t
home--which is quite true, judging from the complaints I hear from
motor-men."

"But look here; you let me in for this. What I did was on the spur of
the moment, and in self-defence. I didn't dream then that I should be,
first cornered by you, then led on by circumstances into engaging as
chauffeur, to drive my own car on such a wild-goose chase."

"It's a wild goose that will lay golden eggs. Fifteen guineas a day, my
son; that's the size of the egg which that beneficent bird will drop
into your palm every twenty-four hours. Deduct the ladies' hotel
expenses--say three guineas a day; expenses for yourself and car we'll
call two guineas more (of course I pay my own way), that leaves you as
profit ten guineas daily; seventy guineas a week, or at the rate of
three thousand five hundred guineas per annum. Before you'd spent your
little patrimony, and been refused an--er--fratrimony, you weren't half
as well off as that. You might do worse than pass your whole life as a
Personal Conductor on those terms. And instead of thanking the wise
friend who has caught this goose for you, and is willing to leave his
own peaceful duck for your sake, with no remuneration, you abuse him."

"My dear fellow, I'm not exactly abusing you, for I know you meant well.
But you've swept me off my feet, and I'm not at home yet in mid air."

"You can lie on your back and roll in gold in the intervals of driving
the car. I promise not to give you away. Still, it's a pity you wouldn't
consent to trading a little on your title, which Heaven must have given
you for some good purpose. As it is, you've made my tuppenny-ha'penny
baronetcy the only bait, and that's no catch at all for an American
millionairess, fishing for something big in Aristocracy Pond. Why, when
that Prince of hers discovers what is doing, he will persuade the fair
Countess Dalmar that she's paying a high price for a Nobody--a
Nobody-at-All."

"What makes you think he doesn't know already, as he evidently followed
the party here, and must be constantly dangling about?"

"My detective instinct, which two seasons of pink journalism has
developed. Mrs. Kidder saw the advertisement this morning, and was
caught by it. May Sherlock Holmes cut me in the street if Prince
Dalmar-Kalm hasn't been away for the day, doubtless at Monte Carlo where
he has lost most of his own money, and will send the Countess's to find
it, if she gives him the chance."

"I never saw the fellow, or heard o