bout
Dorothy. If the police, who were in a bustle from Mentone to Genoa,
caught them, it must be endured. But Dorothy had escaped unharmed, and
the less fuss made about the matter the better.

Mr. Rainer listened to reason; Dorothy got into the car with Sir
Tancred and her father; and they continued the descent. Once on the
highroad they set out for Monte Carlo as hard as they dared go at
night. It was past midnight when they reached the hotel, where Buist
was awaiting them in great anxiety. The sight of them set his mind at
rest; but to this day he is inclined to believe that Sir Tancred had a
hand in the kidnapping of Dorothy, and that Selina was an accomplice.
To his intimates he speaks of him with great respect as "a mastermind
of crime."

They were all very hungry and they supped at great length, in very good
spirits. As they were going upstairs to bed, Tinker succeeded in
keeping Dorothy back.

"It's all very well your being the daughter of a millionaire," he said
with some severity. "But an employer has his rights. I can't lose a
governess who suits Elsie so well, straight off. I shall expect a
month's notice."

"But I've no intention of resigning that excellent post," said Dorothy,
smiling.

Tinker looked at her gravely, thinking, and then he said gloomily,
"Your father will never let you be a governess. I suppose you expect
me to back you up against him."

"That's just what I do expect," said Dorothy.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TINKER TAKES SEPTIMUS RAINER IN HAND

On awaking next morning Dorothy's first thought was how would her
father's coming affect her relations with Sir Tancred; and she at once
changed it to how would it affect her relations with the whole of the
little circle into which a fortunate whim had led her. She was an honest
soul, and now she tried to be as honest with herself as a woman can bring
herself to be. She did not hide from herself that of late she and Sir
Tancred had been more and more drawn together; she even went to the
length of admitting that her feeling for him was something stronger than
friendship. Indeed, she was full of pity for him. She had learned from
Tinker something of the story of his earlier life, and like a good woman
she wished she might give him the happiness he had missed. She did not
know how strongly she longed to give him that happiness, much less was
she able to distinguish where pity merged into love. Now she was in a
great dread of h