loaded car of twelve horse-power--the
Chauffeulier kept the automobile constantly going "for all she was
worth." He had planned that we should spend the night at the sea-coast
town of Zara--that place so inextricably tangled up in Venetian
history--for there we might find a hotel fit to stop at.

About midday we lunched at a mean town called Gospic, and vast was the
upheaval that our advent caused.

As we drove in, looking right and left for the cleanest inn, every
able-bodied person under seventy and several considerably over ran to
follow, their figures swarming after us as a tail follows a comet. At
the door of our chosen lunching-place they surged round the car,
pressing against us, and even plucking at our dresses as we pushed
through into the house. Spray from this human wave tossed into the
passage and eating-room in our wake, until the burly innkeeper, his
large wife, and two solid handmaidens swept it out by sheer weight.

Mr. Barrymore was afraid to leave the car, lest it should be damaged, so
he sat in it, eating bread and cheese with imperturbable good humour,
though every mouthful he took was watched down his throat by a hundred
eager eyes.

The landlord waited upon us himself, and could speak German and Italian
as well as his own Croatian or Slavish dialect. We were surprised at the
goodness of the luncheon, and Sir Ralph was surprised at the cheapness
of the bill. "It will be different when they've turned this coast into
the Austrian Riviera, as they 're trying to do," he said.

When we appeared at the door again, ready to go on, there fell a heavy
silence on the Chauffeulier's audience. Not only had they had the
entertainment of watching him feed, but had observed with fearful awe
the replenishing of the petrol and water-tanks and examination of the
lubricators. Now they had the extra pleasure of seeing us put on our
motor-masks and take our places. When all was ready Mr. Barrymore seized
the starting handle, and gave it the one vigorous twist which wakes the
engine when it is napping. But almost for the first time the motor was
refractory. The handle recoiled so violently and unexpectedly that the
Chauffeulier staggered back and trod on the toes of the fat man of the
crowd, while at the same time there burst from the inner being of the
car a loud report. At this sign of the motor's power and rebellion
against him whom it should have obeyed, the audience uttered cries,
scattering right and left, so