youth, "what the 'ell time did I tell
you to have that car cleaned by, and you not begun it!"

Pointing to the clock, he lounged magnificently to and fro, spreading smoke
around the intimidated and now industrious youth. The next second he caught
sight of Audrey, and transformed himself instantaneously into what she had
hitherto imagined a chauffeur always was; but in those few moments she had
learnt that the essence of a chauffeur is godlike, and that he toils not,
neither does he swab.

"Good morning, madam," in a soft, courtly voice.

"Good morning."

"Were you wanting the car, madam?"

She was not, but the suggestion gave her an idea.

"Can we take it as it is?"

"Yes, madam. I'll just look at the petrol gauge ... But ... I haven't had
my breakfast, madam."

"What time do you have it?"

"Well, madam, when you have yours."

"That's all right, then. You've got hours yet. I want you to take me to
Flank Hall."

"Flank Hall, madam?" His tone expressed the fact that his mind was a blank
as to Flank Hall.

As soon as Audrey had comprehended that the situation of Flank Hall was not
necessarily known to every chauffeur in England, and that a stay of one
night in Frinton might not have been enough to familiarise this particular
one with the geography of the entire district, she replied that she would
direct him.

They were held up by a train at the railway crossing, and a milk-cart and a
young pedestrian were also held up. When Audrey identified the pedestrian
she wished momentarily that she had not set out on the expedition. Then she
said to herself that really it did not matter, and why should she be
afraid... etc., etc. The pedestrian was Musa. In French they greeted each
other stiffly, like distant acquaintances, and the train thundered past.

"I was taking the air, simply, Madame," said Musa, with his ingenuous shy
smile.

"Take it in my car," said Audrey with a sudden resolve. "In one hour at
the latest we shall have returned."

She had a great deal to say to him and a great deal to listen to, and there
could not possibly be any occasion equal to the present, which was ideal.

He got in; the chauffeur manoeuvred to oust the milk-cart from its rightful
precedence, the gates opened, and the car swung at gathering speed into the
well-remembered road to Moze. And the two passengers said nothing to each
other of the slightest import. Musa's escape from Paris was between them;
the unimaginable episode a