ore he came
to the right one. But to be treated like a serf?--no, not if Simmonds
knew it!

The car stopped with a jerk. Out leaped the driver.

"Now you can walk to the hotel," he said, though he distinguished the
hotel by an utterly inappropriate adjective.

The more sudden the crisis the more prepared was Vanrenen--that was
his noted characteristic, whether dealing with men or money.

"What has bitten _you_?" he demanded calmly.

"You must find somebody else to do your detective work, that is all,"
came the stolid answer.

"Don't be a mule."

"I'm not a mule. You're makin' a d----d row about nothing. Viscount
Medenham is a gentleman to his finger tips, and if you were one you'd
know that he wouldn't hurt a hair of Miss Vanrenen's head, or any
lady's, for that matter."

"Where my daughter is concerned I am not a gentleman, or a viscount,
or a person who makes d----d rows. I am just a father--a plain, simple
father--who thinks more of his girl than of any other object in this
wide world. If I have hurt your feelings I am sorry. If I am
altogether mistaken I'll apologize and pay. I'm paying now. This trip
will probably cost me fifty thousand dollars that I would have
scooped in were I in Paris to-morrow. Your game is to attend to the
benzine buzz part of the contract and leave the rest to me. Shove
ahead, and step lively!"

To his lasting credit, Simmonds obeyed: but the row had cleared the
air; Vanrenen liked the man, and felt now that his original estimate
of his worth was justified.

At the hotel, of course, he had much more to learn than he expected.
Oddly enough, the praises showered on "Fitzroy" confirmed him in the
opinion that Cynthia was the victim of a clever knave, be he titled
aristocrat or mere adventurer. For the first time, too, he began to
suspect Mrs. Devar of complicity in the plot!

A nice kind of chaperon she must be to let his girl go boating with a
chauffeur on the Wye! And her Sunday's illness was a palpable
pretense--an arranged affair, no doubt, to permit more boating and
dallying in this fairyland of forest and river. What thanks he owed to
that Frenchman, Marigny!

Indeed, it was easy to hoodwink this hard-headed man in aught that
affected Cynthia. Count Edouard displayed a good deal of tact when he
called at the Savoy Hotel late the previous night, but his obvious
relief at finding Vanrenen in London had induced the latter to depart
for Bristol by a midnight train rather than