pping. A slight breeze had sprung up, the cold was
intense.

"Cheerful sort of place, this," Lane remarked gloomily. "Shall we make a
start?"

Hunterleys hesitated.

"Not just yet. Look!"

He pointed downwards. For a moment the clouds had parted. Thousands of
feet below, like little pinpricks of red fire, they saw the lights of
Monte Carlo. Almost as they looked, the clouds closed up again. It was
as though they had peered into another world.

"Jove, that was queer!" Lane muttered. "Look! What's that?"

A long ray of sickly yellow light shone for a moment and was then
suddenly blotted out by a rolling mass of vapour. The clouds had closed
in again once more. The obscurity was denser than ever.

"The lighthouse," Hunterleys replied. "Do you think it's any use
waiting?"

"We'll go inside and put on our coats," Lane suggested. "My car is by
the side of the avenue there. I covered it over and left it."

They found their coats in the hall, wrapped themselves up and lit
cigarettes. Already many of the cars had started and vanished cautiously
into obscurity. Every now and then one could hear the tooting of their
horns from far away below. The chief steward was directing the
departures and insisting upon an interval of three minutes between each.
The two men stood on one side and watched him. He was holding open the
door of a large, exceptionally handsome car. On the other side was a
servant in white livery. Lane gripped his companion's arm.

"There she goes!" he exclaimed.

The girl, followed by Mr. Grex, stepped into the landaulette, which was
brilliantly illuminated inside with electric light. Almost immediately
the car glided noiselessly off. The two men watched it until it
disappeared. Then they crossed the road.

"Now then, Sir Henry," Richard observed grimly, as he turned the handle
of the car and they took their places in the little well-shaped space,
"better say your prayers. I'm going to drive slowly enough but it's an
awful job, this, crawling down the side of a mountain in the dark, with
nothing between you and eternity but your brakes."

They crept off. As far as the first turn the lights from the club-house
helped them. Immediately afterwards, however, the obscurity was
enveloping. Their faces were wet and shiny with moisture. Even the
fingers of Lane's gloves which gripped the wheel were sodden. He
proceeded at a snail's pace, keeping always on the inside of the road
and only a few inches from th