s, and everybody was told off to perform some task or
other: one to sweep, one to dust, one to change the bedding.

In self-defence we hurried off for our walk, leaving the unpacking for
later, and Sir Ralph proposed that we should find the machine shop where
the Chauffeulier was working.

We asked the way of a good many people, all of whom gave us different
directions, and at last arrived at a building which looked as if it
might be the right place. But there was Joseph pounding and mumbling to
himself, and no Mr. Barrymore.

In common humanity we stopped for a few words, and Joseph mistook our
inch of sympathy for an ell. Almost with tears he told us the history
of his day, and choked with rage at the prospect of the long task before
him. "What is it to His Highness that I lose a night's sleep?" he
demanded of a red-hot bar which he brandished at arm's length. "Less
than nothing, since he will sleep, believing that all will be ready for
him in the morning. But his dreams would be less calm if he knew what I
know."

"What do you know, Joseph?" asked Sir Ralph, edging nearer to the door.

"That the water-power will be shut off at eleven o'clock, the lathes
will no longer turn, and I can do nothing more till to-morrow morning at
six, which means that we will not get away till noon."

"By Jove, that's a bad look-out for us, too," said Sir Ralph, when we
had escaped from Joseph. "I suppose things will be the same at Terry's
place. What a den for you to be delayed in! But I've an idea the Prince
means to sneak quietly off to Alessandria, and will expect Joseph to
meet him there to-morrow morning. My prophetic soul divined as much from
his thoughtful air as we discussed our quarters."

It was almost dark when we found the other machine shop, at the end of a
long straight road with a brook running down it, and trees walking
beside it, straight and tall. It was a wonderful, luminous kind of
darkness, though, that hadn't forgotten the sunset, and the white
mountains were great banks of roses against a skyful of fading violets.
But the minute we stepped inside the machine shop, which was lighted up
by the red fire of a forge, night seemed suddenly to fall like a black
curtain, shutting down outside the open door and windows.

Two or three men were moving about the place, weedy little fellows; and
Mr. Barrymore was like a giant among them, a splendid giant, handsomer
than ever in a workman's blouse of blue linen, open at