on the steering-wheel with a
caress.

"You have a real lovely automobile, Fitzroy," she said, "and I have a
sort of notion that you are devoted to it. May I ask--is it your own
car?"

"Yes. I bought it six months ago. I learnt to drive in France, and, as
soon as I heard of the new American engine, I--er--couldn't rest until
I had tried it."

He was on the point of saying something wholly different, but managed
to twist the second half of the sentence in time. What would Miss
Vanrenen have thought had he continued: "I sent my chauffeur to
England, and, on receipt of his report, I had this car shipped within
a week?"

There are problems too deep for speculation when a man is guiding a
ton of palpitating metal along a hedge-lined road at forty miles an
hour. This was one.

Cynthia, knowing nothing of any "new American engine," would die
rather than confess her ignorance. Moreover, she was pondering a
problem of her own. If it was not his master's car he might be open
to a bargain.

"Simmonds is an old friend of yours, I suppose?" she said.

"Yes, I have known him some years. We were in South Africa together."

"In the war, do you mean?"

"Yes."

"How dreadful! Have you ever killed anybody?"

"Not with petrol, I am happy to state."

There was an eloquent pause. Cynthia examined his reply, and
discovered that it covered a good deal of ground. Perhaps, too, it
conveyed the least little bit of a snub. Hence, her tone stiffened
perceptibly.

"I mentioned Simmonds," she explained, "because I think my father
might arrange--to the satisfaction of all parties, of course--that you
should carry through this present tour, while Simmonds would come into
our service when we return to London."

Medenham laughed. In its way, the compliment was graceful and well
meant, but the utter absurdity of his position was now thrust upon him
with overwhelming force.

"I am very much obliged to you, Miss Vanrenen," he said, venturing
to look once more into those alluring eyes, so shy, so daring, so
divinely wise and childishly candid. "If circumstances permitted,
there is nothing I would like better than to take you through this
Paradise of a June England; but it is quite impossible. Simmonds must
bring his car to Bristol, as I positively cannot be absent from town
longer than three days."

Cynthia did not pout. She nodded appreciation of the weighty if
undescribed business that called Fitzroy and his Mercury back to
London,