ut her that was
particularly attractive. She walked well, holding her skirt tightly
about her as only a true Parisienne can, and displaying a pair of
extremely neat ankles. She inquired about me--how long had I been in the
Count's service, how I liked him, and such-like; while I, by careful
questioning, discovered that her name was Gabrielle Deleuse, and that
she came to the Cote d'Azur each season.

Just as we were opposite the white facade of the Hotel Westminster we
encountered a short, rather stout, middle-aged lady, accompanied by a
tall, thin, white-haired gentleman. They were well dressed, the lady
wearing splendid sables.

My companion started when she recognised them, instantly lowering her
sunshade in order to hide her face. Whether the pair noticed her I
cannot say. I only know that, as soon as they passed, she exclaimed, in
annoyance--

"I can't think why Bindo sent you along here with me."

"I regret, mademoiselle, that my companionship should be distasteful to
you," I replied, mystified.

"No, no, not that, m'sieur," she cried anxiously. "I do not mean that.
You do not know--how can you know what I mean?"

"You probably mean that you ought not to be seen walking here, on the
Promenade des Anglais, with a common chauffeur."

"If you are a chauffeur, m'sieur, you are also a gentleman," she said,
looking straight into my face.

"I thank mademoiselle for her high compliment," I said, bowing, for
really I was in no way averse to a little mild flirtation with such a
delightful companion. And yet what, I wondered, was my _role_ in this
latest piece of complicated trickery?

She quickened her pace, glancing anxiously at everyone we met, as though
wishing to arrive at the end of our walk.

I was sorry our little chat was drawing to a close. I would like to
have had her at my side for a day's run on the car, and I told her so.

"Perhaps you will take me for a long trip one day--who knows?" she
laughed. "Yesterday it was perfect."

A few moments later we arrived before the Suisse, and from a seat on the
Promenade Count Bindo rose to greet us. He had left his motor-coat and
cap in the car, and stood before us in his grey flannels and white soft
felt hat--a smart, handsome figure, such as women mostly admire. Indeed,
Bindo was essentially a lady's man, for he seemed to have a bowing
acquaintance with hundreds of the fair sex.

"Well, Gabrielle, and has Ewart been saying lots of pretty things to
you--eh