d vague memories in Smith's mind. The
square-shouldered, soldierly figure did not quite fit into the
picture, but he seemed to hear that same authoritative voice
speaking to Dale in the Brighton garage.

[Illustration: "You may occupy your time in any way you wish,
Fitzroy," said Cynthia. _Page 102_]

The conceit was absurd, of course. Chauffeurs do not swagger through
the world dressing for dinner each night and distributing gold in
their leisure moments. But Smith's bump of inquisitiveness was well
developed, as the phrenologists say, and he was already impressed by
the fact that no firm could afford to send out for hire a car like
Medenham's.

"Funny thing," he said at last. "I seem to have met you somewhere or
other. Who do you work for?"

"Myself."

Medenham caught the note of bewilderment, and was warned. He
straightened himself with a smile, though it cost him an effort to
look cheerful.

"Have a cigarette?" he said.

"Don't mind if I do. Thanks." Then, after a pause, and some puffing
and tasting: "Sorry, old man, but this baccy ain't my sort. It tastes
queer. What is it? Flor de Cabbagio? Here, take one of mine!"

Medenham, in chastened mood, accepted a "five a penny" cigarette, and
saw Smith throw away the exquisite brand that Sevastopolo, of Bond
Street, supplied to those customers only who knew the price paid by
connoisseurs for the leaf grown on one small hillside above the
sun-steeped bay of Salonika.

"Yes," he agreed, bravely poisoning the helpless atmosphere, "this is
better suited to the occasion."

"A bit of all right, eh? I can't stand the Count's cigarettes
eether--French rubbish, you know. An' the money they run into--well,
there!"

"But if he is a rich man----"

"Rich!" Smith exploded with merriment. "If he had what he owes he
might worry along for a year or so, but, you mark my words, if he
doesn't--Well, it's no business of mine, only just keep your eyes
open. You're going through with this tour?"

"I--believe so," said Medenham slowly--and thus he took the great
resolution which till that moment was dim in his mind.

"In that case we'll be having a jaw some other time, and then, mebbe,
we'll both be older an' wiser."

Notwithstanding the community of taste established by Smith's
weeds, the man was still furtively racking his brains to account for
certain discrepancies in his new acquaintance's bearing and address.
Medenham's hands, for instance, were t