single
woman, and perhaps unprotected; and without any more words we set out
across Westminster Bridge, and were very soon picking our way down the
Old Kent Road. A couple of hours later we came to Maidstone, where we
had tea; it was a quarter past five precisely when we made a new start
for Canterbury, and a good hour and a half later when we entered that
musty old town.

I shall never forget that journey, the country just showing the buds of
spring, the roads white and beautiful, the twenty Renault running as
smooth as a beautiful clock. Three months had passed since I had
driven Miss Dolly, and this was the month of May. Yet here she was,
just the same wicked little witch as ever, trotting round on a wild
errand, and about to come out best, I could swear. As for me, I had
the sack before me for a certainty; but little I cared for that. Who
would have done, with Dolly St. John for his passenger?

We drove through Canterbury, I say, and set the car going her best on
the fair road after Sturry is passed. I know the country hereabouts
pretty well, being accustomed to visit fashionable watering-places from
time to time, and well acquainted with Ramsgate and Margate, to say
nothing of Deal and Dover. My road lay by Monkton, down toward Pegwell
Bay, and it was just at the entrance to Minster that Dolly made me stop
without much warning, and took me into her confidence for the first
time.

"Britten," says she, "there is something I didn't tell you, but which I
think I ought to tell you now. I'm not asked to Lord Badington's house
at all."

"Not asked," said I, with a mouth wide enough open to swallow a pint of
gear-box "B." "Then what's the good of going there, if you're not
invited?"

"Oh," says she, more sweetly than ever, "I think they'll be glad to
have me if I do get inside, Britten; but we shall have to act our parts
very well."

I laughed at this.

"Seeing that neither of us is in the theatrical line, I don't suppose
that anybody is going to take me for Sir Beerbohm Tree, or you for the
Merry Widow," says I, "but, anyway, I'll do my best."

This pleased her, and she looked at me out of her pretty eyes, just
sweet enough to make a man think himself a beauty.

"You see, Britten," says she, "if the car broke down just outside Lord
Badington's house, perhaps they would give me shelter for the night; at
least, I hope they would, and if they would not, well, it doesn't
really matter, and we can go and