mstances only a few hours
before. I was on a run alone, with the forty "Napier," from Limoges to
London, and on that particular winter's night had pulled up at the small
station of Bersac to send a telegram. I had written out the message,
leaving the car outside, and was walking along the platform, when
the stationmaster, who had been talking with a tall, dark-haired,
good-looking girl, approached me, cap in hand.

"Excuse me, m'sieur, but a lady wishes to ask a great favour of you."

"Of me? What is it?" I inquired, rising.

Glancing at the tall figure in black, I saw that she was not more than
twenty-two at the outside, and that she had the bearing and manner of a
lady.

"Well, m'sieur, she will explain herself," the man said; whereupon the
fair stranger approached, bowing, and exclaimed--

"I trust M'sieur will pardon me for what I am about to ask. I know it is
great presumption on my part, a total stranger, but the fact is that I
am bound to get to Paris to-morrow morning. It is imperative--most
imperative--that I should be there and keep an appointment. I find,
however, that the last train has gone. I thought----" and she hesitated,
with downcast eyes.

"You mean that you want me to allow you to travel in the car,
mademoiselle?" I said, with a smile.

"Ah! m'sieur, if you would--if you only would! It would be an act of
friendship that I would never forget."

She saw my hesitation, and I detected how anxious she became. Her gloved
hands were trembling, and she seemed agitated and pale to the lips.

Again I scrutinised her. There was nothing of the police spy or
adventuress about her. On the contrary, she seemed a very charmingly
modest young woman.

"But surely it would be rather wearisome, mademoiselle?" I said.

"No, no, not at all. I must get to Paris at all costs. Ah! m'sieur, you
will allow me to do as I ask, will you not? Do, I implore you!"

I made no reply; for, truth to tell, although I was not suspicious, I
hesitated to allow the fair stranger to be my travelling companion. It
was against my principle. Yet, reading disinclination in my silence, she
continued--

"Ah! m'sieur, if you only knew in what deadly peril I am! By granting
this favour to me you can----" and she broke off short. "Well," she went
on, "I may as well tell you the truth, m'sieur;" and in her eyes there
was a strange look that I had never seen in those of any woman
before,--"you can save my life."

"Your life?" I echoed,