ised when, going up to the car, the very
first person I met was his lordship, with a cigar about seven inches
long in his mouth, and as pretty a smile above his long black beard as
I have seen this many a day.

"Well, my boy," says he, opening the door quite calmly and stepping
inside with no more concern than if I had just driven him from the
Carlton to Hyde Park Corner, "well, now I think we shall soon have
earned that extra ten-pound note. The next house is in
Hertfordshire--three miles from Potter's Bar, on the road to Five
Corners. Do you happen to know it, by the way?"

I could hardly answer him for amazement.

"But what about the Captain, sir," cried I.

"Oh," says he, "the Captain will never trouble me again. Now get up
and make haste. Is your back lamp all right? That's good--I
particularly wish all the policemen to get our number. Go right ahead
and stop for no one. It's a big house, I am told, and we cannot miss
it."

"But," cried I, "isn't it your lordship's house?"

He laughed, the merriest laugh in all the world.

"I was never there in my life," says he; "now get on, for heaven's
sake, or you'll have the morning here."

I hadn't a word for this, and, wondering whether I had gone dotty or
he, I let the Daimler out and drove straight up Baker Street, through
the Park and out on to the Finchley Road. The police have eyes all
round their heads for this track as a rule, but never a policeman do I
remember seeing that night, and we travelled forty-five an hour after
Barnet if we travelled a mile.

My directions, you will remember, had been to go straight through
Potter's Bar, and then on to a place called Five Corners--a locality I
had never heard of, well as I know Hertfordshire and the roads round
about. This I told his lordship as we slowed up in the village, and
his answer was surprising, for he told me to go to the police station
and to ask there. So I slowed up in Potter's Bar, and, seeing a
policeman, I asked him to direct me.

"Keep to the right and turn to the right again," says he, staring hard
at his lordship and at me. "That's Lord Crossborough's house, isn't
it?"

"Why, yes," says I, naturally enough, "and it's his lordship I am
driving."

He nodded pleasantly at this, and his lordship putting his head out of
the window at the moment, he spoke to him direct.

"Rather late to-night, my lord."

"Yes, yes, very late, and a driver who doesn't know the road. I am
much obli