escape, and he had formed a
sufficiently shrewd estimate of the relations between his master and
the remarkably good-looking young lady whom the said master was
serving with exemplary diligence to fear dire consequences to himself
if he became the direct cause of a broken idyl. The position was even
worse if he fell back on an artistic lie. The Earl was a dour person
where servants were concerned, and Salome did not demand John the
Baptist's head on a salver with greater gusto than the autocrat of
Fairholme would insist on Dale's dismissal when he discovered the
facts. Talk of the horned dilemma--here was an unfortunate asked to
choose which bristle of a porcupine he would sit upon.

The mere presence of his lordship in Bristol betokened a social
atmosphere charged with electricity--a phase of the problem that
constituted the only clear item in Dale's seething brain: it was too
much for him; in sudden desperation he determined to stick to the
plain truth.

He had to elect very quickly, for the peppery-tempered Earl would not
brook delay.

"Not gone to London, you say? Then where the devil _has_ he gone to?
A gentleman at the hotel, a French gentleman, who said he had met
these--these persons with whom my son is gadding about the country,
told me that they had left Bristol this morning for London, because a
car that was expected to meet them here had broken down."

Suddenly his lordship, a county magistrate noted for his sharpness,
glanced at Simmonds. He marched round to the front of the car and saw
that it was registered in London. He waved an accusing umbrella in
air.

"What car is this? Is this the motor that won't go? It seems to have
reached Bristol all right? Now, my men, I must have a candid tale from
each of you, or the consequences may be most disagreeable. You, I
presume," and he lunged _en tierce_ at Simmonds, "have an employer of
some sort, and I shall make it my business----"

"This is my own car, my lord," said Simmonds stiffly. He could be
stubborn as any member of the Upper House when occasion served. "Your
lordship needn't use any threats. Just ask me what you like an' I'll
answer, if I can."

Fairholme, by no means a hasty man in the ordinary affairs of life,
and only upset now by the unforeseen annoyances of an unusually
disquieting mission, realized that he was losing caste. It was a novel
experience to be rebuked by a chauffeur, but he had the sense to
swallow his wrath.

"Perhaps I ough