e quickly driven
through the pines and out upon the sea-road until, when on the railed
esplanade at St. Addresse, the car pulled up suddenly at some steps
which led down to the sands.

Just before he did so his lordship, addressing Jean, said:

"I know you will excuse me staying with you this morning, dear, but I
must attend to those despatches Martin has brought. And they will
certainly take me till luncheon. So I will see you down to the beach and
then go back. The car shall come for you at half-past twelve."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Jean, regretfully. "But I know, dear, how
worried you are. So I'll forgive you. I shall spend a quiet morning with
a book, and Enid will enjoy herself."

Then the car stopped, he got out, helped Enid and Miss Oliver down, and
then gave his hand to Jean, who, with her dark cloak thrown over her
white dress, looked extremely dainty, and much younger than her years.

While the car waited for them, all four descended to the beach, where
little Enid with her governess went forward, while Bracondale and his
wife walked along to a secluded corner in the rocks, where it was Jean's
habit to read while awaiting her little girl.

Then, after he had seen her comfortably settled in the shadow, for the
sun was hot, he lit a cigarette and strolled back to where the car
awaited him, absorbed in the international problem which had, according
to Charlton, so suddenly arisen.

As he sat in the car and was whirled along the sea-front towards
Monplaisir, he passed a clean-shaven, well-dressed man in a dark suit
with carefully-ironed trousers, his handkerchief showing from his jacket
pocket, patent leather boots, grey spats, and a light grey Tyrolese hat.
The stranger gave him a curious, inquisitive glance as he passed, then,
looking after him, muttered some words beneath his breath.

The idler stood and watched the car disappear in the dust along the
wide, straight road, and then he walked to the steps over which Jean had
passed and followed in her footsteps.

As a matter of fact, this was not the first occasion upon which the
stranger had watched her ladyship.

On the previous day he had been passing along a street in Havre when a
big red car had passed, and in it was her ladyship with little Lady
Enid.

In a second, on looking up suddenly, he had recognised her.

But she had not seen him. At the moment she had been bending towards the
child, buttoning up her coat.

The stranger, who had onl