us their shelter, hill-tops their sweet prospects,
hamlets their quiet content.

An amazing sundown set our cup brimming.

That this might run over, Bidache itself gave us a chateau--ruined,
desolate, and superb. There is a stateliness of which Death holds the
patent: and then, again, Time can be kind to the dead. What Death had
given, Time had magnified. Years had added to the grey walls a peace,
a dignity, a charm, such as they never knew while they were kept. The
grave beauty of the place was haunting. We passed on reluctantly....

A quarter of an hour later we ran into Peyrehorade.

Here Adele relieved my brother-in-law and, encouraged by the promise of
a late tea, made the most of the daylight.

Eighty minutes later we slid into Pau.

As we swept up the drive of our villa--

"Well," said Berry, "I must confess it's been a successful day. If
we'd lunched with Evelyn, we should have missed that venison, and if
the main road hadn't been vile, we should have missed Bidache. Indeed,
provided no anti-climax is furnished by the temperature of the
bath-water, I think we may congratulate ourselves."

Adele and I agreed enthusiastically.

Falcon met us in the hall with a note and a telephone message.

The first was from Mrs. Swetecote.

_DEAREST DAPHNE,_

_How awful of you! Never mind. I know how terribly easy it is to
forget. And now you must come over to us instead. Falcon insisted
that you would wish us to have lunch, so we did--a jolly good one, too.
And Jack smoked one of Berry's cigars, and, of course, we both lost our
hearts to Nobby. In fact, we made ourselves thoroughly at home._

_Your loving
EVELYN._

_P.S.--Try and find out who's staying at Pau with a blue all-weather
coupe. They went by us to-day like a flash of lightning. Fortunately
we were going dead slow, so it was all right. But they ought to be
stopped._

The second was from Jonah.

As rendered by Falcon, it ran:--

"Captain Mansel's compliments, sir, and, as Mrs. Adele Pleydell was the
last to drive Ping, 'e thinks _she must 'ave 'is key_.... And as
Love's the honly thing as laughs at locksmiths, sir, will you kindly
return this forthwith.... I asked Captain Mansel where 'e'd like you
to meet 'im, sir, but 'e said _you'd_ know."

From Pau to La Barre is seventy miles--as near as 'damn it.'

* * * * *

I covered the distance alone. All the way a memory kept whispering
abo