k of cigars with the poor remedy of cigarettes, he employed
his time profitably in tying a series of double knots upon the line of
rope. Then at last, when he could see the stars bright above the trees
and hear no sound in the house, he pulled his bed softly to the open
window, and to it fastened one end of his rope securely. The other he
quietly let drop, and losing not an instant followed it hand under
hand, murmuring anathemas on the rough wall that so scraped his evening
trousers.

On tiptoe he stole to the door through which the bicycle had gone. It
yielded to a push, and once inside he ventured to strike a match.

"By Gad! I've a choice of half a dozen," he exclaimed.

It need scarcely be said that he selected the best; and after slitting
with his pocket-knife the tires of all the others, he mounted and
pedalled quietly down the drive. The lodge gates stood open; the road, a
trifle muddy but clear of all traffic, stretched visible for a long way
in the starlight; the breeze blew fair behind him.

"May Providence guide me to the station," he prayed, and rode off into
the night.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Suppose the clock be set back four-and-twenty hours, and behold now the
Baron von Blitzenberg, the diplomatist and premier baron of Bavaria,
engaged in unhappy argument with himself. Unhappy, because his reason,
though so carefully trained from the kindergarten upward, proved unable
to combat the dismal onsets of superstition.

"Pooh! who cares for an old picture?" Reason would reiterate.

"It is an omen," said Superstition simply; and Reason stood convicted as
an empty braggart.

But if Time be the great healer, Dinner is at least a clever quack, and
when he and old Mr. Rentoul had consumed well-nigh a bottle and a half
of their host's port between them, the outlook became much less gloomy.
A particularly hilarious evening in the drawing-room completed the
triumph of mind over what he was now able to term "jost nonsense,"
and he slept that night as soundly as the Count was simultaneously
slumbering in Sir Justin's bed-room. And there was no unpleasant
awakening in the Baron's case. On the contrary, all nature seemed in a
conspiracy to make the last day of his adventure pleasant. The sun shone
brightly, his razors had an excellent edge, sausages were served for
breakfast, and when he joined the family afterwards he found them as
affectionately kind as a circle of relations. In fact, the Baron had
dropped more