greement
and placed it in his pocket. "Did you notice it?"

I had not, so we went out into Piccadilly together, and there, standing
at the kerb, I saw a car that caused my heart to bound with delight--a
magnificent six-cylinder forty horse-power "Napier," of the very latest
model. The car was open, with side entrance, a dark green body with
coronet and cipher on the panels, upholstered in red, with glass
removable screen to the splashboard--a splendid, workmanlike car just
suitable for long tours and fast runs. Of all the cars and of all the
makes, that was the only one which it was my ambition to drive.

I walked around it in admiration, and saw that every accessory was the
best and very latest that money could buy--even to the newly invented
gas-generator which had only a few weeks ago been placed upon the
market. I lifted the long bonnet, looked around the engine, and saw
those six cylinders in a row--the latest invention of a celebrated
inventor.

"Splendid!" I ejaculated. "There's nothing yet to beat this car. By
Jove! we can get a move on a good road!"

"Yes," smiled the Count. "My man Mario could make her travel, but he's a
fool, and has left me in a fit of temper. He was an Italian, and we
Italians are, alas! hot-headed," and he laughed again. "Would you like
to try her?"

I assented with delight, and, while he returned inside the Club to get
his fur coat, I started the engine and got in at the steering-wheel.
A few moments later he seated himself beside me, and we glided down
Piccadilly on our way to Regent's Park--the ground where, day after day,
it had been my habit to go testing. The car ran perfectly, the engines
sounding a splendid rhythm through the Regent Street traffic into broad
Portland Place, and on into the Park, where I was afforded some scope
to see what she could do. The Count declared that he was in no hurry,
therefore we went up through Hampstead to Highgate Station, and then on
the Great North Road, through East End, Whetstone, Barnet, and Hatfield,
to Hitchin--thirty-five miles of road which was as well known to me as
the Strand.

The morning was dry and cold, the roads in excellent condition bar a few
patches of new metal between Codicote and Chapelfoot, and the sharp east
wind compelled us to goggle. Fortunately, I had on my leather-lined
frieze coat, and was therefore fully equipped. The North Road between
London and Hitchin is really of little use for trying the speed of a
car, fo