well-worn crease.

"Hello, mater!" he exclaimed. "But what's up? Why are you--where is
Marigny?"

"Miles away--the silly man ran short of petrol. Fortunately our car
came to the rescue, or it would have been most awkward, since Miss
Vanrenen was with the Count at the time. Cynthia, you have not met my
son. James, this is Miss Vanrenen."

The little man danced forward. Like all short and stout mortals, he
was nimble on his feet, and his mother's voluble outburst warned him
of an unforeseen hitch in the arrangements.

"Delighted, I'm shaw," said he. "But, by gad, fancy losing poo-aw
Eddie! What have you done with him? Dwiven a stake through him and
buwied him at a cwoss woad?"

Medenham dreaded that the too-faithful Simmonds, car and all, would be
found awaiting their arrival, and it was a decided relief when the
only automobile in sight proved to be the state equipage of some local
magnate dining at the hotel. Cynthia, apparently, had shared his
thoughts so far as they concerned Simmonds.

"I suppose your friend Simmonds will reveal his whereabouts during the
evening," she said, while disencumbering herself of her wraps. Mrs.
Devar had already alighted, but the girl was standing in the car and
spoke over Medenham's shoulder.

"Of course, he may not be here," was the answer, not given too loudly,
since Mrs. Devar had hastened to give details to the perplexed James,
and there was no need to let either of them overhear his words.

"Oh my! What will happen, then?"

"In that event, I should feel compelled to take his place again."

"But the compulsion, as you put it, tends rather to take you to
London."

"I have changed my mind, Miss Vanrenen," he said simply.

She tittered. There was just a spice of coquetry in her manner as she
stooped nearer.

"You believe that Simmonds would not have found me in that wretched
lane to-night," she whispered.

"I am quite sure of it."

"But the whole affair was a mere stupid error."

"I am only too glad that I was enabled to put it right," he said with
due gravity.

"Cynthia," came a shrill voice, "do make haste, I am positively
starving."

"Guess you'd better lose Simmonds," breathed the girl, and an
unaccountable fluttering of her heart induced a remarkably high color
in her cheeks when she sped up the steps of the hotel and entered the
brilliantly-lighted atrium.

As for Medenham, though he had carefully mapped out the exact line of
conduct to be followed in B