ouldn't trust my eyes at this moment. There were a
good many stars floating before them--not heavenly--the kind I should
have liked to make Talleyrand see.

"Yes, miss, I heard," I said brutally, "and, of course, if you and your
aunt would like that, I could wire to Mr. Barrow, the gentleman who went
round the Chateau with us to-day, that I was free to take an engagement
with him and his daughter."

She turned on me like a flash. "Oh, is _that_ what you are thinking of?
Well--certainly you may consider yourself free--_perfectly_ free. You
are under no contract. Go! go to-morrow--or even to-night if you wish.
Leave me here with my car. I can go back to Paris, or--or somewhere."

"But I thought you were going on with the French gentleman?" I said.

"I should not think of going with him," she announced icily.

"You said----"

"I said he _invited_ me. I never said I meant to go; I couldn't have
said it. For I should _hate_ going with him. There would be no fun in
that at all. I want my own car or none. But that need not matter to you.
Go with your Barrows."

"Begging your pardon, miss, I don't want to go with any Barrows."

"But you said----"

"If you wished to get rid of me----"

"_I_ wish 'to get rid of' you! I don't repudiate my--business
arrangements in that way."

"May I stop on with you, then, miss?" I pleaded at my meekest. "I'll try
and do the best I can about the car."

"Oh, do you _really_ think there's any hope?" She clasped her hands and
looked at me as if I were an oracle. Her eyelashes are very long. I
wonder why they are so charming on her and so abominable on a Frenchman?

"I've got an idea in my mind, miss," said I, "that might make everything
all right."

"Brown," said she, "you are a kind of leather angel."

Then we both laughed. And I am afraid it occurred to her that the ground
we were touching was not calculated to bear a lady and her _mecanicien_,
for she turned and ran away.

It was not yet ten o'clock, and I had something better to do than crawl
into the bed of straw that had been offered me. It was not much more
than ten miles to Amboise, and opening the great gate as quietly as I
could, I stepped out upon the white road and set off briskly for the
town, my Plan guiding me like a big bright beacon.

What I meant to do--what I was meaning and wanting at this present
moment to do--is this.

Being now at Amboise, having knocked up the hotel porter on arriving, I
shall let poor o