orgette and a large Leghorn hat, apparently
arguing with three blue-covered mechanics. From Pong's off-side window
the conical hat and extravagant ruff of 'Pierrette' were protruding
excitedly.

My companions' relief to see me again was unfeigned.

As I came up, Adele gave a whimper of delight, and a moment later she
was pouring her tale into my ears.

"You hadn't been gone long when these people came by. We stopped them,
of course, and----"

"One moment," said I. "Have they got any petrol?"

"Listen," said Berry. "Four _bidons_ of what they had are in our tank.
It was when they were in, that we found we hadn't a bean. That didn't
matter. The gents were perfectly happy to take my address. A pencil
was produced--we had nothing, of course--and I started to write it all
down on the edge of yesterday's _Le Temps_. They all looked over my
shoulder. As I was writing, I _felt_ their manner change. I stopped
and looked round. _The fools were staring at me as if I were risen
from the dead_. That mayn't surprise you, but it did me, because we'd
got through that phase. For a moment we looked at one another. Then
one picked up the paper and took off his hat. 'It is unnecessary,' he
said, 'for _Monsieur_ to give us his name. We know it perfectly.' The
others nodded agreement. I tell you, I thought they'd gone mad...."

He pushed his hat back from his eyes and sat down on the step.

"But--but what's the trouble?" I gasped.

Berry threw out his hands.

"Haven't you got it?" he said. "_They think I'm Sycamore Tight._"

* * * * *

I soon perceived the vanity of argument.

With my brother-in-law in the hand and fifty thousand francs in the
bush, the three mechanics were inexorable.

They accepted my statements; they saw my point of view; they uncovered;
they bowed; they laughed when I laughed; they admitted the possibility,
nay, likelihood of a mistake; they deplored the inconvenience we were
suffering. But, politely and firmly, they insisted that Berry should
enter their car and accompany them to Lourdes.

That this their demand should be met was not to be thought of.

Adele and I could not desert Berry; from the police at Lourdes nothing
was to be expected but suspicion, hostility, and maddeningly officious
delays; Berry's eventual release would only be obtained at a cost of
such publicity as made my head swim.

Any idea of force was out of the question. But for the pres