orspittles ever since I was there for two months, I got up on
the box again and drove off, for there was a bobby coming up; and I've
been driving you about ever since."

"Driving me about ever since?"

"That's so, sir. We've been round Belgrave Square about a dozen times,
and I was just going to drive you back to our stables, where it ain't
quite so wet, when you downed the window."

"I can't grasp it," said Chester, hoarsely.

"Oh, never you mind about that, sir; you'll be all right soon. You see,
beggin' your pardon, you was precious tight, and your friend had all he
could do to hold you up. `Just like a jelly, kebby,' he says; and you
was, sir. Your legs doubled up like a two-foot rule with a weak jynte."

"My friend!" cried Chester, snatching at that as something to cling to.
"Who was that?"

"That's what I'm a-telling you, sir. Your friend--"

"But what sort of a person was it?"

"Big, stout young fellow, like a Lifeguardsman, but a real gent. Very
jovial sort. `Take great keer of him, kebby,' he says, and he tipped me
a quid. `Help him up the steps when you get him home.' `Right you are,
sir,' I says, as soon as I'd shut you up. `But wheer to?'
`Thirty-three Chrissal Square, Chelsea,' he says, and there I drove you,
and there you'd be, only your guv'nor cut up so rough."

"Chrissal Square, Chelsea?" cried Chester, eagerly.

"That's it, sir."

"Why didn't he tell you Raybeck Square?"

"Dunno, I'm sure, sir. That's where all the doctors is."

"Yes, of course."

"Didn't think you was bad enough, I s'pose, sir. And you ain't. You
on'y want a drop to clear your head a bit."

"Drive me to Raybeck Square, thirty-four, at once."

"Won't you have a drop of something first, sir? Do you more good than
going to a doctor's, and me, too."

"No, no, absurd. But one moment. You said Piccadilly Circus?"

"That's right, sir."

"And my friend helped me into the cab, and paid you to drive me home?"

"That's it, sir. You're getting it now--all by heart."

"A tall, stout gentleman?"

"Well, not exactly that, sir. I don't mean a fat 'un with a big weskit.
A reg'lar strong-built un."

"I can't grasp it," muttered Chester. Then aloud,--"But why did he tell
you to drive me to the wrong house?"

"Bit on too, sir. Arter dinner. Did it for a lark, p'ra'ps."

"Drive me home," said Chester, sinking back. "I can't recollect a bit."

"Course you can't, sir. Better have a hair o' the dog as bi