cumstances, when, "sole, like a falling
star," the motor "shot through the pillared town" with me on board.

There had been a time when I shrank from the name of the car's giver,
believing that Molly thrust it too obviously into notice. When "that
dear girl Mercedes" had threatened to enter our conversations I had
often kept her out by force; but now it seemed that I, not she, was
the intruder, and in a far more material way. This was, perhaps,
poetical justice, but I did not grudge it, since it was evident that
Molly no longer cherished the intention of dangling her friend the
heiress before me like a brilliant fly over the nose of an impecunious
trout. On the contrary, she warned me off the premises. We were to
hurry down to Monte Carlo as quickly as possible, that the situation
might not be overstrained. Mercedes in the tonneau, I in the front
seat, were to live and let live during the rapid journey, and this was
well.

I dimly remembered that, in the first days of our journey in search of
a mule, Molly had vaunted her friend's beauty, but the silver-grey
mushroom prevented me from verifying or disproving this statement. The
small, triangular talc window was greyly-opaque, or else there was a
grey veil underneath; my one glance had not told me which, and I
neither dared nor desired to steal another.

Jack supplied the blanks in our somewhat broken correspondence, by
skimming over the details of their doings; how they had spent most of
their time since our parting in Switzerland; how they had arrived at
Aix-les-Bains the very morning we left for Mont Revard; and how they
had motored to Chambery yesterday afternoon.

"Think of my being in the same town with you for more than twelve
hours, and not knowing it!" I exclaimed. "To borrow an expression of
Mrs. Winston's, I was jolly 'low in my mind' last night, and the very
thought that you two were close by would have been cheering."

I had not dared address myself to Molly in the other camp, but
evidently all communication between the lines was not to be broken
off. The wind must have carried my words to her ear, for she bent
forward, leaning her arm on the back of our seat.

"Did you say you were miserable last night?" she inquired with
flattering eagerness.

"Yes. Awfully miserable."

"Poor Lord Lane! I haven't understood yet exactly why you suddenly
gave up your walking tour, and got the idea of going on by rail. I
thought from your letters you were having suc