uiries. To save any further mix-up, you had better come with me to
Symon's Yat."

Within five minutes he ascertained that Count Edouard Marigny had
occupied a room in the Mitre Hotel, just across the street, since the
previous afternoon. More than that, the Frenchman was traveling to
London by the same train as the Earl. Then Medenham felt really angry.
It was inconceivable that his father should have allowed himself to be
drawn into a pitiful intrigue by such doubtful agents as Marigny and
the Countess of Porthcawl.

"I'll write," he vowed, "and in pretty stiff terms, too, but I'm
jiggered if I'll wire. The old chap should have shown more confidence
in me. Why on earth didn't he announce his visit to Bristol? Jolly
good job he left Hereford to-day before I arrived--there might have
been ructions. Good Lord! He evidently takes Cynthia for an
adventuress!"

Yet, in spite of the chance of ructions, it would have been far better
had Medenham not missed his father that morning. He was too dutiful a
son, the Earl was too fair-minded a parent, that they should not be
able to meet and discuss matters without heat. By noon they would have
reached Symon's Yat; before lunch was ended the older man would have
been Cynthia's most outspoken admirer. As it was--well, as it
was--there used to be a belief in the Middle Ages that the Evil One's
favorite nook lay amid the deepest shadow of a cathedral, and modern
fact is ofttimes curiously akin to medieval romance.

CHAPTER XI

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

When he came to think of it, Medenham decided to return at once to
Symon's Yat. It was advisable, however, to inform the proprietor of
the hotel that the Earl's denunciation of Dale as a pilferer of
luggage was based on a complete misunderstanding of the facts. With
that object in view he entered the office; another surprise awaited
him there.

A lady bookkeeper, casting an appraising eye over his motoring
garments, asked instantly:

"Are you Mr. Fitzroy, driver of a Mercury car, Number X L 4000?"

"Yes," said he, prepared now to see his name and description blazoned
across the west front of the cathedral.

"You are wanted on the telephone. Miss Vanrenen wishes you to ring her
up."

After a soul-chastening delay he heard Cynthia's voice:

"That you, Mr. Fitzroy?"

"Yes."

"I'm so glad I caught you before you hurried away again.... Er--that
is--I suppose you traveled rather fast, you and Mercury?"

He laughed.