ve nothing to do, by all means."

It was an odd thing to hear, to be sure, and you can well understand my
hesitation as I stood there on the landing and watched that stiff and
starched valet, who might have just come out of a tailor's shop.
Gentlemen are not usually reserved between themselves, but this fellow
beat me altogether, and I liked him but little. Such a
"don't-touch-me-or-I-shall-vanish" manner you don't come across often
even in Park Lane, and I soon saw that whatever else happened, Joseph,
the valet, as they called him, and Lal Britten, the "shuffer," were
never going to the North Pole together.

"If it's doing nothing," said I at last, "Mr. Colmacher won't have
cause to complain of his driver. Am I to call again, or will he send
for me?"

"He will send for you, unless you like to see Mr. Walter in the
meantime?"

I looked up at this. There had been no "Mr. Walter" in the business
before.

"Mr. Walter--and who may Mr. Walter be?"

"He is Mr. Colmacher's son."

"Then I will see him just as soon as you like."

He nodded his head and invited me in. Presently I found myself in a
fine bedroom on the far side of the flat, and what was my astonishment
to discover Mr. Walter himself in bed with a big cut across his
forehead and his right arm in a sling. He was a lean, pale youth, but
with as cadaverous a face as I have ever looked upon; and when he spoke
his voice appeared to come from the back of his head.

"You are the new driver my father has engaged?"

"Yes, sir, I am the same."

"I hope you understand powerful cars. Did my father tell you that ours
is a steam car?"

"He talked about a fifty-seven Daimler, sir."

"But you have had experience with steam cars----"

"How did you know that, sir?"

He smiled softly.

"We have made inquiries--naturally, we should do so."

"Then you have not been misinformed. I drove a thirty-horse White
three months last year."

"Ah, the same car that we drive. Unfortunately, I cannot help my
father just now, for I have met with an accident--in the hunting field."

I jibbed at this. Motor-men don't know much about the hunting field,
as a rule, but I wasn't such a ninny that I supposed men hunted in July.

"Hunting, did you say, sir?"

"That is, trying a horse for the hunting season. Well, you may go now.
Leave your address with Joseph. My father will send for you when he
returns, and meanwhile you are at liberty."

I thanked him and went off.