urled in quick
semicircle and climbed the hill to the left, while the Frenchman,
surprised by this rapid movement, signaled frantically to Mrs. Devar,
nodding farewell, that they had taken the wrong road.

"Not at all," explained Medenham. "I want you to see the Clifton
Suspension Bridge, which is a hundred feet higher in the air than the
Brooklyn Bridge."

"I'm sure it isn't," cried Cynthia indignantly. "The next thing you
will tell me is that the Thames is wider than the Hudson."

"So it is, at an equal distance from the sea."

"Well, trot out your bridge. Seeing is believing, all the time."

But Cynthia had yet to learn the exceeding wisdom of Ezekiel when he
wrote of those "which have eyes to see, and see not," for never was
optical delusion better contrived than the height above water level of
the fairylike structure that spans the Avon below Bristol. The reason
is not far to seek. The mind is not prepared for the imminence of the
swaying roadway that leaps from side to side of that tremendous gorge.
On either crest are pleasant gardens, pretty houses, tree-shaded
paths, and the opposing precipices are so prompt in their sheer fall
that the eye insensibly rests on the upper level and refuses to dwell
on the river far beneath.

So Cynthia was charmed but not convinced, and Medenham himself could
scarce believe his recollection that the tops of the towers of the far
larger bridge at Brooklyn would be only twenty-six feet higher than
the roadway at Clifton. Mrs. Devar, of course, showed an utter lack of
interest in the debate. Indeed, she refused emphatically to walk to
the middle of the bridge, on the plea of light-headedness, and Cynthia
instantly availed herself of the few minutes' tete-a-tete thus
vouchsafed.

"Now," said she, looking, not at Medenham, but at the Titanic cleft
cut by a tiny river, "now, please, tell me all about it."

"Just as at Cheddar, the rocks are limestone----" he began.

"Oh, bother the rocks! How did you get rid of Simmonds? And why is
Count Marigny mad? And are you mixed up in Captain Devar's mighty
smart change of base? Tell me everything. I hate mysteries. If we go
on at the present rate some of us will soon be wearing masks and
cloaks, and stamping our feet, and saying 'Ha! Ha!' or 'Sdeath!' or
something equally absurd."

"Simmonds is a victim of science. If the earth wire of a magneto makes
a metallic contact there is trouble in the cylinders, so Simmonds is
switched off