his mind. But, just as
he was going to reply--and his features expressed no great amount of
good-will--Isabel intervened:

"Don't ask my father any questions, Simon . . . He appreciates the
wonderful thing that you have done at its true value. But you and I
have offended him too seriously for him to be able to forgive you just
yet. We must let time wipe out the unpleasant memory."

"Time!" echoed Simon, with a laugh. "Time! The trouble is that I have
only twelve days left in which to triumph over all the labours put
upon me. After conquering England, I have still to win the laurels of
Hercules . . . or of Don Quixote."

"Well," she said, "in the meantime hurry off and go to bed. That's the
best thing you can do for the moment."

And she drew Lord Bakefield away with her.

CHAPTER VII

LYNX-EYE

"What do you say to this, my boy? Did I prophesy it all, or did I not?
Read my pamphlet on _The Channel in the Year 2000_ and you'll see. And
then remember all I told you the other morning, at Newhaven station.
Well, there you are: the two countries are joined together as they
were once before, in the Eocene epoch."

Awakened with a start by Old Sandstone, Simon, with eyes still heavy
with slumber, gazed vacantly at the hotel bed-room in which he had
been sleeping, at his old professor, walking to and fro, and at
another person, who was sitting in the dark and who seemed to be an
acquaintance of Old Sandstone's.

"Ah!" yawned Simon. "But what's the time?"

"Seven o'clock in the evening, my son."

"What? Seven o'clock? Have I been sleeping since last night's meeting
at the Casino?"

"Rather! I was strolling about this morning, when I heard of your
adventure. 'Simon Dubosc! I know him.' said I. I ran like mad. I
rapped on the door. I came in. Nothing would wake you. I went away,
came back again and so on, until I decided to sit down by your bedside
and wait."

Simon leapt out of bed. New clothes and clean linen had been laid out
in the bathroom; and he saw, hanging on the wall, his jacket, the same
with which he had covered the bare shoulders of the young woman whom
he had released.

"Who brought that?" he asked.

"That? What?" asked Old Sandstone.

Simon turned to him.

"Tell me, professor, did any one come to this room while you were
here?"

"Yes, lots of people. They came in as they liked: admirers, idle
sightseers. . . ."

"Did a woman come in?"

"Upon my word, I didn't notice. . . . Why?"