"All as interesting as this?"
"Quite, in different ways."
"Hm! Do you speak French?"
"Fairly," I modestly responded.
"Well, if this young lady hasn't engaged you for too long ahead, I
should like to talk to you about going on with us. I didn't think I
should care to have a courier, but a chap like you would add a good deal
to the pleasure of a trip. Seems to me you are a sort of walking
encyclopaedia. I would pay you whatever you asked, in reason----"
"And, oh, papa, he might go on with us all the way to Cannes!" chipped
in the daughter, which was my first intimation that she was listening.
But she had joined the forward group, and the words addressed to Pa were
apparently spoken at me. I dared not look at Miss Randolph, but I hoped
that a background of other people's approval might set me off well in
her eyes.
I was collecting my wits for an adequate answer, when she relieved me of
the responsibility. I might even say she snapped up the young lady from
Lancashire.
"I'm afraid I must disappoint you," she replied for her _chauffeur_.
"He is engaged to _me_. I mean" (and she blushed divinely) "he is under
engagement to remain with my aunt and myself for some time. We are
making a tour on an automobile."
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said the old fellow, as the American and
the English girl eyed each other--or each other's dresses. "I didn't
understand the arrangement. When you _are_ free, though," he went on,
turning to me, "you might just let me know. We're thinking of travelling
about for some time, and I've taken a liking to your ways. I'm at the
'Grand' here at Blois for the day, then we go on to Tours, and so by
easy stages to the Riviera. At Cannes, we shall settle down for a bit,
as my daughter has a friend who's expecting us to meet her there. But
I'll give you my card, with my home address on it, and a letter, or,
better still, a wire, would be forwarded." He then thanked Miss Randolph
for me, thanked me for myself, and, with a last flourish of trumpets,
handed me his card.
By this time we had "done" the castle, as conscientious Aunt Mary would
say, and were parting. All exchanged bows (Miss Randolph's and the
Lancashire girl's expressive of armed neutrality) and parted. I
thereupon glanced at the card and got a sensation.
"Mr. Jabez Barrow, Edenholme Hall, Liverpool," was what I read. That
conveys little to you, though as an address it has suggestive charm, but
to me it meant nothing less than a complication. Queer, what a little
place the world is! To make clear the situation I need only say, "The
Cotton King." Yes, that's it; you've guessed it. These Barrows are my
mother's newest proteges. Jabez Barrow is the "quaint, original old man"
she is so anxious for me to meet, and, indeed, has made arrangements
that I _should_ meet. Miss Barrow is the "beautiful girl with wonderful
eyes and such charming ways," who, in my dear mother's opinion, would be
so desirable as a daughter-in-law. Had not your doctors knocked our
plans on the head you would have had the pleasure of being introduced in
my company to the heiress, when I should have made you a present of my
chance to add to your own. As it is--well, I don't quite see that any
bother can come out of this coincidence, but I must keep a sharp lookout
for myself. I saw no Kodak in the hands of the gilded ones,
or--by-and-by--my mother might receive a shock. But perhaps they may
have possessed and concealed it.
Into the midst of my broodings over the card broke the voice of Miss
Randolph, in whose wake I was now following down the picturesque old
street to the hotel. Talleyrand was in attendance again, and she had
merely to say that the car was to be ready for start to Amboise after
luncheon. Accordingly I stepped over to my own private lair, told Almond
to get off at once with my Napier to Amboise, putting up at a hotel I
named and awaiting instructions.
Have you begun to think there's to be no end to this letter? Well, I
shall try to whet your curiosity for what's still to come by saying that
I have availed myself of a strange blank interval in the middle of the
night for the writing of it, and that dawn can't now be far off. When
it breaks this adventure of mine will have reached a crisis--a
distinctly new development. But enough of hints.
This country of the Loire is exquisite; it has both grandeur and simple
beauty, and the road winding above the river is practically level and in
splendid condition; ideal for motors and "hay-motors." The distance
between the good town of Blois and Amboise is less than twenty miles.
Any decent-minded motor would whistle along from the great grey Chateau
to the brilliant cream-white one under the hour, but that isn't the way
of our Demon.
Miss Randolph once said that owning a motor-car was like having a
half-tamed dragon in the family. She is quite right about _her_
motor-car, poor child! The Demon had been behaving somewhat less
fiendishly of late, and I had hopes of a successful run to Amboise,
which I particularly desired, as Eyelashes was to accompany us with his
Pieper. But this good conduct had been no more than a trick.
The luggage was loaded up; Talleyrand was making himself officious about
helping the ladies, who were in the courtyard ready to mount, when the
motor took it into its vile head not to start--a little attack of
faintness, owing to the petrol being cold perhaps. Of course, there was
the usual crowd of hotel servants and loafers to see us off, and beyond,
standing as interested spectators on the steps, who but Jabez Barrow and
his handsome daughter.
I tell you the perspiration decorated my forehead in beads when I'd
made a dozen fruitless efforts to start that family dragon, Eyelashes
maddening me the while with a series of idiotic suggestions. Even Miss
Randolph began to get a little nervous, and called out to me, "What
_can_ be the matter, Brown? I thought you were such a _strong_ man too.
Do let Monsieur Talleyrand try, as he's an expert."
I could see Eyelashes didn't like that suggestion a little bit,
consequently I welcomed it. It's very well to dance about and give
advice, quite another thing to do the work yourself; but I gleefully
stood aside while he grasped the starting-handle. It takes both strength
and knack to start that car, and he had neither. At first he couldn't
get the handle round against the compression; then, exerting himself
further, there came a terrific back-fire--the handle flew round, knocked
him off his feet, and sent him staggering, very pale, into the arms of a
white-aproned waiter. I couldn't help grinning, and I fancy Miss
Randolph hid a smile behind her handkerchief.
Eyelashes was furious. "It is a horror, that German machine!" he cried.
"Such a thing has no right to exist. Look at mine!" He darted to his
Pieper, gave one twist of the handle, and the motor instantly leaped
into life. Everyone murmured approval at this demonstration of the
superiority of France, or rather, Belgium, to Germany; but next moment I
had got our motor to start. The ladies dubiously took their places, and
under the critical dark eyes of Miss Barrow I steered out into the
streets of Blois.
I will spare you the detailed horrors of the next few hours. It seemed
to me that to keep that car going one must have the agility of a monkey,
the strength of a Sandow, and the resourcefulness of a Sherlock Holmes.
Almost everything went wrong that could go wrong. Both chains
snapped--that was trifling except for the waste of time, but finally the
exhaust-valve spring broke. It was getting dusk by this time, and to
replace that spring was one of the grisliest of my automobile
experiences. To get at it I had to lift off all the upper body of the
car and take out both the inlet and the exhaust valves. As darkness came
on, Miss Randolph (who took it all splendidly and laughed at our
misfortunes) held a lamp while I wrestled with the spring and valves.
The Frenchman, who had kept close to us on his irritatingly perfect
little Pieper, I simply used as a labourer, ordering him about as I
pleased--my one satisfaction. After an hour's work (much of the time on
my back under the car, with green oil dripping into my hair!) I got the
new spring on, and we could start again. Then--horror on horror's
head!--we had not gone two miles before I heard a strange clack! clack!
and looking behind, saw that one of the back tyres was loose, hanging to
the wheel in a kind of festoon, like a fat worm.
It was eight o'clock; we had lunched at one; the night was dark; we were
still miles short of Amboise; if the tyre came right off, it would be
awkward to run on the rim. I explained this, suggesting that we should
leave the car for a night at a farmhouse, which presumably existed
behind a high, glimmering white wall near which we happened to halt,
and try to get a conveyance of some sort to drive on to Amboise.
But I had calculated without Eyelashes. Instantly he saw his chance, and
seized it. Figuratively he laid his Pieper at the ladies' feet. To be
sure, it was built for only two, but the seat was very wide; there was
plenty of room; he would be only too glad to whirl them off to the most
comfortable hotel at Amboise, which could be reached in no time. As for
the _chauffeur_, he could be left to look after the car.
The _chauffeur_, however, did not see this in the same light. Not that
he minded the slight hardship, if any, but to see his liege lady whisked
off from under his eyes by the villain of the piece was too much.
Think how you would have felt in my place. But the hideous part was
that, like "A" in a "Vanity Fair" Hard Case, I could do nothing. The
proposal was vexatiously sensible, and I had to stand swallowing my
objections while Miss Randolph and her aunt decided.
I saw her move a step or two towards the Pieper silently, rather
gloomily, but Aunt Mary was grimly alert. Eyelashes had, I had learned
through snatches of conversation on board the car, been tactful enough
to present Aunt Mary with a little brooch and a couple of hat-pins of
the charming _faience_ made by a famous man in Blois. Intrinsically of
no great value, they rejoiced in ermine and porcupine crests, with
exquisitely coloured backgrounds, and the guileless lady's heart had
been completely won. She now emphatically voted for the Frenchman and
his car. But I have already noted a little peculiarity of Miss
Randolph's, which I have also observed in other delightful girls, though
none as delightful as she. If she is undecided about a thing, and
somebody else takes it for granted she is going to do it, she is
immediately certain that she never contemplated anything of the kind.
This welcome idiosyncrasy now proved my friend. "Why, Aunt Mary," she
exclaimed, "you wouldn't have me go off and desert my own car, _in the
middle of the night_ too? I couldn't think of such a thing. _You_ can go
with Monsieur Talleyrand, if you want to, but I shall stay here till
everything is settled."