was totally at a loss to know how it
could be done. My wily old man was ready with his advice the moment I
asked for it.

"Wherever the chaise stops, miss, we must drive past it as if we were
going somewhere else. I shall notice the place while we go by; and you
will please sit back in the corner of the cab so that the gentleman
can't see you."

"Well," I said, "and what next?"

"Next, miss, I shall pull up, wherever it may be, out of sight of the
driver of the chaise. He bears an excellent character, I don't deny it;
but I've known him for years--and we had better not trust him. I shall
tell you where the gentleman stopped; and you will go back to the place
(on foot, of course), and see for yourself what's to be done, specially
if there happens to be a lady in the case. No offense, miss; it's in my
experience that there's generally a lady in the case. Anyhow, you can
judge for yourself, and you'll know where to find me waiting when you
want me again."

"Suppose something happens," I suggested, "that we don't expect?"

"I shan't lose my head, miss, whatever happens."

"All very well, coachman; but I have only your word for it." In the
irritable state of my mind, the man's confident way of thinking annoyed
me.

"Begging your pardon, my young lady, you've got (if I may say so) what
they call a guarantee. When I was a young man, I drove a cab in London
for ten years. Will that do?"

"I suppose you mean," I answered, "that you have learned deceit in the
wicked ways of the great city."

He took this as a compliment. "Thank you, miss. That's it exactly."

After a long drive, or so it seemed to my impatience, we passed the
chaise drawn up at a lonely house, separated by a front garden from the
road. In two or three minutes more, we stopped where the road took a
turn, and descended to lower ground. The farmhouse which we had left
behind us was known to the driver. He led the way to a gate at the side
of the road, and opened it for me.

"In your place, miss," he said slyly, "the private way back is the way
I should wish to take. Try it by the fields. Turn to the right when
you have passed the barn, and you'll find yourself at the back of the
house." He stopped, and looked at his big silver watch. "Half-past
twelve," he said, "the Chawbacons--I mean the farmhouse servants,
miss--will be at their dinner. All in your favor, so far. If the dog
happens to be loose, don't forget that his name's Grinder; call him by
his