oo; and his
face changed to a disagreeable, ashy grey. At the same minute, when I
turned to Brown, it was _his_ eyes that glowed, but the light seemed to
come from inside.

I forget whether I ever told you that Brown is a very good-looking
fellow; too good-looking for a mere _chauffeur_. His face is like his
name--brown; his eyes are brown too, and they can almost speak. One
can't help noticing these things, even in one's _chauffeur_. If he
weren't a _chauffeur_, one might certainly take him for a gentleman.
Some things really are a pity! But never mind.

Brown looked at Monsieur Talleyrand, and then he said, "You are a liar."
Oh, my goodness, I expected murder!

Monsieur Talleyrand gave a sort of leap.

"Scoundrel, hog, _canaille_!" he stammered, trembling all over. "To be
insulted by an English cad, a common _chauffeur_, that a gentleman
cannot call out, an incendiary----"

But here Brown broke in with a "Silence!" that made me jump. And the
funny part was that it was _he_ who looked the gentleman, and Monsieur
Talleyrand the cad--quite a little, mean cad, though he is really
handsome, with eyelashes you'd have to measure with a tape. That awful
"Silence!" seemed to blow his words down his throat like a gust of wind,
and while he was getting breath Brown followed up his first shot; but
this time it was aimed my way.

"Do you believe what that coward says?" he flung at me, without even
taking hold of the words with "Miss" for a handle. Between the two men
and the excitement, I gasped instead of answering, and perhaps he took
silence for consent, though that is such an old-fashioned theory,
especially when it concerns girls. Anyway, he seemed to grow three or
four inches taller, and his chin got squarer. "So far from burning your
car," said he (and you could have made a block of ice out of each
word), "I have been to Amboise to hire a car for you, and thought I had
been lucky in securing my old master's.

"As this expedition has occupied the whole night. I have really had no
time for plotting, even if there had been a motive, or if I were the
sort of man for such work. I hoped you knew I wasn't. But there"--and he
pointed to the road outside the open gate--"is my master's car, and the
motor is still hot enough to prove----"

"I don't want it to prove," I found breath to exclaim. "Of course, I
know you didn't burn my car----"

"But if I say I saw him," cut in Monsieur Talleyrand.

"Pooh!" said I. It was the