stop at the hotel at Sandwich. It
would have to be a real breakdown, for Lord Badington keeps motor-cars
of his own, and his drivers would be sure to be clever at putting
anything right----"

"Oh," says I, quickly enough, "if they can get this car right when I
have done with it, I'll put up statues to 'em in the British Museum.
You say no more, miss. We'll break down right enough, and if you are
not breakfasting with his lordship to-morrow morning, don't blame me."

She nodded her head; and I could swear the excitement of it set her
eyes on fire. Lord Badington's house, you must know, stands
overlooking Pegwell Bay, not very far from the golf links, while the
Ramsgate Road runs right before its doors. There is nothing but a bit
of an inn near by, and not a cottage in sight. I saw that the place
could not have been better chosen, and fifty yards from the big iron
gates I got off my seat and prepared for business.

"You're really sure that you mean this, miss?" I asked her, knowing
what women are. "You won't change your mind afterwards, and blame me
because the car isn't going?"

"How can you ask such a thing?" was her answer. "Doesn't my whole
future depend on our success, Britten?"

"Then you won't have long to wait," I rejoined, and, opening the
bonnet, I set to work upon the magneto, and in twenty minutes had done
the job as surely as it could have been done by the makers themselves.

"If this car is going on to-night," said I, "some one will have to push
it. Now will you please tell me what is the next move, miss, for I'm
beginning to think I should like my supper?"

She was down on the road herself by this time, and pretty enough she
looked in her motor veil, and the beautiful sables which Mr. Sarand had
given her last winter. When she told me to go on to the house, and to
say that a lady's motor-car had broken down at the gates, I would have
laid twenty to one on the success of her scheme, always provided that
we weren't left to the menials who bark incivilities at a nobleman's
door. Here luck stood by Miss Dolly, for hardly had I pulled the great
bell at Lord Badington's gate when his own car came flying up the
drive, with his lordship himself sitting in the back of it.

"What do you want, my man?" he asked, in a quick, sharp tone--he's a
wonder for fifty-two, and there has been no smarter man in the Guards
since he left them. "Where do you come from?"

"Begging your pardon, sir," said I, for