s if I couldn't bear to go back to Aunt
Mary until something had happened. Then something did happen, but not
the thing I had wanted. The very car that had stopped when we were in
trouble on the hill of the blacksmiths, far on the other side of Paris,
more than a week ago, came gliding smoothly, deliciously into the
_garage_.

The same two leather-capped and coated men were in it, master and
_chauffeur_, I thought. The madame of the establishment was talking
sympathetically to me, but I heard the voice of the man who had asked me
if he could help (the one I had taken for the master) inquiring in
French for a particular kind of essence. Then I didn't hear any more. He
and the _garage_ man were speaking in lower tones, and besides, the
shrill condolences of madame drowned their murmurs. She was loudly
giving it as her opinion that my _chauffeur_ had run off with my money,
and that, unless I had some means of tracing him, I should never look
upon his face again. I did wish that she would be quiet, at least until
the fortunate automobilists rolled away like kings in their chariot; but
I couldn't make her stop, and I was certain they heard every word. I
even imagined that they had deserted the subject of petrol for my
troubles, because I could see out of a corner of an eye that the
proprietor in his conversation with them nodded more than once towards
my car, in which I sat ingloriously enthroned like a sort of captive
Zenobia.

They seemed to be a long time buying their petrol, anyway, and presently
my worst fears were confirmed. The man who had spoken to me on the fatal
hill came forward, repeating himself (like history) by taking off his
cap and wearing exactly the same half-shy, half-interested expression as
before.

He said "er" once or twice, and then informed me that the proprietor had
been telling him what a scrape I was in, or words to that effect. He
offered to drive into Paris on his car, which would only take a few
minutes, go to the place where my _chauffeur_ had intended to buy the
crank, see whether he had been there, and if so, what delayed him. Then,
if anything were wrong, he would come back and let me know.

I said that I couldn't possibly let him take so much trouble, but he
would hardly listen. He knew the address of the place from the _garage_
man, who had recommended it to Rattray, and almost before I knew what
had happened the car and the dusty, leather-clad men were off.

There was nothing for