e I was now following down the picturesque old
street to the hotel. Talleyrand was in attendance again, and she had
merely to say that the car was to be ready for start to Amboise after
luncheon. Accordingly I stepped over to my own private lair, told Almond
to get off at once with my Napier to Amboise, putting up at a hotel I
named and awaiting instructions.

Have you begun to think there's to be no end to this letter? Well, I
shall try to whet your curiosity for what's still to come by saying that
I have availed myself of a strange blank interval in the middle of the
night for the writing of it, and that dawn can't now be far off. When
it breaks this adventure of mine will have reached a crisis--a
distinctly new development. But enough of hints.

This country of the Loire is exquisite; it has both grandeur and simple
beauty, and the road winding above the river is practically level and in
splendid condition; ideal for motors and "hay-motors." The distance
between the good town of Blois and Amboise is less than twenty miles.
Any decent-minded motor would whistle along from the great grey Chateau
to the brilliant cream-white one under the hour, but that isn't the way
of our Demon.

Miss Randolph once said that owning a motor-car was like having a
half-tamed dragon in the family. She is quite right about _her_
motor-car, poor child! The Demon had been behaving somewhat less
fiendishly of late, and I had hopes of a successful run to Amboise,
which I particularly desired, as Eyelashes was to accompany us with his
Pieper. But this good conduct had been no more than a trick.

The luggage was loaded up; Talleyrand was making himself officious about
helping the ladies, who were in the courtyard ready to mount, when the
motor took it into its vile head not to start--a little attack of
faintness, owing to the petrol being cold perhaps. Of course, there was
the usual crowd of hotel servants and loafers to see us off, and beyond,
standing as interested spectators on the steps, who but Jabez Barrow and
his handsome daughter.

I tell you the perspiration decorated my forehead in beads when I'd
made a dozen fruitless efforts to start that family dragon, Eyelashes
maddening me the while with a series of idiotic suggestions. Even Miss
Randolph began to get a little nervous, and called out to me, "What
_can_ be the matter, Brown? I thought you were such a _strong_ man too.
Do let Monsieur Talleyrand try, as he's an expert."

I co