice said
quietly:

"We shall remain here half an hour or more, Fitzroy. I thought I
would tell you in case you wished to smoke--or occupy your time in any
other way."

The pause was eloquent: Cynthia had heard.

"Thank you, Miss Vanrenen," he said, affecting to glance at his watch.

He felt thoroughly nonplussed. She would surely think he had been
flirting with this rosy-cheeked servant, and he might never have an
opportunity of telling her that his sole reason for encouraging the
conversation lay in his anxiety to learn as much as possible about
Marigny and his associates.

"My, ain't she smart!" said the girl when Cynthia had gone.

Medenham put his hand in his pocket and gave her half-a-crown.

"They have forgotten to tip you, Gertie," he said. Without heeding a
stare of astonishment strongly tinctured with indignation, he stooped
in unnecessary scrutiny of the Mercury's tires. The minx tossed her
head.

"Some folks are as grand as their missuses," she remarked, and went
back to her garden.

But Smith looked puzzled. Medenham, no good actor at any time, had
dropped too quickly the air of camaraderie which had been a successful
passport hitherto. His voice, his manner, the courtly insolence of
the maid's dismissal, evoke