antee you against any possible loss. To put the
best face on affairs, you had better remain in Bristol a few days at
my expense. Of course, it is understood that I deputize for you during
the remainder of the tour."

Simmonds, no courtier, grinned broadly, and even Dale winked at the
North Star; Medenham had steeled himself against such manifestations
of crude opinion--his face was impassive as that of a graven image.

"Of course I'll oblige you in that way, my lord. Who wouldn't?" came
the slow reply.

CHAPTER VII

WHEREIN CYNTHIA TAKES HER OWN LINE

When the Mercury, shining from Dale's attentions, halted noiselessly
opposite the College Green Hotel on the Saturday morning, Count
Edouard Marigny was standing there; the Du Vallon was not in evidence,
and its owner's attire bespoke other aims than motoring, at any rate
for the hour.

Evidently he was well content with himself. A straw hat was set on the
back of his head, a cigarette stuck between his lips, his hands were
thrust into his trousers pockets, and his feet were spread widely
apart. Taken altogether, he had the air of a man without a care in the
world.

He smiled, too, in the most friendly fashion, when Medenham's eyes met
his.

"I hear that Simmonds is unable to carry out his contract," he said
cheerfully.

"You are mistaken, a second time, monsieur," said Medenham.

"Why, then, are _you_ here this morning?"

"I am acting for Simmonds. If anything, my car is slightly superior to
his, while I may be regarded as an equally competent driver, so the
contract is kept in all essentials."

Marigny still smiled. The Frenchman of mid-Victorian romance would
have shelved this point by indulging in "an inimitable shrug"; but
nowadays Parisians of the Count's type do not shrug--with John Bull's
clothing they have adopted no small share of his stolidness.

"It is immaterial," he said. "I have sent my man to offer him my Du
Vallon, and Smith will go with him to explain its humors. You, as a
skilled motorist, understand that a car is of the feminine gender.
Like any other charming demoiselle, it demands the exercise of
tact--it yields willingly to gentle handling----"

Medenham cut short the Count's neatly turned phrases.

"Simmonds has no need to avail himself of your courtesy," he said. "As
for the rest, give me your address in Paris, and when next I visit the
French capital I shall be delighted to analyze these subtleties with
you."

"Ah, m