he said. "Twenty-three
miles. There's an inn at Hurley of a sort. There's no town there to speak
of, you know. It's only a junction."

"Oh! well, I'll risk the inn at Hurley for one night," I said.

"What about your things?" he asked.

"Blast!" was my only comment.

"Rummest go I ever heard of," Banks interjected thoughtfully. "You don't
mean as they've actually _turned you out?_"

"Well, no, not exactly," I explained. "But I couldn't possibly go back
there."

"What about writing a note for your things?" he suggested. "I'd take it
up."

"And ask them to lend me the motor?"

"I don't expect they'd mind," he said.

"Perhaps not. Anything to get rid of me," I returned. "But I'm not going
to ask them any favours. I don't mind using the bally thing--they owe me
that--but I'm not going to ask them for it."

"Must have been a fair old bust up," he commented, evidently curious still
about my quarrel at the Hall.

"I told you that it ended with my wanting to fight Frank Jervaise," I
reminded him.

He grinned again. "How did he get out of it?" he asked.

"What makes you think he wanted to get out of it?" I retorted.

He measured me for a moment with his eye before he said, "Mr. Frank isn't
the fighting sort. I've seen him go white before now, when I've took the
corner a bit sharp." He paused a moment before adding, "But they're all a
bit like that."

"Nervous at dangerous corners," I commented, sharpening his image for him.

"Blue with funk," he said.

It occurred to me that possibly some hint of the family taint in Brenda
had influenced, at the last moment, the plan of her proposed elopement;
but I said nothing of that to Banks.

"I'd better leave my things," I said, returning to the subject which was
of chief importance to me. You take me to that inn at Hurley. If I arrive
in a motor, they'll take me in all right, even though I haven't any
luggage. I'll invent some story as we go."

"They'd take you _in_," Banks replied thoughtfully. "'Tisn't hardly more
than a public house, really."

I thought that some strain of the gentleman's servant in him was concerned
with the question of the entertainment proper to my station.

"It's only for one night," I remarked.

"Oh! yes," he said, obviously thinking of something else.

"Too far for you to go?" I asked.

He glanced at his wrist watch. "Quarter past five," he said. "It'd take me
the best part of two hours to get there and back--the road's none too
go