s Bindo himself--Bindo in a light dust-coat and a soft
white felt hat of that type which is _de rigueur_ each season at Monty
among smartly-groomed men.

"Ewart!" he shouted frantically. "Ewart, it's me! Stop! stop!"

I put the brakes down as hard as I could without skidding, and brought
the car up suddenly, while he ran up breathlessly.

"You're through in good time. I was prepared to wait till daylight," he
said. "Everything all right?"

"Everything. The young lady's asleep, I think."

"No, she is not," came a voice in French from beneath the rugs. "What's
the matter? Who's that?"

"It's me, Pierrette," replied the handsome young adventurer, mounting
upon the step and looking within.

"You! Ah! Why--it's M'sieur Bellingham!" she cried excitedly, raising
herself and putting out her hand encased in one of my greasy old fur
gloves. "Were you waiting for us?"

"Of course I was. Didn't I tell you I would?" replied Bindo in French--a
language which he spoke with great fluency. "You got my telegram to say
that Ewart had started--eh? Well, how has the car been running--and how
has Ewart treated you?"

"He has treated me--well, as you say in your English, 'like a father'!"
she laughed merrily; "and, oh! I've had such a delightful ride."

"But you must be cold, little one," he said, patting her upon the
shoulder. "It's a long run from Paris to Nice, you know."

"I'm not tired," she assured him. "I've slept quite a lot. And M'sieur
Ewart has looked after me, and given me hot bouillon, coffee, eggs, and
all sorts of things--even to chocolates!"

"Ah! Ewart is a sad dog with the ladies, I'm afraid," he said in a
reproving tone, glancing at me. "But if you'll make room for me, and
give me a bit of your rug, I'll go on with you."

"Of course, my dear friend," she exclaimed, rising, throwing off the
rugs, and settling herself into the opposite corner, "you will come
along with us to Monte Carlo. Are those lights over there, on the right,
Nice?"

"They are, and beyond that lighthouse there, is Villefranche. Right
behind it lies Beaulieu."

And then, the pair having wrapped themselves up, we moved off again.

"Run along the Promenade des Anglais, and not through the Rue de France,
Ewart," ordered the Count. "Mademoiselle would like to see it, I
daresay, even at this hour."

So ten minutes later we turned out upon that broad, beautiful esplanade
which is one of the most noted in all the world, which is always
flowe