ings-on at Bournemouth. It happened that the Countess of Porthcawl's
bedroom overlooked the carriage-way in front of the Royal Bath Hotel,
and, when she recovered from the stupor of recognizing Medenham in
the chauffeur of the Vanrenen equipage, she gratified her spite by
sending a lively and wholly distorted version of the tour to his aunt.

The letter reached Curzon Street during the afternoon, and exercised a
remarkably restorative effect on the now convalescent lover of forced
strawberries. Lady St. Maur ordered her carriage, and was driven in a
jiffy to the Fairholme mansion in Cavendish Square, where she and her
brother indulged in the most lugubrious opinions as to the future of
"poor George." They assumed that he would fall an easy prey to the
wiles of a "designing American." Neither of them had met many citizens
of the United States, and each shared to the fullest extent the common
British dislike of every person and every thing that is new and
strange, so they had visions of a Countess of Fairholme who would
speak in the weird tongue of Chicago, whose name would be "Mamie," who
would call the earl "poppa number two," and prefix every utterance
with "Say," or "My land!"

Both brother and sister had laughed many a time at the stage version
of a Briton as presented in Paris, but they forgot that the average
Englishman's conception of the average American is equally ludicrous
in its blunders. In devising means "to save George" they flew into a
panic. Lady St. Maur telegraphed a frantic appeal to Lady Porthcawl
for information, but "dear Millicent" took thought, saw that she was
already sufficiently committed, and caused her maid to reply that she
had left Bournemouth for the weekend.

A telegram to the hotel manager produced more definite news. Cynthia,
providing against the receipt of any urgent message from her father,
had given the College Green Hotel as her address for the night; but
this intelligence arrived too late to permit of the Earl's departure
till next morning. Lady Porthcawl's hint that the "devoted George was
traveling incognito" prevented the use of wire or post. If the
infatuated viscount were to be brought to reason there was nothing for
it but that the Earl should hurry to Bristol by an early train next
morning. He did hurry, and arrived five minutes too late.

Marigny, of course, saw that lightning had darted from a summer sky.
If the despised chauffeur had proved such a tough opponent, what