. - 
 
 BLUE MOTOR 
 
 SIDNEY PATERNOSTER.
 
 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR
 
 of 
 
 Author of" The Motor Pirate? " The Cruise of the Motor- 
 Boat Conqueror" etc. 
 
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 Copyright, 1907, bj 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 All rights reserved 
 
 COLONIAL PRESS 
 
 Printed by C. H. Simends <V O. 
 
 Botton, U.S.A.
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 
 
 II. A NIGHT PURSUIT 
 
 III. AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS . 
 
 IV. I MEET THE LADY OF THE BLUE CAR 
 
 V. MY LADY MELODE 
 
 VI. A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 
 
 VII. ON A WINTER SEA 
 
 VIII. AN UNEXPECTED FAREWELL 
 
 IX. THE HISTORY OF A RING . 
 
 X. A RECOGNITION AT THE MORGUE 
 
 XI. THE HOUSE OF PHOTOGRAPHS 
 
 XII. THE GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS 
 
 XIII. THE BLUE CAR REAPPEARS 
 
 XIV. MY LADY MELOD AGAIN . 
 
 XV. THE TRYST BY THE RIVER . 
 
 XVI. DISILLUSIONED . . . . . 
 
 XVII. THE REBIRTH OF HOPE . 
 
 XVIII. A WILD IDEA 
 
 XIX. IN THE GUISE OF THE DEVIL 
 
 XX. GOLDEN DAYS 
 
 XXI. THE ELIMINATING TRIALS . 
 
 XXII. THE PLOT THICKENS 
 
 XXIII. MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 
 
 XXIV. THE RECKONING WITH M. LE COMTE D'HAUT- 
 
 VILLE . . . . . 
 
 XXV. BEFORE THE JUGE DESTRUCTION . . 
 
 XXVI. THE RACE FOR THE AMATEUR CUP 
 
 FAG3 
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 I8 S 
 196 
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 2137669
 
 The Lady of the Blue Motor 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 
 
 I BEGAN to live precisely at 3.45 P.M. on Christ- 
 mas Day of the year 190 . Now please do not mis- 
 take my meaning when I say that I commenced my 
 life on this date. I do not assert that I was born 
 then, for a reference to any of my friends would 
 at once demonstrate the falsity of the statement, 
 even if I were prepared to ask anyone to believe that 
 within a few hours of my birth I was able to take 
 part in an active adventure such as only occasionally 
 falls to the lot of man in these unromantic modern 
 days. What I wish to convey is that I, Geoffrey 
 Hardinge, after having existed for twenty-seven 
 years, began really and truly to live at the precise 
 moment I have mentioned, and the place of my vivi- 
 fication was the salon of the Hotel des Fontaines at 
 Versailles.
 
 2 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Let me recall the scene as it appeared to me at 
 3.44, when I entered the salon and ordered a cup 
 of tea. The long room, with its array of empty 
 tables, looked inexpressibly bare and cold, and the 
 two waiters who stood at one of the windows look- 
 ing out into the empty street were pictures of de- 
 jection. I ordered my tea, and with the assistance 
 of the second waiter divested myself of the couple 
 of coats I was wearing, before seating myself. The 
 waiter who had helped me was of a saturnine dis- 
 position, for he retired again to his window, and left 
 me to wonder what I was doing alone at Versailles 
 on Christmas Day. Truth to tell, I should have 'been 
 at a loss to give an adequate explanation had any- 
 one required it of me. It was a mere freak on my 
 part, born of ennui. I was staying in Paris for a 
 few days, preparatory to going south in search of 
 sunlight and a warmer atmosphere, and, after de- 
 jeuner, feeling a trifle hipped, I had ordered my car 
 round, in the hope that I might escape in it from 
 the blue-devils which I fancied were in pursuit of 
 me. I had started out alone, for Coles, my valet- 
 chauffeur, had met with a number of cosmopolitan 
 professional automobilists at the garage where my 
 car was stabled, and he had been eager, under their 
 guidance, to make acquaintance with Parisian life. 
 
 At first, my remedy for the blues promised to 
 be successful. The day was one of those clear, 
 bright days of winter which set the blood tingling
 
 THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 3 
 
 in the veins and produce a pleasantly exhilarating 
 sense of well-being in those strong enough to with- 
 stand the cold. A little snow had fallen during the 
 preceding night, and though it had blown away from 
 the surface of the road, it still clung to the grass 
 and trees, and produced a fairy winter landscape 
 to delight the eyes. I w r as well protected against 
 the cold by a fur coat, covered by a leather jacket, 
 and a heavy tweed overcoat on top of all, so that I 
 was able to enjoy the winter landscape without ex- 
 periencing any of the usually attendant discomforts. 
 
 When I started, I merely intended to content my- 
 self with an hour's spin in the Bois de Boulogne, 
 but after I had been round a couple of times without 
 recognising a familiar face, nor even resting my eyes 
 on a face that appealed to me, it suddenly occurred 
 to me that I should like to see what Versailles looked 
 like, set in a winter landscape. Following the im- 
 pulse, I passed through St. Cloud, and, after mak- 
 ing a solitary pilgrimage through the park, I ulti- 
 mately found myself a solitary visitor, sitting down 
 to a lonely cup of tea, at the Hotel des Fontaines. 
 
 When I entered the salon of the hotel I immedi- 
 ately regretted my decision to remain, even though 
 I knew from experience that nowhere in the world 
 could I get a better cup of tea I am a great tea- 
 drinker, by the way, and my palate is inexpressibly 
 shocked by the usual "Lipton" which the fair Pa- 
 risienne produces with such satisfaction for the de-
 
 4 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 lectation of her English visitors. But the sight of 
 the empty salon and the two gloomy-browed waiters 
 brought back the fee 1 ing of depression that I had 
 thought to have dispelled. A feeling of utter lone- 
 liness came upon me. I could think of no reason 
 for it. A day or two later I remembered that escar- 
 got had made one of the dishes at my mid-day meal, 
 but at the time this simple explanation did not occur 
 to my mind, and T was astonished at my depression. 
 I was accustomed to be alone. I did not suffer from 
 homesickness, for I knew no home and no home 
 knew me. If T had been in London I should have, 
 in all probability, been sitting down to a solitary 
 cup of tea at my chambers in Ryder Street, St. 
 James's, just as I was then doing in the salon of the 
 Hotel des Fontaines. In fact, I had fled from Lon- 
 don in order to escape the festive season, which held 
 nothing festive in association for me, with the result 
 that I was more passively miserable than I ever re- 
 membered to have been before, and thank Heaven ! 
 ever have been since. 
 
 Then something happened. I was sitting near 
 one of the windows, with my back to the entrance. 
 I heard the door open, and I also heard the rustle 
 of a skirt. I was looking at my watch, which was 
 lying open on the table before me at the moment, 
 and thus it is that I am enabled to record with abso- 
 lute accuracy the minute when I began to live. 
 
 Of course, I did not realise it at the time. One
 
 THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 5 
 
 does not spring full-fledged into comprehension of 
 the fact that one is alive, but I know now that 3.44 
 was the psychological moment. 
 
 I looked up as a lady passed me. She traversed 
 the full length of the salon and seated herself at 
 the table farthest from the one I occupied. Judging 
 from her attire, I concluded that she had arrived 
 at the hotel en automobile like myself, and her thick 
 fur coat and heavy motor veil effectually debarred 
 me from making even a guess at her age or appear- 
 ance. With the waiter's assistance she doffed the 
 coat, and I waited for the removal of the veil; but 
 seating herself, she gave an order in a voice that did 
 not reach me, and made no signs of unveiling. Every 
 moment I expected the door to open again and her 
 companion or companions to arrive, and I amused 
 myself by drawing imaginary pictures of them. Then 
 the waiter brought in her tea, and I observed with 
 surprise that he had brought a single cup. Clearly, 
 the lady had made an appointment, and was before 
 time; the mere fact that she did not raise her veil 
 above the tip of her nose seeming to me to be con- 
 firmation of my conjecture. 
 
 I began to feel interested in the stranger, perhaps 
 for the reason that now the heavy motor-coat was re- 
 moved I could see that her figure had the contours 
 of youth. Her mouth and chin, too, revealed the in- 
 describable freshness of the springtime of life. I 
 could conceive only one reason which should bring
 
 6 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 her to Versailles on a shrewd winter afternoon, and 
 almost unconsciously I began to envy the man whom 
 I expected shortly to join her. She glanced often 
 at a tiny watch she wore as a bracelet, and I remem- 
 ber thinking that the man who would keep a fair 
 friend waiting for him under such circumstances 
 was scarcely deserving of his good fortune. You see 
 I had already come to the conclusion that she must 
 be charming. Apparently quite unconscious of my 
 scrutiny, she next took a little book from her pocket 
 and scribbled something with a pencil on one of its 
 pages. Now, I thought, she is writing a note re- 
 proaching her lover for his failure to keep his ap- 
 pointment. She still waited, however, and I still 
 dallied with my tea in the hope that I should see 
 what manner of man could be so dilletante a lover. 
 When, about half an hour after her arrival, I saw 
 her rise and seek the assistance of the waiter to re- 
 sume her coat I was not greatly surprised, for she 
 had waited quite twenty minutes longer than I had 
 anticipated. I kept my seat as she came towards me, 
 but when, as she passed my table, she stumbled I 
 sprang to my feet. My assistance was not required, 
 for by laying her hand upon the table she prevented 
 herself from falling, and with a simple "Pardon, 
 m'sieu," she bowed slightly and passed on. My eyes 
 followed her to the door. "Curious," I muttered. "I 
 
 wonder " 
 
 At that instant I became conscious that a scrap
 
 THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 7 
 
 of paper, carefully folded, lay upon my table. It 
 had not been there before. Glancing round guiltily 
 to see whether I was observed, I unfolded the paper. 
 This is what I read : 
 
 "I know you are English, and I know that an 
 Englishman may be trusted to help a woman who 
 may need assistance. If I am right follow the blue 
 car." 
 
 I refolded the note deliberately and placed it in my 
 pocket. Follow the blue car? Of course I would 
 from one end of France to the other if it were need- 
 ful. Here at last was the beginning of what I had 
 looked forward to for years. Adventure ! Yes, here 
 was a real adventure at last. The sort of adventure 
 which had eluded my search on sea and on shore 
 ever since I had come to man's estate, the search for 
 which had set me wandering over the roads of 
 Europe like a twentieth century Don Quixote 
 mounted on a motor. Despite my previous ill suc- 
 cess, I had known that romance was not dead, and 
 now at last, when I had been far from expecting it, 
 my elusive quarry had come within my grasp. 
 
 Such were the thoughts bubbling in my brain 
 while I paid my bill and, putting on my wraps, 
 passed into the courtyard of the hotel. It might 
 have occurred to me that my high hopes might be 
 doomed to speedy disillusionment, that instead of go- 
 ing forth so gaily in search of romance I was merely 
 treading a well-worn path towards a commonplace
 
 8 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 and sordid intrigue, but I was too sanguine for any 
 such idea to enter my head. I stepped into the open 
 air gaily. 
 
 When I gained the yard the veiled lady was al- 
 ready seated in her car. I knew that she could be 
 no ordinary lady-automobilist, for, like myself, she 
 was alone and, unless I was very much mistaken, 
 the car was of a similar build to my own a four- 
 cylinder 6ohorse Mercedes instead of the dainty 
 toy car I had expected to see. I raised my cap as I 
 passed her to show that I accepted her trust. I 
 lighted my lamps, for the dusk was gathering fast, 
 and I took my seat. A moment later the blue car 
 glided out of the courtyard and with a preliminary 
 blast from the horn I followed. 
 
 The cars soon left the houses of Versailles be- 
 hind. My leader was not more than twenty yards 
 ahead, running on the lowest speed over a nice level 
 road, but as soon as she was clear of the streets the 
 veiled lady accelerated the pace. Following her ex- 
 ample I whipped in my third gear and so accurately 
 was the distance between the cars kept that I was 
 convinced that both cars had been built in the same 
 workshop in the same year. 
 
 We had the roads to ourselves and, as we 
 skimmed along in the gathering gloom, the snow- 
 draped trees slipped by like a procession of ghosts, 
 and I began to wonder whither I was bound. Then 
 my guide slackened speed and turned off sharply
 
 THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 9 
 
 upon a narrower road so shaded by an avenue that 
 I should have passed the junction with the highway 
 unobserved had I been driving alone. In the dark- 
 ness the bright lights of the blue car flickered ahead 
 like a will-o'-the-wisp, and I have no doubt that any 
 one in a normal condition would have considered my 
 following those dancing beams to have been as fatu- 
 ous a proceeding as the pursuit of a real marsh 
 candle. 
 
 Yet, extraordinary as it may appear, it seemed to 
 me to be the most natural thing in the world for me 
 to be following an unknown guide along unknown 
 roads to an unknown destination with an unknown 
 object. 
 
 The blue car turned again. I followed. Again 
 and yet again the car left one road for another, until 
 any idea I may have had as to our position was com- 
 pletely dissipated. Once or twice we had passed 
 through villages, but though I knew something of 
 the country around Paris, yet in the darkness I could 
 not recognise either of them. Thus we progressed 
 for an hour at least, until with a warning hoot from 
 the horn the leading car came to a stop under a high 
 wall and, turning in her seat, the veiled lady beck- 
 oned to me to approach. At last, thought I, I shall 
 learn something of the reason for these mysterious 
 proceedings, and I ran my Mercedes alongside the 
 car I had been following. 
 
 As my car came to a standstill the veiled lady
 
 10 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 bending towards me, remarked, "I cannot thank you 
 enough, Mr. Hardinge, for your response to my 
 strange request." 
 
 I am not a ready speaker at the best of times, and 
 this unexpected recognition of myself fairly took my 
 breath away, so that instead of saying the right thing 
 about my pleasure at being able to place my services 
 at her disposal I gasped out, "Why how the deuce? 
 I I beg your pardon but you know me?" 
 
 The unknown laughed. Her laugh, like her 
 speaking voice, was low-toned and sweet. It 
 thrilled me like well, once before I had experienced 
 a similar thrill, and that was when, shortly after 
 coming into possession of my first 6o-horse car, I 
 had found myself on a clear level road and, opening 
 the throttle of the engine, I had given it a full dose 
 of petrol. The laugh of the unknown thrilled me 
 even as on the occasion I have mentioned the music 
 of the winged spokes of the wheels beneath me, as 
 the milestones flitted by, had stirred my blood. 
 
 "Does not every automobilist who looks at the 
 automobile journals know the face of Mr. Geoffrey 
 Hardinge ?" she asked. 
 
 So that was the explanation. It was not unflat- 
 tering, and it restored to me my sense of what was 
 fitting. 
 
 "Let me assure you that Mr. Geoffrey Hardinge is 
 very much at your service," I answered, though I
 
 THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 11 
 
 am afraid that I mumbled the words in my mask, for 
 the unknown laughed again. 
 
 "I am more grateful than I can explain," she said, 
 "for I am afraid that I am going to make some de- 
 mands upon your good nature." She paused a mo- 
 ment before continuing, "There are few men I would 
 trust, and though I know your face you are a 
 stranger ' ; 
 
 I spoke up stoutly. "I think you may trust me." 
 
 "I think I may," she replied slowly, "I think I 
 may." Then, moving from the driver's seat, and 
 leaning over towards me, she laid her hand on my 
 arm and continued earnestly: "Can I trust you to 
 preserve absolute silence as to anything you may 
 witness to-night ? Can I trust you not only to keep 
 silence, but to make no effort to seek any explana- 
 tion of anything that may happen, nor attempt to 
 discover who the actors may happen to be?" 
 
 My native common sense had not quite deserted 
 me, for I hesitated before I answered diplomatically, 
 "Well, you see, madame, you have the advantage of 
 me in knowing who I am. Is it quite fair that I 
 shoiild be taken blindfold into something anything 
 
 which ?" I stumbled over the word criminal, 
 
 which was on the tip of my tongue, in a vain attempt 
 to express my meaning more delicately. 
 
 The unknown lady apprehended my meaning, 
 though I had not given the word utterance. 
 
 "I comprehend," she answered earnestly, "and
 
 1 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 believe me, Mr. Hardinge, I will ask you to do noth- 
 ing which may cost an honourable man's conscience 
 a single moment's uneasiness. Indeed I do not 
 ask you to do anything, only to be near me in case of 
 need." 
 
 She spoke with so perfect an accent of truth that 
 my reluctance to promise vanished. 
 
 "You may command me/' I said simply. 
 
 "Thank you," she murmured, "thank you" ; and, 
 changing the subject abruptly, she said, "Can you tell 
 me the time?" 
 
 I got at my watch with some difficulty and found 
 that the hands marked a few minutes to six. 
 
 "My anxiety has brought me to the rendezvous 
 too early," she said, "though I must not regret it, 
 since it has assured me of your assistance. Now," 
 she continued, "let me tell you all that I need you 
 to do." She raised her hand and pointed into the 
 darkness ahead. "About a couple of hundred yards 
 farther on, at six o'clock exactly, a passenger awaits 
 me. With that passenger I am returning to Paris." 
 
 "And you fear that he " I began. 
 
 She laughed again. "No, I have no fear of my 
 passenger," she remarked, "but we may be pursued. 
 If so I shall want you, if it is within your power, to 
 delay my pursuer. I do not think that anything can 
 catch me until I reach the barrier, and then if I can 
 get ten minutes' start I shall be safe. I want you to 
 ensure for me that ten minutes."
 
 THE BIRTH OF A ROMANCE 13 
 
 "And I shall never see you again?" The words 
 dropped from my lips involuntarily. 
 
 "Who knows?" she replied. "Only if we do meet 
 and you should recognise me, I shall depend upon 
 your forgetting that you ever followed a blue car 
 
 from Versailles to the " she stopped at the word 
 
 and left me as much in the dark as ever as to where 
 I was "and from thence to Paris. Promise me you 
 will forget," she demanded, with a pretty imperious- 
 ness which one associates with the demands of pretty 
 women. 
 
 "That were impossible," I answered, "though I 
 will promise to act as though I had forgotten." 
 
 I had barely heard her soft-spoken word of thanks 
 before she resumed her seat at the steering wheel 
 and, touching the starting lever, she glided away. I 
 followed twenty yards behind until the blue car 
 pulled up again opposite a pair of ornamental iron 
 gates. Even as the car stopped, the gates opened 
 and there passed through them a girl or woman, 
 heavily cloaked, and bearing in her hand a little box 
 or casket. She ran hastily to the car. 
 
 "He has returned, you must make haste, you must 
 make haste," she cried.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A NIGHT PURSUIT 
 
 WHEN I saw that another woman was to be the 
 veiled lady's travelling companion, I understood 
 why she had laughed when I had jumped to the con- 
 clusion that it was against the travelling companion 
 that she might need protection. The words spoken 
 by the newcomer also revealed to me that I might be 
 called upon to redeem my promise of assistance and 
 immediately I began to cudgel my brains as to what 
 course to adopt. I could think of nothing, though I 
 had very little time for thought, for as soon as the 
 woman who had come through the gate had clam- 
 bered into the car and wrapped herself in the rugs 
 my leader started her car and I followed her exam- 
 ple. When once we were moving I had something 
 else to think about than making plans for an emer- 
 gency which might not occur, for one's attention ir 
 pretty well occupied when following a 6ohorse car 
 running at top speed over roads one does not know, 
 and my leader travelled at a pace which, had I been 
 in front and on a track perfectly familiar to me, I 
 should have been loth to have set. 
 
 14
 
 A NIGHT PURSUIT 15 
 
 She must have excellent reasons for haste, I 
 concluded, as we bumped over the cobbled pavement 
 of some village or other without slackening pace, 
 merely announcing our advent with a blare of the 
 horns which, had anything been in our way, would 
 merely have served as a warning of the approach of 
 death, without giving time for the warning to be of 
 any service. 
 
 We had been moving for half an hour, perhaps, 
 when I became conscious of a light in the sky which 
 was absent when we started. It was the first signal 
 of the rising of the moon, and I thanked heaven that 
 I should be able to see a little more of the road than 
 hitherto, but even as the atmosphere became appre- 
 ciably lighter a big black mass gathered in front of 
 us and in a minute rushed down and swallowed us 
 up. We had plunged into a wood and the night 
 was darker than ever. I guessed where we were 
 now, however. I knew that in spite of all our turn- 
 ings we had been bearing eastwards and had struck 
 the forest of Fontainebleau, though at what particu- 
 lar portion I could not even guess. In a few more 
 minutes we emerged upon a road which, from its 
 breadth, as well as the line of telegraph poles, I knew 
 must be the highway, and, wheeling to the left, the 
 blue car swept on towards Paris. 
 
 Though our pace had been fast hitherto, consider- 
 ing the conditions under which we had been travel- 
 ling, it was as nothing to what was to follow. No
 
 16 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 sooner were we clear of the by-road than the driver 
 of the blue car shot away on her highest speed. N"ot 
 to be outdone, I followed suit, and the two big cars 
 flashed along as if engaged in a race. Indeed, I 
 could not help but give my admiration to the un- 
 known woman in front, whom now I could see 
 clearly in the moonlight, bending slightly over the 
 steering wheel, driving her big car with the precision 
 of an expert chauffeur and with a cool and reckless 
 daring that few men would have exhibited. 
 
 Thus we swept on until the feeble lights ahead 
 showed that we were approaching Paris, and my 
 leader, slackening speed for the first time, signalled 
 for me to approach. 
 
 I ran alongside and as I drew level I remarked, 
 "Not much chance of anything on wheels overtaking 
 you, madame." 
 
 "Perhaps not," she answered, "but nevertheless I 
 want you to ensure for me ten minutes' start at the 
 barrier. We shall be there directly." 
 
 I felt an unaccountable thrill of disappointment. 
 My adventure had provided me with a rare sensa- 
 tion, and I had not expected so tame an ending. Be- 
 sides, I wanted to know something more of the fair 
 automobilist who drove so admirably. Still I had 
 given my word, and there was nothing to be done but 
 to fulfil my promise. 
 
 "You may count on ten minutes," I answered.
 
 A NIGHT PURSUIT 17 
 
 "Then good-bye and thank you," she replied, and 
 once more slipped ahead. 
 
 I kept my distance until I came within sight of the 
 barrier, and then I regretfully slackened off and 
 stopped at one of the small petrol stores invariably to 
 be found outside the confines of the city. A plan had 
 occurred to me by which I might effectually detain 
 any other car which might be following upon our 
 track. So I had my tank filled and in addition I pur- 
 chased two additional cans of petrol, though I knew 
 very well that I could only claim to take in one duty 
 free. The purchase did not take more than three 
 or four minutes, and I had just resumed my seat 
 when I thought I heard the sounds of the approach 
 of another car. I started my engine and made for 
 the barrier, where a couple of sleepy-looking offi- 
 cials awaited my arrival. The blue car was al- 
 ready out of sight, for the men, with the native po- 
 liteness of their race, had passed the lady motorist 
 with a merely formal examination. As I neared the 
 gate I made the car swerve, and stopping just as it 
 came diagonally across the road made it impossible 
 for anything bigger than a bath chair to pass on 
 either side. 
 
 No sooner was I in this position than the brilliant 
 headlights of another car came into view behind, 
 and a moment or two later it thundered up and 
 stopped a couple of yards behind me. The new ar- 
 rival was evidently in a hurry and I had not long
 
 18 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 to wait before ascertaining that this was the pur- 
 suer whom the veiled lady had wished to escape, for 
 he shouted an inquiry as to whether a car with two 
 ladies on board had passed the barrier. The octroi 
 men, however, were too busy attending to me to 
 pay attention to his query. They had compared my 
 permit with the quantity of petrol I carried and were 
 busy in explaining to me that I must pay duty on the 
 excess. I pretended not to understand them. They 
 gesticulated. I also gesticulated. They grew angry 
 when they learned from my gestures that I had no 
 intention of paying. They bawled at me in French. 
 I shouted at them in English. Meanwhile the new- 
 comer demanded that he should be attended to and 
 allowed to pass. I alighted and continued the con- 
 versation, paying no attention to his energetic de- 
 mand. I should possibly have filled up the whole 
 of the ten minutes in this fashion had not the pur- 
 suer left his car and joined us. He evidently as- 
 sumed that I was an Englishman unacquainted with 
 the French language, and perceived that his only 
 means of getting on his way would be to act as inter- 
 preter between myself and the declamatory officials. 
 "Pardon, m'sieu," he said in very good English, 
 "you seem to be in some difficulty. May I be per- 
 mitted to give you assistance?" There was a trace 
 of a foreign accent in his voice, which was that of 
 a cultivated gentleman, while its tone was decidedly 
 musical.
 
 A NIGHT PURSUIT 19 
 
 "Thank you, sir," I replied. "It is very good of 
 you. I cannot in the least make out what these beg- 
 gars want. I am taking in exactly the same amount 
 of petrol as I took out with me this afternoon, as 
 you can see." 
 
 I handed him my receipt, and he took it to the 
 light of my head lamp to read. He lifted his goggles 
 on to his cap for the purpose and I had a glimpse of 
 his face. When I saw it I confess I was puzzled 
 why any one should ever attempt to escape from 
 him. It was an undeniably handsome face. The 
 clear straight eyebrows, the thin aquiline nose, the 
 clear-cut lips from which the dark moustache was 
 carefully brushed back, the well modelled chin 
 adorned with a slight imperial, were each of them so 
 many testimonials to breeding. The expression on 
 his features was simply an expression of tender mel- 
 ancholy. Altogether I was favourably impressed 
 by what I saw and I was half inclined to make way 
 for him, he seemed so inoffensive a creature. But 
 when he lifted his eyes from the paper and cast a 
 glance at me I saw in them more than was revealed 
 in all the rest of the face. I was glad that the mask 
 I was wearing shielded me from observation. 
 
 He handed my paper back to me with the remark, 
 "If you took out two cans of petrol, m'sieu, the 
 octroi only credited you with one. I see you did not 
 leave Paris by this route." There was a ring of sus-
 
 picion in his voice that warned me I had better be on 
 my guard. 
 
 "No, I got lost," I said. "I know about as much 
 of the environs of Paris as I do of French. I sup- 
 pose I had better pay." 
 
 "Certainly, unless you desire to remain here and 
 argue the matter for the rest of the night. Mean- 
 while I must beg of you to make way for me, as I 
 am in a great hurry to overtake some friends of 
 mine who are a little way ahead. Perhaps you can 
 inform me whether a blue car with some ladies 
 aboard has passed this way?" 
 
 "No," I answered; "the road was empty when I 
 arrived and no one has passed since. But I shall 
 make way with great pleasure." 
 
 I sprang into my car and laid my hand on the 
 starting lever. The octroi men, evidently mistrust- 
 ing my intention, immediately seized the two petrol 
 cans, and, simulating anger, I jumped again to the 
 ground and, unbuttoning my coat, produced a ten 
 louis piece. This necessitated their bringing me 
 change from the office, and when ultimately I glided 
 off triumphantly it was with the consciousness that 
 I had amply fulfilled my promise, for instead of ten 
 minutes I had given the fugitives a clear quarter of 
 an hour's start. 
 
 I started leisurely, and within a minute the pur- 
 suer thundered past. Then I quickened my pace in 
 order to keep him in view. Something might have
 
 A NIGHT PURSUIT 21 
 
 happened to delay the blue car, in which case I yet 
 might be of further assistance to the mysterious lady 
 who had bespoken my assistance. It was not easy 
 to keep on the track of the pursuer, for now that we 
 entered Paris the traffic interpolated continuous ob- 
 stacles. Yet I managed to do so somehow and after 
 a while I followed the stranger's car into the Gare 
 du Nord, arriving just as he alighted and entered the 
 station. Leaving my own car with the engine run- 
 ning I followed him and I was rewarded with the 
 sight of him standing on the departure platform and 
 stamping his foot with vexation at some information 
 which had just been communicated to him by a 
 porter. 
 
 Clearly the veiled lady and her companion had 
 made good their escape. That was all the informa- 
 tion I should have been likely to gain and, realising 
 that if their pursuer were to recognise my presence 
 at the station he might connect me with the matter, 
 I returned to my car and in a few more minutes 
 wheeled it into the garage of the Grand Hotel, where 
 I was stopping at the time.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 
 
 COINCIDENTLY with the housing of my car I was 
 awakened by certain inward qualms to the fact that 
 I had lunched very early, and glancing at my watch 
 I saw that my dinner hour was already past. I hur- 
 ried off to my room for a change and wash, and 
 while I performed my hasty toilet I had time to 
 think. But the more I pondered upon the events of 
 the afternoon the more puzzled I became as to the 
 meaning of the game in which I had taken a hand. 
 Rack my brains as I would, I could find no satis- 
 factory theory to explain the riddle, while my prom- 
 ise forbade my making any enquiries which should 
 help to satisfy my curiosity. That curiosity was to 
 be still further taxed, for, though I knew it not, only 
 a few hours were to elapse before I heard again of 
 the mysterious lady of the blue car and was once 
 more involved in an affair which could only add to 
 my bewilderment. 
 
 I was not anticipating anything of the kind when, 
 my toilet completed, I strolled out of the Grand en- 
 trance. I had achieved a considerable appetite, yet
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 23 
 
 despite it I dropped into a seat outside the Cafe la 
 Paix and ordered an absinthe. Heaven knows I 
 needed no appetiser, and when I emerged from the 
 hotel it had been my intention to go straight to one 
 of my favourite restaurants. Indeed, I had only left 
 the hotel to dine because I had observed that a huge 
 Christmas tree was erected in the hotel dining room, 
 and that, together with the crowded condition of the 
 room, threatened me with a shadow of the festivities 
 which I had fled from in London. The fact was that 
 even this glimpse of Christmas had brought back to 
 me the melancholy strain of thought which had been 
 forgotten in the excitement of the afternoon adven- 
 ture, and I trusted to the inspiration of the absinthe 
 to relieve me from a renewal of the gloom. 
 
 It had the opposite effect. Christmas has a mean- 
 ing for some people, to me it had none at least none 
 that I wished to dwell upon. As a child I never had 
 a chance of learning its happy import, and I had al- 
 ways been frankly envious of those who had learned 
 of its magic who were fortunate enough to have all 
 sorts of delightful visions awakened by the mention 
 of the season. My life, so it seemed to me, discon- 
 tented ass that I was, had been more than commonly 
 lonely. While I sipped my absinthe, looking with 
 vacant eyes upon the shifting crowd on the boule- 
 vard, the past came back to me. Holiday times had 
 all been dull and of them Christmas had been the 
 dullest. I remembered a string of Christmases, and
 
 24 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 they had been all alike just an extra Sunday, with 
 an additional dinner to take the place of evening serv- 
 ice. There was my father at one end of the table 
 and myself at the other, with Josiah to pour out my 
 one glass of champagne. I do not blame my father 
 that I retained no pleasant memories of these solemn 
 functions. He was so immersed in his business that 
 it was really the only occasion during the year when 
 we were together for any length of time, while his 
 youth had been left so far behind him that he could 
 hardly have been blamed for forgetting what ap- 
 pealed to a boy. If I had had brothers or sisters 
 no doubt things would have been vastly different, but 
 I had neither, and my mother had died so soon after 
 my birth that I had no recollection of her. Even so 
 much of Christmas as had been mine on this annual 
 occasion of my dining with my father had been taken 
 from me when I was sixteen, for then, dying, he left 
 me quite alone in the world. I have no doubt he 
 thought he had done his duty by leaving me very 
 well provided for. Poor old governor, I fancy he 
 cherished hopes that I should carry on his business 
 and looked forward to the time when he should re- 
 tire in my favour. I believe that he might have had 
 his wish but for the fact that he religiously dosed 
 himself with his own wares he made all his money 
 out of a widely advertised patent pill. 
 
 Curious thoughts those to indulge in outside the 
 Cafe la Paix on a Christmas night, you may think,
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 25 
 
 especially as the boulevards were thronged, for it 
 was a dry, crisp night, but the fact remains that they 
 did occupy my brain to the exclusion even of the 
 thought of dinner. 
 
 I was awakened from my reverie by a very unex- 
 pected incident. Two chairs were placed at the little 
 table at which I had seated myself and, almost un- 
 noticed by me, the vacant seat was appropriated. I 
 fancy the intruder would have escaped my attention 
 entirely had he not raised his hat before seating him- 
 self. I just glanced at him, for I thought some ac- 
 quaintance had recognised me. I had just decided 
 that his face was not that of any one I knew, when 
 my memory awoke actively. There opposite me was 
 the man whose face I had seen an hour or two earlier 
 in the evening by the light of my Bleriot lamp at the 
 barriers of Paris. As I acknowledged his greeting in 
 silence, I at once jumped to the conclusion that his 
 presence at my table was due to this recognition of 
 myself as the automobilist who had delayed him at 
 the barrier. A second glance at his face reassured 
 me. It was quite impassive. After all, his salute had 
 been a mere formal courtesy to a complete stranger. 
 A moment's consideration assured me that I had lit- 
 tle reason to suspect that he could have guessed at my 
 identity. Swathed in thick overcoats, with my cap 
 pulled down over my ears and a mask covering the 
 greater part of my face, I could have ventured to 
 defy recognition even of my closest acquaintances.
 
 26 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Reassured as to the accidental nature of this second 
 meeting, I had time for a closer scrutiny of the 
 stranger than had been afforded me at the barrier. 
 As I have already said, his face might have been 
 termed handsome. Yet though I could find no par- 
 ticular feature in it with which to quarrel, there was 
 something about it which seemed antipathetic to me, 
 as of a shadow of something evil marring its good 
 qualities. Probably this conclusion was mere preju- 
 dice on my part, for though, since then, I have dis- 
 cussed the question with dozens of people who have 
 known him, nobody has ever shared my impression. 
 At first glance one only read in his countenance a 
 gentle melancholy which was partly due perhaps to 
 his greying hair, the drooping moustache, and the set 
 of his lips. This appearance of melancholy was, 
 however, merely characteristic of his face in repose, 
 as I discovered a moment later. 
 
 He had ordered coffee with some liqueur or other, 
 and while he sipped his refreshment one of the toy 
 merchants planted himself before us and endeav- 
 oured to unload upon me a sample of his wares. The 
 fellow's patter was so amusing that I was con- 
 strained into making a purchase, and when he moved 
 on to another possible customer, the stranger re- 
 marked, "You would not find that man's counterpart 
 in London if you were to search for a month." 
 
 "No," I replied, "our street merchants are too
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 27 
 
 heavily loaded with the burden of existence to be 
 
 gay." 
 
 "A fault of your whole nation, if you will permit 
 me to say so," he replied, and his face lightened with 
 a charming smile. 
 
 "You seem to have no hesitation as to guessing at 
 my nationality," I remarked. 
 
 "Not the slightest," he said, lighting a cigarette 
 with perfect nonchalance. "The nationality of Mr. 
 Geoffrey Hardinge is surely known to every one in 
 the motoring world, even as the risks he is quixotic 
 enough to incur on the road are the despair of his 
 well-wishers." 
 
 I rose and bowed, eyeing him keenly the while. 
 Was there a hidden meaning in his words ? Had he, 
 after all, identified me with the motorist who had de- 
 layed him at the barrier ? But there was no indica- 
 tion of anything of the sort in his glance. \ 
 
 "You have the advantage of me," I said. 
 
 He finished his coffee and rose to his feet. "If 
 you are wise you will permit me to retain that ad- 
 vantage," he replied. "I would merely wish you to 
 know me as a nameless friend who would warn you 
 that your English desire to be of assistance to veiled 
 ladies might happen to produce disastrous results." 
 
 Again his countenance was irradiated with a 
 smile. I was about to blurt out some hasty reply 
 when he stopped me with a gesture. "Permit me. 
 My warning is in your own interests. You have in- 
 
 \
 
 28 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 terfered in a matter which closely concerns me, pos- 
 sibly through ignorance as to the consequences of 
 your action. I accept the excuse." 
 
 "I am ready to accept any responsibility for my 
 actions," I answered hastily, for I had no mind to 
 make excuse to any man. 
 
 "I am always ready to pardon a wrong committed 
 in ignorance," he continued airily, "and your facq 
 has already excused you by telling me that you know 
 absolutely nothing of the details of the little affair in 
 which you intervened. Be content with the mischief 
 you have wrought, for" he flicked the ash from his 
 cigarette "I could not twice pass over outside in- 
 terference in my affairs. I wish you good evening, 
 m'sieu," and, raising his hat, he stepped on to the 
 pavement and in a few seconds was lost to sight in 
 the crowd. 
 
 I was far too bewildered to do anything for a 
 minute at least. The recognition of myself as the 
 person who had thwarted his pursuit, just when I 
 had arrived at the self-satisfying assurance that 
 recognition had been impossible, left me speechless, 
 even if I could have found anything to say in de- 
 fence of my action. And what could I have said? 
 What right had I to intervene in private affairs of 
 total strangers? The manner of the stranger's re- 
 buke had been such that I was bound to admit that 
 right had been entirely on his side and that from his 
 point of view I deserved the rebuke. Yet I knew;
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 29 
 
 very well that if I were appealed to again under sim- 
 ilar circumstances I should act in precisely the same 
 fashion. I knew, too, that for the chance of hearing 
 once again the sweet voice of the unknown lady I 
 should not hesitate about disregarding the warning 
 which had been given me. Perhaps all the more be- 
 cause of the warning should I be tempted to meddle 
 in affairs which concerned me nothing at all. 
 
 While seeking excuse for myself the stranger had 
 disappeared, and no sooner did I realise this fact 
 than I awoke to the consciousness that I had allowed 
 the only chance of learning anything of the mysteri- 
 ous lady I was likely to get to slip away from me. I 
 rose hastily from my seat and followed him. He 
 had crossed the road, going in the direction of the 
 Boulevard des Italiens. 
 
 It was a useless quest. I might just as well have 
 set out on a search for the proverbial needle, for all 
 the chance I had of meeting him again. The light- 
 hearted crowd that thronged the boulevards had 
 swallowed him up, and I had not traversed fifty 
 yards before I realised the futility of my pursuit and 
 cursed myself for having allowed him to depart un- 
 questioned. 
 
 The warmth of my self-condemnation surprised 
 myself. After all, I moralised, there was no need 
 for me to lose my temper, and the realisation that I 
 had lost it carried with it recognition of the reason. 
 It was now close on nine o'clock, and I had eaten
 
 30 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 nothing since dejeuner at twelve. It is a sorry con- 
 fession to make, but I may as well admit that I am 
 one of those unfortunate beings who do happen to 
 get short-tempered when they are hungry. It was a 
 state of things very easy to remedy, however, and so 
 in a few minutes I was seated at a table and putting 
 an additional edge upon a healthy appetite by a 
 judicious selection from the hors-d'ceuvres presented 
 to me. 
 
 I dined well, and when an hour later I went out 
 again into the night I could and did view the events 
 of the day through the rosy light of a very excellent 
 bottle of Pommard. The streets were fuller than 
 ever, and for a while I strolled aimlessly along, pay- 
 ing little attention to the direction in which I was 
 going and quite content to be a unit of the throng. 
 Ultimately I saw the lights of the Moulin Rouge be- 
 fore me. I had no desire to enter that resort of the 
 British tourist, but I was in that comfortable after- 
 dinner state in which a little light entertainment ap- 
 pears a very desirable thing, so I made my way to 
 the Cafe du Quatz' Arts close at hand. There I knew 
 I should be certain to be amused, even if the enter- 
 tainment should not prove to be of a very elevating 
 character. 
 
 I entered the cafe, passing through to the inner 
 room, which w^as much fuller than I anticipated, so 
 crowded indeed that I had some difficulty in finding 
 a seat.
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 31 
 
 Here, in order that my readers may understand 
 an incident that was shortly to occur, let me describe 
 the arrangement of the room I entered. Imme- 
 diately to the left of the entrance was a platform 
 raised a few inches from the ground. Upon this 
 platform was a piano, and seated at the instrument 
 was a woman idly striking a chord now and again 
 as she chatted to a man standing beside her. By 
 this arrangement of the platform the whole of the 
 audience was seated facing the entrance, so that a 
 late comer had to face the scrutiny of two or three 
 hundred pairs of eyes. The apartment was a long 
 one, the walls were covered with the grotesque 
 imaginings of a generation of artists and the air was 
 thick with tobacco smoke. 
 
 I found a seat in the fourth row of chairs, ordered 
 the bock which entitled me to my seat and purchased 
 a programme from the misshapen dwarf who was 
 the pride of the establishment, and whose form and 
 features had supplied the model for many of the 
 artistic studies which decorated the walls. By the 
 time my bock was brought to me the door was 
 closed, the man on the platform faced the audience 
 and announced the title of the song he proposed to 
 sing. The chatter of the audience gave place to a 
 hush of expectancy. I remember that I was looking 
 at the pianiste, whose clear, colourless complexion 
 was like dead white marble against her large black 
 eyes and her thick black hair dressed low over her
 
 32 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 ears, and wondering whether she would outlive the 
 winter, when there came a sudden interruption. The 
 door was thrown open and a feminine voice ex- 
 claimed in surprised accents, "Oh ! Bon jour, 
 m'sieu!" 
 
 Naturally every eye was turned to the door, and 
 it was equally natural in that company that every 
 voice should echo the greeting. A veritable babel 
 of "Bon jour, m'selle," met her as she stood in the 
 doorway, and then everyone looked round to see for 
 whom the greeting had been intended. She stood in 
 the doorway only a few seconds, for the artists of the 
 Quatz' Arts do not submit to divided attention and 
 the doors are religiously closed between the songs. 
 She stepped back, the door swung to, and the song 
 proceeded. 
 
 The song was an amusing one, but all the same I 
 was glad when it came to an end, for I was in hopes 
 that when the doors reopened some little drama 
 of real life might be enacted for my amusement with 
 the re-entry of the girl who had been surprised into 
 the exclamation. She was to all appearances a little 
 grisette, not quite of the cocotte type, and I judged 
 that she must have recognised some former lover in 
 the audience. I never for one moment dreamed that 
 her presence there could in any way be due to me. 
 But when the applause burst out upon the completion 
 of the song, and the door being reopened the girl 
 entered, she came straight to where I was sitting,
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 33 
 
 and, plumping herself full on my knee, she threw her 
 arms round my neck and saluted me with a hearty 
 kiss. 
 
 I do not think that many men have been placed in 
 such a predicament and I should like to know from 
 my readers how they would have acted under the 
 circumstances. To be suddenly pounced upon and 
 kissed by an unknown girl before two or three hun- 
 dred people is surely sufficient to upset the balance of 
 any man. When it is further remembered that the 
 onlookers were of Paris Parisian, that they were at 
 an entertainment more noted for its wit than its pro- 
 priety, and that every one of them had some remark 
 to make upon the heartiness of the greeting accorded 
 me, it may be possible to picture my embarrassment. 
 I could only conceive that I was the victim of a mis- 
 taken identity or had been suddenly appropriated by 
 a madwoman, and I wondered whether I had not 
 better free myself by main force from the arms 
 which encircled my neck rather than suffer the em- 
 brace until opportunity arose for a quiet explanation. 
 
 I did not need to cogitate long. The girl allowed 
 her head to droop on my shoulder and as her lips 
 reached the level of my ear she whispered, "M'sieu 
 Geoffray Hardinge?" giving my name a purely 
 French pronunciation. 
 
 The start I gave nearly upset the chair upon which 
 I was seated in spite of its double load. 
 
 "Sh sh !" she said softly, and her clasp tightened
 
 34 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 round my neck. "Do not move,'' she continued in 
 broken English, "I have to bring you to M'selle of 
 the Blue Car." 
 
 The occupants of the crowded room danced round 
 me in a wild phantasmagoria. The smoke wreaths 
 shaped themselves into grinning faces. The notes of 
 the piano jangled some unknown bizarre melody. 
 
 "You mus' put your arm round me," whispered 
 the voice and I obeyed. "And speak you la 
 Frangais." 
 
 Then she raised her head from my shoulder and 
 gave me an opportunity to recover my scattered 
 senses. Poising herself on my knee and placing one 
 hand on each of my shoulders she addressed me with 
 a torrent of words in her own tongue. In a couple 
 of minutes I learned more about myself than I had 
 ever suspected. I learned, for instance, that I was 
 that unknown girl's own Jules that she would 
 never forgive herself for her cruelty to me that 
 she was faithful, indeed she would kill herself rather 
 than take another lover that she would die if I did 
 not return to her that I must forgive her that very 
 instant. 
 
 I forgave her amid the applause of the members of 
 the audience near enough to hear what passed. 
 
 She would never, never leave me again. Her eyes 
 had not been dry for two weeks she was grown so 
 thin that she would be ashamed before me. 
 
 Her frankness was so appalling that I hastened to
 
 AT THE CAFE DU QUATZ ARTS 35 
 
 stop further remarks by suggesting that we were in- 
 terrupting the progress of the entertainment. She 
 seemed to appreciate the force of my remarks and, 
 rising, I tucked her hand under my arm and made 
 for the door. Our exit was triumphal and the bravas 
 and the laughter still rang in our ears, even when we 
 had passed through the cafe and stood on the pave- 
 ment outside. 
 
 The crisp cold air blowing upon my face seemed 
 to restore to me my self-possession. I turned to my 
 companion. "Now will you please explain to me the 
 reason for this remarkable behaviour?" I asked. 
 
 "There is no time to waste," she replied. "The 
 night is passing and m'selle bade me bring you early. 
 Will m'sieu please to call a fiacre."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 I MEET THE LADY OF THE BLUE CAR 
 
 I WAS in two minds about doing as I was bidden. 
 My natural cautiousness was at war with my desire 
 to hear once again the sound of the voice of which I 
 cherished so pleasant a recollection. Nor was I des- 
 titute of curiosity as to the meaning of this sudden 
 desire for my society on the part of unknown 
 persons. 
 
 "Surely, m'sieu is not to be so ungallant as to re- 
 fuse a lady's invitation," remarked my companion 
 reproachfully. 
 
 The question decided me. I beckoned a passing 
 cab. "Where to?" I asked without further parley. 
 
 "The Quai d'Auteuil," was the answer. 
 
 "Why, that must be right at the other end of 
 Paris," I objected as the cab drew up at the curb. 
 
 "I take you to the very last house inside the bar- 
 rier," said the girl demurely, as she stepped into the 
 vehicle. "If m'sieu had only his automobile m'selle 
 would be better pleased that she was not so long kept 
 waiting. Make the cocker to understand that he 
 must drive fast." 
 
 36
 
 Again I hesitated. What if some plot were afoot 
 to lure me into the hands of some band of despera- 
 does? But the thought was dismissed almost as 
 swiftly as it had entered my brain. I could not im- 
 agine the lady who had sought my assistance to be a 
 member of a criminal gang. I gave the driver the 
 address and a half louis piece as an earnest of the 
 pourboire he might expect if he would drive his 
 hardest, and jumping into the cab, I closed the door. 
 
 I had never imagined that any cab horse in Paris 
 could have got over the ground at the pace at which 
 the animal in the shafts of that cab did. We rattled 
 and bumped and swayed and heaved, much to the 
 apparent terror of my companion, who gripped my 
 arm tightly with both hands and gave a shriek every 
 time we swerved round a corner. I had expected to 
 have obtained some sort of explanation as soon as 
 we were alone together, but the rattle made by the 
 cab as we went over the stones at a hand gallop made 
 it impossible for us to exchange a word. Such a 
 pace could not last, of course, and when a little later 
 the driver's first enthusiasm had to some degree 
 evaporated and we were at the same time traversing 
 a smoother road, I turned to my companion and re- 
 marked, "Now, may I ask the meaning of this non- 
 sense?" 
 
 "Indeed I should be most happy to tell, m'sieu, but 
 I know nothing myself," was the astonishing re- 
 sponse.
 
 38 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Know nothing?" I repeated incredulously. "You 
 know nothing?" 
 
 "M'sieu doubts me, but indeed I know nothing ex- 
 cept that I make a guess that m'sieu can ask the 
 question of his heart and find a pleasant answer." 
 
 There was a tinkle in her voice which sounded 
 like laughter and led me to discount her pretence of 
 ignorance. I wished that there had been light 
 enough for me to have seen by the expression of her 
 face how far she was telling me the truth. 
 
 "At least you can tell me how it happened that 
 you singled me out from the crowd in the Quatz' 
 Arts, and how you knew that I was there?" I asked. 
 
 "And with pleasure, m'sieu," she replied promptly. 
 "I had asked for m'sieu at the Grand Hotel earlier 
 in the evening and it was even as I made enquiry 
 that m'sieu passed me. 'See, that is M'sieu Geoffray 
 Hardinge,' said the commissionaire, and I made 
 haste to follow. But m'sieu takes long steps and my 
 feet go but slowly. I felt that I should need to run 
 and make a scene in the street, but as m'sieu passed 
 under the archway of the hotel I saw that he was fol- 
 lowed, so I waited." 
 
 "Followed?" I queried in surprise. 
 
 "The gentleman who sat with m'sieu outside the 
 Cafe la Paix was watching m'sieu, and I had been 
 warned not to communicate with m'sieu if the dark 
 gentleman was anywhere near." 
 
 "Then you know him ; who is he ?" I asked.
 
 I MEET LADY OF THE BLUE CAR 39 
 
 "M'mselle will doubtless inform m'sieu," an- 
 swered the girl. "M'sieu will forgive me that I am 
 forbidden to speak his name." 
 
 "Well, continue," I answered resignedly. 
 
 "And with pleasure," she continued. "Seeing 
 that m'sieu was watched I did not approach him. 
 Then, when the dark gentleman left him, I saw that 
 there was another man watching m'sieu. Ciel ! It 
 was a great amusement. There was m'sieu the 
 mouse and the cat watching him and I watching the 
 cat, while m'sieu dined and walked. Indeed, not 
 until he entered the Quartz' Arts did m'sieu's shadow 
 leave him." 
 
 "Really, I had not the slightest idea that I was be- 
 ing shadowed," I said. 
 
 "It is strange that m'sieu should be unaware that 
 he is of so much interest to so many people, then," re- 
 marked the girl archly. "He has not thought that if 
 he had made an impression other people may see in 
 him a rival." The girl stopped. 
 
 "Nonsense," I said, though my pulse began to 
 beat a little more quickly. 
 
 "M'sieu is modest surely, though no doubt he 
 knows best," replied the girl demurely. 
 
 "Of course I know best," I answered a little 
 sharply. Then I was silent awhile and my com- 
 panion also was silent until I set her tongue wagging 
 by means of another question.
 
 "What made you accost me in such an outrageous 
 fashion ?" I asked. 
 
 "M'sieu has pardoned me, has he not?" she asked, 
 and again I detected the tinkle of laughter in her 
 voice. "Consider, m'sieu, for one moment my diffi- 
 culty. I enter the room and it is full of eyes look- 
 ing at me. I see m'sieu, but he knows me not, and I 
 have to attract his attention. Suppose that I had en- 
 tered quietly. There was no seat vacant by m'sieu's 
 side. If I had spoken to him he would have told me 
 to go away, and how terrible that would have been 
 under the gaze of all those eyes. It was of necessity 
 that I embraced m'sieu, that I might whisper my 
 message in his ear." 
 
 "You are a forward little hussy," I remarked. 
 
 "Hussee? Hussee? What is that?" she asked. "Is 
 it to be glad to sit on the knee of m'sieu? If it is so 
 I should like to be hussee once again." 
 
 She placed her hand on my arm again. I made no 
 response. Then she sighed and said softly, "Ah! 
 M'sieu is very handsome and m'selle is very fortu- 
 nate." 
 
 I will not excuse myself for what followed. Her 
 hand was a little one and we were both young. She 
 was pretty, too, with the piquant prettiness of her 
 class. Besides, I thought a little familiarity might 
 assist me to obtain some information which might 
 prove useful and, well
 
 I MEET LADY OF THE BLUE CAR 41 
 
 "It is nice to be a hussee," she remarked a minute 
 later. 
 
 She chattered away merrily, but any anticipations 
 I had formed as to getting any information were 
 doomed to disappointment. She brushed aside any 
 attempts I made to obtain enlightenment with an 
 ease which either proved that I was one of the clum- 
 siest of diplomats or that she was one of the clever- 
 est. At last I asked her point blank whom I was 
 going to see, and her only reply was, "M'sieu will 
 learn in good time, and it is very cruel of m'sieu to 
 remind me that the end of our drive will come so 
 soon." 
 
 The end of our journey did in fact come much 
 sooner than I anticipated, for my companion was un- 
 deniably sprightly, and before I had imagined that 
 we were more than half way to our destination the 
 fiacre stopped and we had arrived. I assisted my 
 companion to alight, and as I did so asked whether 
 I should keep the driver to take me home. 
 
 "M'sieu's modesty is overwhelming," she an- 
 swered, ''or does m'sieu really propose to keep him 
 waiting until to-morrow ?" 
 
 There was no mistaking the inuendo, and with my 
 blood tingling in my veins I handed the driver a 
 pourboire which would have satisfied the most rapa- 
 cious of his class and followed my guide. 
 
 The cab had drawn up outside a large six-storied 
 building, which had nothing between it and the
 
 42 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Seine but the road and the wall of the embankment. 
 A few doors away the lights of a cabaret gave the 
 only semblance of life to the deserted Quai. 
 
 "This way, m'sieu," said the girl. 
 
 I followed her round the angle of the building 
 until we came to a door shrouded in darkness. The 
 door was unfastened, so we entered without the ne- 
 cessity of disturbing the concierge. 
 
 "If m'sieu will place his hand on my arm he will 
 not fall and m'selle's apartment is at the top," said 
 the girl as we stepped inside the doorway. 
 
 I did not quite like blundering blindfold into a 
 strange house, for the stair was unlighted, but I did 
 not contemplate drawing back. 
 
 "As if one need a light where m'selle leads," I re- 
 plied with a laugh. 
 
 "Sh," she answered. "Aliens!" 
 
 Those stairs seemed in the darkness a veritable 
 Eiffel tower, and I was breathless when my guide 
 paused and I heard her groping for a lock with a 
 key. 
 
 "We are at home," she said. "Permit me first to 
 enter." 
 
 The door opened and I followed her into the tiny 
 hall of a small flat. As we entered, a voice cried 
 from a room within, "Is that you, Lucille?" 
 
 I recognised the voice instanter. I could never 
 have mistaken the voice of the lady of the blue car 
 whose flight I had covered earlier in the day.
 
 I MEET LADY OF THE BLUE CAR 43 
 
 "Yes, m'selle," replied the girl, "and m'sieu ac- 
 companies me." She turned to me. "M'selle pre- 
 fers to greet you alone." She indicated a half-open 
 door on the right of the hall, and passing through a 
 similar door exactly opposite to it on the left she dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 There seemed something uncanny in the absolute 
 silence which seemed suddenly to descend upon the 
 house. My heart began to thump heavily it was 
 not with fear. 
 
 I pushed open the door and entered. I found my- 
 self in a long, low-ceiled apartment, furnished with a 
 sort of shabby splendour as if with the discarded 
 lumber of a palace. I only noticed the furniture be- 
 cause it formed so strange a contrast with the one oc- 
 cupant. When my eyes rested upon the picture I had 
 no desire to bestow attention upon the frame. I saw 
 a girl woman slender and fair, sitting in a Louis 
 XV chair from which the gilt was peeling and the 
 tapestry frayed away. A sable toque was laid on the 
 table beside her and a sable cloak had dropped into 
 a heap on the floor at her feet. The light of a shaded 
 lamp at her elbow was reflected from a hundred 
 shining strands of hair, and threw a faint rosy flush 
 on her translucent brow and cheek. Her face was in 
 profile. My imagination had not played me false 
 when it had pictured beauty hidden beneath the mo- 
 tor coat and veil. 
 
 I came three or four paces into the room and
 
 44 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 there to a standstill. Neither by movement nor by 
 gesture did the occupant of the chair betray the 
 slightest interest in my presence. I need scarcely say 
 that this was not quite the manner of greeting I had 
 been led to expect. Her attitude was not that of a 
 woman expecting a casual friend, much less that of 
 a woman waiting to greet a bidden lover. And it 
 was to that height my thoughts had reached. I had 
 very little warrant for such an assumption. Merely 
 the chatter of the maid and the indiscretion of my 
 own youthful imagination. But the sight of her face 
 put all such imaginings to flight. Whatever the rea- 
 son which had led to my summons to that house, I 
 knew that I had done her a grievous injury in my 
 thoughts, and I felt myself flushing with shame. 
 Yet, strange as it may seem to some who may read 
 this narrative, I was not sorry that my anticipa- 
 tions were to be falsified. The voice which had 
 sought my assistance had been an honest voice. At 
 the moment of hearing it I had idealised its owner 
 and I was glad that my ideal was not to be shattered 
 so swiftly. A night of dalliance is after all a poor 
 exchange for a shattered ideal. So while I waited 
 for the unknown lady to speak, the subtle inuendoes 
 of the maid Lucille faded from my thought. 
 
 I might have stood waiting for thirty seconds, or 
 the time might have been longer, before she broke 
 the silence. Then she remarked, without raising her 
 eyes from the little foot extended to the fire, "Well,
 
 I MEET LADY OF THE BLUE CAR 45 
 
 M'sieu le Comte d'Hautville, have you nothing to 
 say to me ? You were not used to be silent when we 
 were accustomed to meet, and this interview, if you 
 remember, was of your seeking." 
 
 I could not believe my ears. I looked behind me 
 to see if by chance some one else had entered. But 
 we were alone. 
 
 "I I beg your pardon, m'selle," I stammered. 
 
 My voice brought about an abrupt transition in the 
 attitude of my companion. She lifted her eyes and 
 the moment they met mine she sprang to her feet. 
 
 "Who are you ? What " she began. But she 
 gave me no time to answer her question. The light 
 of recognition came into her eyes and even as it 
 dawned there the note of surprise in her voice 
 changed to one of anger. 
 
 "This is outrageous, Mr. Hardinge," she said in 
 English. "I trusted to your honour as an English 
 gentleman that you would make no attempt to fol- 
 low me, and yet you even push yourself unannounced 
 into my presence. I presume, by bribing my maid." 
 
 The scorn in her voice cut me like a whip, but it 
 restored my self-possession, and I saw instantly that 
 I must be the victim of some mistake which could 
 only be cleared up by a direct explanation. 
 
 "You do me an injustice," I answered. "I am 
 here at the direct invitation of your messenger." 
 
 "You came here by invitation?" she repeated with 
 incredulity plainly visible in her expression. "Really,
 
 46 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 sir, your invention is lamentably dull if you cannot 
 devise a better story than that. There is only one 
 thing to be said in its favour and that is that it may 
 be so easily answered. I can assure you that not 
 only have I sent you no message, but I can think of 
 no one at the moment whose presence could be more 
 distasteful to me." 
 
 How well anger became her the face lifted 
 haughtily, the lips curved with scorn, the eyes look- 
 ing fearlessly into mine, made a perfect picture of 
 resentful beauty. But what was I to do? I half 
 turned to depart, but I could not let her retain the 
 impression that of my own volition I had thrust my- 
 self upon her. 
 
 "Perhaps I expressed myself badly, m'selle," I 
 said. "I meant to convey to you the simple fact that 
 I found myself here in consequence of a message I 
 received saying that the lady of the blue car wished 
 to see me." 
 
 "And pray who was this messenger?" she asked. 
 
 "The messenger was the girl you called Lucille," I 
 replied. 
 
 "The maid, of course," she commented scornfully. 
 "You will hardly tell me to my face that I sent her to 
 make an appointment with you. You must be pos- 
 sessed of a fair conceit, Mr. Harclinge." 
 
 That floored me. For a moment I thought that I 
 was the victim of a woman's caprice, but I could not 
 look on her face and harbour the idea. She was un-
 
 I MEET LADY OF THE BLUE CAR 47 
 
 deniably angry and astonished at my arrival and she 
 looked at the door in a way that was almost a com- 
 mand as she moved to the bell. I suppose my face 
 must have disclosed the astonishment I could not find 
 words to express, for she paused and said more 
 gently, "Do you still mean to maintain that you are 
 here in deference to what you believed was a message 
 from me ?" 
 
 "I do," I answered stoutly. "I believe I am in full 
 possession of all my senses, and until I arrived here 
 after driving from the other end of Paris I had not 
 the faintest idea as to where you lived. It seems to 
 me that I have been made the victim of a practical 
 joke on the part of some one unknown to me. I can 
 only regret that you should also be the sufferer." 
 
 "You really mean that?" she asked, and coming 
 nearer to me she looked me squarely in the eyes. 
 
 "I have spoken the exact truth," I replied, and I 
 saw at last that she believed me. 
 
 "I cannot understand," she murmured, and I 
 seemed to be aware of a vague fear creeping into her 
 face. 
 
 "There is an easy means of ascertaining the mean- 
 ing of it all," I suggested. "Why not ask Lucille? 
 She brought me here from Montmartre?" 
 
 "I will," she said, and she raised her hand to the 
 bell. But before she gave the summons the door 
 opened and there entered a man, smiling, debonnaire, 
 evidently in the best of humour with himself and the
 
 48 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 world. I recognised him at a glance. It was the 
 motorist I had stopped at the barrier ; it was the mel- 
 ancholy stranger who had sipped his coffee at the 
 same table as myself at the Cafe la Paix, the man 
 who had warned me against meddling with his pri- 
 vate affairs.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MY LADY MELODE 
 
 A TENSE silence held all three of us in its grip, a 
 silence which the newcomer was the first to break. 
 He moved toward the girl with outstretched hands. 
 "Welcome !" he said. "Welcome, my dear Melode, 
 to Paris." 
 
 She refused the offer of his hands, and they 
 dropped to his side, but the smile still remained on 
 his face, which she scanned eagerly. I glanced from 
 one to the other, and I noticed the light of compre- 
 hension breaking through the expression of bewilder- 
 ment which had remained on her countenance since 
 I had persuaded her that I had honestly believed 
 myself to have come to her presence at her own invi- 
 tation. 
 
 "So it is to you that I am indebted for this gentle- 
 man's presence?" she asked of the Comte, bowing 
 slightly toward me. 
 
 "To me?" he replied, and his air of astonishment 
 was either real or so admirably assumed that it ex- 
 actly simulated reality. "To me? Really, my dear 
 Melode, you credit me with an amount of self-abne- 
 
 49
 
 50 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 gation which is entirely foreign to my tempera- 
 ment." 
 
 The girl persisted quietly, though her lip quiv- 
 ered. 
 
 "I must ask you to explain this gentleman's pres- 
 ence, M'sieur le Comte d'Hautville." 
 
 "You ask me to explain?" he answered, mock- 
 ingly. "But surely you have no need to ask. You 
 ask me, who know nothing, to explain the obvious. 
 I see a beautiful woman and a handsome man. They 
 are obviously at home. This is m'selle's flat, I think. 
 M'selle has the right to invite her own friends to 
 visit her. I am a man of the world. I do not ques- 
 tion m'selle's right." 
 
 A flood of crimson swept across her face, and my 
 fingers involuntarily clenched themselves into a fist, 
 but quite impassively he continued : "It is true that 
 when I heard of your arrival I thought that it was 
 to see me that you were in Paris. I know that 
 women are the same all the world over, and I even 
 fancied that jealousy might have brought my charm- 
 ing friend Melode to Paris. Alas! I am mistaken. 
 It was not to see me. Yet I had thought also that 
 my dear Melode was of the cold temperament that 
 her countrywomen call virtuous. I should have re- 
 membered from my own experience that they are not 
 always as cold as they seem to be. But you may 
 rely upon me. It was not my fault that I did not 
 call at the time appointed earlier in the evening. My
 
 MY LADY MELODE 51 
 
 eyes are blind to the presence of Mr. Geoffrey Har- 
 dinge in my Lady Melode's flat. Why should I say 
 anything indeed?" 
 
 "You know that you are talking nonsense," replied 
 Lady Melode quietly, though it was with an effort 
 that she controlled her voice. 
 
 "Nonsense ?" he replied. "Is it nonsense that Mr. 
 Geoffrey Hardinge" he dwelt with a steady per- 
 sistence upon my name, as if he would show that it 
 was not likely to escape his memory "that Mr. 
 Geoffrey Hardinge assisted my Lady Melode in a 
 little adventure this afternoon; that my Lady Mel- 
 ode's maid delivered to him a message in a cafe this 
 evening and left with him to drive to the flat which 
 my Lady Melode had engaged for a short period? 
 I wonder what my Lady Melode's friends in Eng- 
 land would say if they were to hear of the adven- 
 ture." 
 
 The distress written on the girl's face forced me 
 to enter the conversation. 
 
 "If any such adventure is even whispered," I 
 blurted out, "I shall know whom I am to call to 
 account." 
 
 D'Hautville laughed merrily. "Hearken, my dear 
 Melode, he said, "to your quixotic young friend. 
 Is he not an ideal champion for a lady in difficulty? 
 He is ready at a moment's notice to tilt with the 
 windmills of scandal for a glance of your bright 
 eyes."
 
 52 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 I was about to make an angry retort when Lady 
 Melode checked my speech. 
 
 "You must have bribed Lucille to bring Mr. Har- 
 dinge here," she said. "Did you do so for the mere 
 object of compromising me ?" 
 
 He evaded the question. "Bribed the incorrupt- 
 ible Lucille?" he answered, turning to me. "Does 
 one bribe Lucille with kisses, m'sieu?" He turned 
 again to Lady Melode. "They had a long drive to- 
 gether in the fiacre and I doubt not your young 
 friend can tell you much more of Lucille than I." 
 
 His knowledge was sufficient evidence to my mind 
 that he must have been in league with the maid, and 
 had already learned from her of the ease with which 
 I had been befooled, and the malicious emphasis he 
 put upon his words made me suspect that one of his 
 objects had been to raise a barrier between myself 
 and the woman into whose presence I had been 
 brought. Perhaps he had counted upon my instant 
 dismissal in anger when I had entered her presence, 
 probably thinking that I should have given imme- 
 diate expression to the hopes which had been so art- 
 fully instilled into my brain during the journey. If 
 so, that hope had been disappointed, and now he had 
 hit upon another means of lowering me in Lady 
 Melode's esteem. My anger grew hotter by reason 
 of the fact that I had no reply at the tip of my 
 tongue. "You will bring it on yourself," I muttered, 
 as I drew a little nearer to him.
 
 MY LADY MELODE 53 
 
 As for Lady Melode, her face grew strangely 
 thoughtful. "Let us understand each other," she 
 said. "What are you hoping to gain by all this ?" 
 
 He answered as airily as before. "My clear Mel- 
 ode has the business acumen of her race, and in def- 
 erence to her wish I will myself stoop to bargaining. 
 I have ventured to hint at the possibility of this ad- 
 venture becoming known. Let me suggest that the 
 most certain method of keeping the matter from the 
 knowledge of anyone but ourselves would be for 
 my dear Melode to accept the proposals which on 
 previous occasions I have made to her." 
 
 "No, no, no !" she cried, emphatically. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "Of necessity my 
 lips would be closed, and doubtless my dear Melode 
 knows upon how many subjects it is desirable that 
 I should be silent. There is " 
 
 "Silence!" she cried. 
 
 "And for ever," he answered, "on my conditions." 
 
 She turned wearily and looked into the fire. It 
 seemed as if her courage was beginning to fail her, 
 and I longed to say or do something which should 
 bring her comfort. But I was so ignorant of the 
 motives animating the two, so full of amazement at 
 the conversation, that I was helpless as a dummy. 
 
 "Come, my dear Melode," he said, "you surely 
 need not take long to decide. Will you give me your 
 promise, or shall I leave you to the consequences 
 and Mr. Hardinge's arms?"
 
 54 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 He had overstepped the line at that remark. My 
 blood had boiled every time he had mentioned her 
 name with such insolent familiarity, now it boiled 
 over. I heard the girl murmur "How dare you! 
 How dare you!" as she raised her hand to veil her 
 face. Then I stepped forward. 
 
 I hit him twice. My left took him straight be- 
 tween the eyes, and as he came back on a rebound 
 from the wall, I caught him with a half hook under 
 the jaw which toppled him over. He dropped heav- 
 ily, smashing one of the gilded chairs in his fall, 
 and lay still on the polished floor. I do not think 
 I ever struck a man with more satisfaction. 
 
 Then I turned my attention to Lady Melode, and 
 observed that she was gazing with horror at the 
 prone figure. 
 
 "What what have you done? Is is he dead?" 
 she whispered. 
 
 "No such luck," I answered, feeling pretty well 
 satisfied with myself, for though I knew I had hit 
 hard, I judged that I had merely knocked him out. 
 "He will probably come round in a minute or so." 
 
 "But suppose he does not recover, what will hap- 
 pen? Oh, I dare not face it!" 
 
 "It would be a bit awkward," I assented, "for I 
 could hardly plead that I hit him in self-defence." 
 The remark sounds rather cold-blooded, but at the 
 moment I was anxious to restore my companion's 
 self-control.
 
 MY LADY MELODE 55 
 
 My method was successful, for she pulled herself 
 together and bent over the prostrate figure. "He 
 is still breathing," she said, after a brief examina- 
 tion. Then she rose to her full height and looked 
 at me. ''What are we to do ?'' she asked. 
 
 "When he comes round, I'll drive him back to 
 his hotel or wherever he comes from," I said, for 
 no other method of dealing with the situation sug- 
 gested itself to me. 
 
 Her face puckered in thought. 
 
 "You do not know M. le Comte," she said, "or you 
 would never make such a proposal." 
 
 "I have heard his name somewhere," I answered, 
 "but it conveys nothing to me." 
 
 "He will never forgive either you or me for that 
 blow," she continued. "We must both begone be- 
 fore he is sufficiently recovered to take any action." 
 
 "Don't yon think you unnecessarily alarm your- 
 self?" I answered, for I did not anticipate any very 
 terrible results. 
 
 "You do not know him as well as I do," she re- 
 plied, "or you would be aware that his capacities 
 for mischief are unlimited. He is a man with some 
 influence, and suppose that he were to call on the 
 police. I I could not face the publicity. You could 
 not guess what it would mean. You heard what he 
 said to-night, how he threatened to sneak of certain 
 things. Suppose your name was to be coupled with 
 mine in a police case and he would do it. It was
 
 56 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 foolish of me to think of meeting him again I 
 might have known that I should only be placing my- 
 self in his power." 
 
 She was becoming hysterical, and I thought it 
 time to interrupt. 
 
 "Well," I said, "if that is your view of the mat- 
 ter, the sooner we leave here the better." 
 
 "But where can we go?" she said, despairingly. 
 '"He can describe both of us so well that we shall 
 never be able to leave Paris, much less hide our- 
 selves here." 
 
 I looked at my watch and made a rapid calcula- 
 tion. 
 
 "If you will trust yourself to me," I said, "you 
 shall be safe in England to-morrow evening." 
 
 "But how ?" she asked. "The trains " 
 
 "Will you trust me?" I interrupted. 
 
 "I needs must," she answered, and with a wan 
 smile she placed one of her little hands in mine. 
 
 "Then put on your cloak," was my next com- 
 mand, "while I make sure that our friend here will 
 come round without assistance," for I had no desire 
 to have his death on my conscience. 
 
 He was still breathing heavily, but there was a 
 flicker about his eyes which told me that his scattered 
 senses would soon return to him. 
 
 "If you have any luggage, you had better get it 
 together," I suggested, "though I am afraid that 
 I cannot undertake to carry more than one bag."
 
 MY LADY MELODE 57 
 
 "Everything is ready," she replied simply. 
 
 Picking up her cloak, I held it while she fastened 
 the clasp. She seemed to be deeply immersed in 
 thought, for she gave me no word of thanks, but 
 crossed the floor to where d'Hautville lay. 
 
 "I wonder " she remarked. Then she dropped 
 
 on one knee beside the unconscious man and deliber- 
 ately unbuttoned his coat and placed her hand in 
 the pocket. 
 
 "Oh, hang it all, this won't do!" I said, for al- 
 though I had knocked the man out, it seemed a cad- 
 dish thing to do to stand by while he was being 
 robbed. But the girl took not the slightest notice of 
 my remonstrance. A pleased expression appeared on 
 her face as she drew a letter case, stuffed to bursting, 
 from the breast pocket and rose to her feet. 
 
 "Oh, come now, this won't do at all," I said, as 
 I moved to her side and laid my hand on the packet. 
 
 She turned upon me fiercely. "What is it to do 
 with you, Mr. Hardinge?" she cried. "Even if I 
 accept your help I cannot allow you to dictate to me 
 as to my conduct !" 
 
 "That is all very well," I answered, "but I do draw 
 the line at some things. I don't much mind if I 
 had put that chap through the mill once and for all," 
 I explained, "for he earned all that he got, and more, 
 too; but I should not like to think that he lost any- 
 thing but his life in consequence of my action. Be- 
 sides, suppose that he should not pull round, after
 
 58 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 all ? At present I am quite equal to facing the music, 
 but I should not like to have robbery suggested as 
 a motive." 
 
 She listened to me, and a smile flashed across her 
 face. 
 
 "What quaint, illogical creatures men are!" she 
 explained. "Here you are, apparently undisturbed 
 by the thought of being charged with robbing a man 
 of his life, yet morally palsied at the thought of tak- 
 ing from his possession a few letters." 
 
 "It may seem illogical to you," I remarked, "but 
 to me there is no paradox involved in my position* 
 I had a just and reasonable excuse for knocking him 
 down, I have none for taking his property." 
 
 "But suppose I have a more adequate reason for 
 taking his letters than you had for knocking him 
 down, are you going to argue that your moral re- 
 sponsibility is to take precedence of mine ?" 
 
 "I don't know the circumstances," I answered, du- 
 biously. 
 
 "I cannot tell you them, Mr. Hardinge," she said, 
 "but cannot you trust to me ? I tell you that I have 
 the best reason in the world for possessing myself 
 of these letters." She untied a string that bound 
 the bundle together, and spread them on the table. 
 "At least you shall be assured that nothing save let- 
 ters are here that I am no common thief." 
 
 I strove to assure her that I had no suspicion that
 
 MY LADY MELODE 59 
 
 she was actuated by any mercenary motive, but she 
 thrust my apologies aside. 
 
 "Why should you not attribute the basest of mo- 
 tives to me?" she said. "The peculiar chain of events 
 which has brought you here to-night, my association 
 with that man, are surely sufficient to warrant you 
 in mistrusting me. But look" she spread the let- 
 ters widely and turned the case which had contained 
 them inside out "you can see I am not taking 
 money." 
 
 "No," I replied, "but letters are sometimes more 
 valuable than money. Besides, with those in your 
 possession the Count will have a definite excuse for 
 arresting us." 
 
 "I know ! I know !" she cried. "But I must face 
 even that risk. If you only knew what the posses- 
 sion of these letters means to me and to others, you 
 would not, I am sure, contest my right to get them 
 by fair means or by foul. It was to obtain them 
 by fair means that I made an appointment to-night 
 with that particularly fine gentleman there" her 
 gesture as she pointed to the recumbent figure spoke 
 eloquently of abhorrence. "You must allow me to 
 retain them. If not well, I must do my best to 
 get away alone." 
 
 Against my judgment I surrendered my scruples. 
 "Corne," I said, "the Count is already reviving." 
 
 She had already replaced the letters in the case, 
 and thrusting it inside her cloak she preceded me
 
 60 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 from the room. We were none too soon. The 
 Count had stirred, and as she passed through the 
 door he raised himself on one elbow. My last glance 
 carried away the memory of a face very different 
 from that of the debonnaire Parisian who had en- 
 tered the room half an hour previously the memory 
 of a face all puffed and blackened, with the hair 
 dishevelled, and the moustache drenched with blood. 
 I closed the door carefully behind me and turned 
 the key in the lock. Lady Melode had picked up 
 a small dressing bag which stood beneath a little 
 table in the hall. I took it from her hand. 
 
 "What about the maid, Lucille?" I asked. 
 
 "She must have been in league with him. It 
 would be better to leave her behind," said my com- 
 panion. 
 
 I nodded, and it was the work of a second to 
 turn the key in the lock of the door on the other 
 side of the passage. 
 
 "They will be safe until they can arouse someone 
 to come and let them out," I remarked, as we 
 emerged on to the staircase and closed the front 
 door behind us. 
 
 We blundered down the five long flights of stairs, 
 expecting every moment to hear some outcry raised. 
 We reached the open air. The chances of obtaining 
 a vehicle I judged would be of the slightest at that 
 hour of the night in that locality.
 
 MY LADY MELODE 61 
 
 "I hope you are not afraid of walking?" I re- 
 marked. 
 
 "Not in the least," she answered, "but what are 
 your plans?" 
 
 "First to get to the Grand as soon as may be," 
 I answered. "But let us hasten; there will be plenty 
 of time to discuss plans later." 
 
 I strode away at a rate which taxed all my com- 
 panion's powers, and for ten minutes we saw not a 
 sign of anything living. Then fortune favoured 
 us with a sight of a fiacre drawn up outside a caba- 
 ret A babel of voices issued from within, and in 
 view of possible pursuit I hesitated about entering 
 and exposing myself to the scrutiny of the inmates. 
 I had just made up my mind to take the risk, when 
 the driver made his appearance, and I at once tackled 
 him. He was on his way home, and loth to take 
 a new fare; but the substantial golden arguments 
 was able to adduce ultimately persuaded him to com- 
 ply with my wishes. My companion entered the cab. 
 I followed, and we drove away at once in the direc- 
 tion of my hotel.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 
 
 No SOONER was the cab in motion than my com- 
 panion renewed her enquiry as to my plans. Now 
 a method of leaving France had presented itself to 
 my mind through which I should be certain of sev- 
 eral hours of her society, and at the moment I did 
 not desire to look more than a few hours ahead. But 
 the adoption of my idea would mean no inconsid- 
 erable degree of exposure to weather and fatigue, 
 and I could not bring myself to believe that there was 
 any danger in returning to England by the ordinary 
 route. When I had heard d'Hautville's name men- 
 tioned, I knew that I had heard it before, and while 
 we had been plodding along in search of a cab I re- 
 called where and what I had heard of the man who 
 bore it. There was nothing to his discredit in what 
 had reached my ears. Indeed, it was by the merest 
 chance that I had never met him, for I remembered 
 that he was a leading light in French automobilism, 
 and had a reputation as being a sportsman to the 
 finger tips. If then, I argued, his reputation did not 
 belie him, he would desire to settle matters with me 
 
 62
 
 A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 63 
 
 personally rather than through the intervention of 
 any third party. I did not dwell on the thought of 
 what form that settlement would take. I had heard 
 that he had a very delicate finger for a trigger, and 
 that his wrist was of steel, while though I could do 
 my duty at the corner of a covert, I had never han- 
 dled a pistol in my life, and my knowledge of fence 
 was absolutely nil. However, there is never any 
 advantage to be gained by considering the amount 
 of one's bill before presentation, so I dismissed the 
 thought. Yet in considering these things I could 
 not fail to come to the conclusion that it would hard- 
 ly be sporting to subject a woman to hardships which 
 to my mind were avoidable. So I explained what 
 my views of the question were, and suggested to 
 Lady Melode that she should rest a few hours at the 
 Grand and take the first train for Calais in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 She would not hear of it, declaring that it would 
 be madness for her to remain in Paris an hour longer 
 than was absolutely necessary, and as I was in total 
 ignorance of the motives which actuated her, I could 
 not gainsay her. 
 
 "What course would you suggest?" I asked, be- 
 fore telling her of my own project. 
 
 "I have thought of nothing," she replied, "except 
 that by good fortune you might manage to get me 
 by means of your car to Boulogne in time to catch 
 a boat in the morning."
 
 64 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "If you are still bent on leaving Paris and France 
 by a route which is not likely to be anticipated by 
 arryone, I have a suggestion to make," I said. "But 
 at the same time I must warn you that the journey 
 will probably be attended with a good deal of dis- 
 comfort, and possibly some danger." 
 
 "There can be no discomfort I will not face gladly 
 and no danger so great as that we shall leave be- 
 hind," she answered. 
 
 "Really, I do not think M. le Comte d'Hautville is 
 so much to be feared as you imagine," I contended. 
 
 "You know him?" she asked, and I noticed a 
 movement as if she shrank from me. 
 
 "By reputation only. I have never met him," I 
 replied. 
 
 "I wish I could see your face, Mr. Hardinge," she 
 remarked. 
 
 "May I be permitted to smoke a cigarette?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Of course," she said. 
 
 I took a cigarette from my case and then I struck 
 a match. "I have never met d'Hautville until to- 
 night," I remarked, as I held the match before my 
 face previous to lighting the cigarette. 
 
 She laughed by way of reply. Then she took my 
 hand. "Forgive me for an unworthy suspicion. Mr. 
 Hardinge; but if you knew what manner of man 
 I have been fighting you would know that no
 
 A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 65 
 
 thought concerning him is too wild to find harbour- 
 age in my brain." 
 
 "I hit him pretty hard, you know. A confederate 
 would hardly have treated him quite so severely," 
 I remarked. 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "It was an absurd suspi- 
 cion." 
 
 I suppose I must have squeezed her hand too hard 
 at this moment, for she withdrew it from my grasp. 
 I threw my cigarette out of the window. 
 
 "Are you not going to smoke after all ?" she said. 
 
 "Rather too close quarters, isn't it?" I replied. 
 "That cigarette has fulfilled its purpose if it has 
 shown you that you may trust to me." 
 
 "I do trust in you. I trust in you absolutely," 
 she murmured. 
 
 "Then now for my suggestion," I said. 
 
 "Yes." There was eagerness in her tone. 
 
 "What do you say to a night ride in my car to 
 Havre, and thence, if the weather is propitious, a 
 trip in my motor boat to Southampton?" 
 
 She answered with a little cry of delight. 
 
 "It will be beastly cold," I continued. 
 
 "There is nothing I should enjoy more, even if 
 there were no occasion for the trip. Under present 
 circumstances you cannot imagine how delightful 
 your proposal sounds." 
 
 I saw a chance of sating my curiosity, and I took 
 it. "I think if you were to confide to me what those
 
 66 THE LADY 'OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 circumstances are, Lady Melode, I might conceiv- 
 ably be of still more assistance to you." 
 
 My only answer was a sigh. 
 
 "I do not speak from idle curiosity," I urged. "I 
 really should like to be able to help you." 
 
 "If I only could tell you everything," she began, 
 and then paused. 
 
 "Why not? I shall not abuse your confidence," I 
 said. 
 
 "No, don't ask me to do so, Mr. Hardinge," she 
 answered. "Don't ask me to tell you anything, 
 please !" 
 
 I could not withstand the pleading in her voice, 
 though I fancy nay, I know now that I was fool- 
 ish not to have pressed the question. If I had done 
 so she would have told me things that would have 
 saved me a good deal of mental torture and probably 
 have enabled me to save her similar trouble. But 
 in deference to her wish I desisted, and we were 
 silent until the cab stopped. I jumped out, to find 
 that the poor old horse in the shafts was completely 
 foundered. Fortunately, we were now approaching 
 the centre of the city, and, another vehicle coming 
 along, we transferred ourselves to it, and were not 
 long in arriving at our destination. 
 
 We did not enter the hotel, but made our way 
 directly to the garage. The night attendant took 
 a good deal of arousing, but when he made his ap- 
 pearance he recognised me, and made no difficulty
 
 A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 67 
 
 about getting my car out, though he was evidently 
 greatly surprised at my desiring to take a drive at 
 such an unearthly hour, for it was now close upon 
 
 3 A.M. 
 
 "M'sieu is not taking his chauffeur ?" he remarked 
 when he had lighted the lamps and thrown open 
 the doors, preparatory to starting the engine. 
 
 I was glad of the reminder, for I had entirely for- 
 gotten the worthy Cole's existence. I borrowed a 
 sheet of paper and an envelope, and scribbled a note 
 to him, telling him that I had been called away for 
 a couple of days, and asked the attendant to let him 
 have the epistle first thing in the morning. While 
 I was writing the man had brought me my over- 
 coats, and then another difficulty confronted me. I 
 realised that Lady Melode was ill equipped for a 
 rapid journey in an open car on a winter night. It 
 is true she had a sable cloak which reached to her 
 heels, but that alone would scarcely afford sufficient 
 protection. I made her the offer of one of my coats, 
 but she declared that her own cloak would be quite 
 sufficient when seated in the tonneau, and upon my 
 continuing to object she proposed that she should 
 borrow my man's motor coat instead. He had left 
 his belongings in the garage, so that there was no 
 difficulty in carrying out the suggestion, and her 
 slender figure was soon lost to sight in Cole's leather 
 coat, her hair covered with Cole's leather cap, and 
 her face completely disguised beneath Cole's gog-
 
 68 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 gles. Thus accoutred, I tucked her up in a couple 
 of rugs, and climbed into my seat. One other thing 
 I had done. I had slipped a louis into the attend- 
 ant's hand with the remark : "If enquiries are made, 
 you have never seen madame. I have gone for an 
 early drive alone." 
 
 He smiled as he pocketed the coin, and told me 
 that he was sympathetically disposed toward per- 
 sons engaged in well, the sort of adventure he 
 probably imagined that we were engaged in; so I 
 said, "I shall be back in a couple of days, and I 
 should like to hear whether any enquiries are made 
 concerning me." 
 
 "Certainly, m'sieu." he replied. He started the 
 engine, and we were off. 
 
 The boulevards were by no means deserted as we 
 passed out of the garage, but there was very little 
 traffic, and as soon as we turned into the Champs 
 Elysees I let the car go, and we soon reached the 
 barrier. There I submitted to the usual examina- 
 tion, and took my receipt for petrol from a very 
 sleepy official. While we waited I noticed that my 
 companion was looking behind, as if she expected 
 pursuit, though she did not say a word. When once 
 more I started the car I fancied I heard her sigh 
 with relief. 
 
 The night was horribly dark once we had left the 
 Paris lights behind, and I was glad that I had driven 
 over the road before me at least half a dozen times
 
 A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 69 
 
 before. A fine snow had commenced to fall, and 
 for some time I dared venture upon nothing higjier 
 than my second speed. Gradually, however, my eyes 
 grew accustomed to the light, and once fairly on 
 the Rouen road I let the car go again, and she began 
 to eat the miles which lay between us and our des- 
 tination. Luckily the snow was of microscopic fine- 
 ness and perfectly hard. It was no more of a draw- 
 back than a film of dust on the road, and as we flew 
 onward it was whirled up behind in a cloud which 
 was more reminiscent of the road in midsummer 
 than midwinter. 
 
 And what of the incidents of the journey? There 
 were none, or at least my attention was so closely 
 concentrated on the task that I had no time to take 
 note of anything. I remember Gisors, and how 
 peacefully the little town slumbered beneath its white 
 mantle, for in passing through the gate of Nor- 
 mandy only the solitary bark of a dog answered the 
 challenge of my horn. After that, an endless ribbon 
 of white road, to see which I had every minute to 
 brush the snow from my goggles, until we reached 
 Rouen. My hands were so numbed by this time that 
 it was with difficulty I could clutch the lever to re- 
 duce the speed as we passed through the town. I 
 need not have troubled. Rouen was as deep in slum- 
 ber as Gisors had been. Nothing barred the way, 
 and leaving the town behind, I put on my highest 
 speed to rush the hill which lay between us and Can-
 
 telou. I had to drop to the lowest before I reached 
 the top, for with fingers stiff with cold I found diffi- 
 culty in adjusting the supply of petrol to the engine 
 with any nicety. But the delay was momentary. At 
 racing speed we darted downhill along the track 
 which cut the black lines of the Foret de Roumere. 
 The woodlands were behind us, and I remember 
 how pleased I was to sight the beacon on the Seine 
 flaming its signal to the river boats as we came to 
 Duclair. Again the river was lost to sight, and 
 again we plunged into forest land, but not for long. 
 Caudebec slept like all the other towns on our route, 
 and once again I had to slacken speed as we climbed 
 to the top of the plateau which lies between Caudebec 
 and Lillebonne. When Lillebonne lay behind there 
 seemed to be a keener bite in the wind, which car- 
 ried a taste of salt as it blew in from the sea. The 
 road now was perfectly flat, and the white-robed 
 meadows on my left hand faded away into the dark- 
 ness of the estuary. Then suddenly there flashed 
 from the horizon the twin lights which I knew could 
 be none other than those of the Cap de Herie, and 
 I knew that our journey was nearly done. 
 
 A little later came tram lines, and I slackened 
 speed. Then houses, and, though the darkness was 
 still upon the face of the earth, figures of men started 
 up out of it, and after a momentary illumination, 
 faded away again into the gloom from which they 
 had emerged. And at last came the lighted streets
 
 A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 71 
 
 and the hotel at which on previous occasions I had 
 stopped. 
 
 When I pulled up I lost no time in alighting, but 
 when I reached the pavement I stood rocking to and 
 fro like a drunken man. I was numbed through with 
 the cold, and it was only by vigorous effort that I 
 managed to restore any sort of circulation to my 
 limbs. Then my next business was to see how my 
 companion had fared. She had not moved when I 
 stopped, and she was so still that it was with fear 
 at my heart I stepped into the body of the car. She 
 had drawn a rug over her shoulders and head, and 
 the snow lay drifted on the covering. I drew it back 
 from her face. I need not have feared. She opened 
 her eyes and smiled. "Where am I?" she asked. 
 It was the wonder wakening of a child. 
 
 "Havre," I answered. "Wake up to Havre and 
 breakfast." 
 
 Presently we found ourselves in the salon of the 
 hotel, which seemed to me colder than the air out- 
 side. Seven o'clock in the morning is perhaps the 
 time when one finds the resources of a French hotel 
 at their lowest ebb, and the sleepy porter who ad- 
 mitted us could afford us but little prospect of imme- 
 diate relief. I persuaded him, however, to pilot me 
 to a stable, where I housed the car, and then we 
 left the inhospitable place behind us. I found my 
 immediate requirements at a little baker's shop. 
 There, seated at a little table, in an atmosphere which
 
 72 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 was delightfully genial, we partook of coffee and 
 rolls. The coffee was nectar, the rolls ambrosia, and 
 I had a winter motor hunger, which is, I believe, 
 the nearest thing to a wolf's appetite to which a mere 
 man may attain. I know it surprised Lady Melode, 
 for she watched me with an amused smile for a long 
 while after she had finished her own meal. She told 
 me that, covering herself with the rug, she had fallen 
 asleep immediately after leaving Rouen, and had 
 felt nothing of the cold which had bitten me so 
 hard. 
 
 Dawn had broken by the time our meal was fin- 
 ished, but minute particles of snow were still drift- 
 ing on the breeze, and the prospect of crossing to 
 Southampton in an open boat seemed so unpromis- 
 ing that I made a last attempt to dissuade my com- 
 panion from venturing. But she would not hear 
 of delay. 
 
 "Please, Mr. Hardinge, let us get away as soon 
 as we can," she said. "I shall not feel safe until 
 we are in England." Then, when I still hesitated, 
 she flashed out : "Of course, if you are afraid " 
 
 The taunt settled my wavering determination. We 
 went out into the gray light of the morning toward 
 the wharf where the Petrel awaited my orders. 
 There was no one about, and a good hour elapsed be- 
 fore I found the wharfinger, and another passed be- 
 fore the tanks were filled with petrol and we could 
 embark. The few people who were upon the quay
 
 A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 73 
 
 as we took our departure must have thought \ve were 
 a pair of lunatics, for the snow was still falling, and 
 a more unpromising day for an excursion by boat 
 could scarcely be conceived. I had brought down 
 all the rugs from the car, and with them I had made 
 a snug nest aft for my passenger. She curled her- 
 self up in them, I took the wheel in my hand, and 
 headed for the mouth of the harbour.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ON A WINTER SEA 
 
 THE weather was much thicker than was desir- 
 able as I groped along the fairway, keeping my eyes 
 open to their widest extent, for I had no wish to 
 chuck my little craft bows on to the hull of some 
 rotten old tramp which would not feel a tremor from 
 a shock which would crumple up the Petrel and send 
 her to the bottom. We got out all right, however, 
 and the sky seemed a little brighter, though in a very 
 few minutes we lost sight of the Cap de Herie in 
 the drifting snow. The prospect was not a pretty 
 one, and the more I considered it the less I liked it. 
 The wind had dropped, and there was nothing visible 
 but a leaden sea, canopied by leaden clouds from 
 which the snowflakes dropped sullenly. The Petrel 
 seemed to be the only thing moving on the waste, 
 and I was in two minds about putting back until 
 the weather cleared, chancing the scorn of my com- 
 panion. I suppose it was a false sense of shame 
 prevented me, for, glancing back at Lady Melode, 
 I saw that she had a most contented air. With a 
 growl at my own folly, I put the engines at their 
 
 74
 
 ON A WINTER SEA 75 
 
 top speed, determining to put as great a distance as 
 possible between myself and the starting point be- 
 fore the desire to return should overmaster me. My 
 reward was swift. The exhilaration which is al- 
 ways attendant upon swift movement seized hold of 
 me, and I had no thought of return. Gradually, too, 
 the air cleared. The snow ceased to fall. The clouds 
 lifted, and we had not been afloat for an hour before 
 the rich red ball of a winter sun glowed at us through 
 a high fog belt. Then came a puff or two of wind, 
 and, helter skelter, the clouds took to flight, the fog 
 wreaths were torn aside, and we were cutting a sap- 
 phire sea beneath a turquoise sky. 
 
 I began to enjoy the adventure. For the first time 
 since leaving Paris I was able to devote some atten- 
 tion to my companion. The brisk air had brought 
 the colour to her cheeks, and was tugging away at a 
 stray tress of her hair which had escaped from be- 
 neath Cole's cap which she still wore. 
 
 "We are going to have a fine crossing, after all," 
 I shouted encouragingly. 
 
 The wind took the words past her. She rose from 
 her seat and made her way forward with a parcel 
 which she had unearthed from beneath the rugs. 
 "Are you not hungry?" she asked, when she came 
 within speaking distance. 
 
 "I'm afraid I shall be famished before we get to 
 Southampton," I replied, ruefully. "Coffee and rolls 
 are not a very sustaining diet, are they? I did not
 
 76 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 mean to starve yon, Lady Melode, but I entirely for- 
 got to bring any provisions on board." 
 
 "How lucky I remembered woman's first duty to 
 man !" she answered. "While you were so busy with 
 the boat I made some sort of provision for our 
 needs." She unwrapped the parcel and produced 
 from it a long loaf and a substantial-looking galan- 
 tine, some fruit, a large packet of chocolate, and a 
 bottle of burgundy. "Now, if you can only manage 
 to take the chill off the wine, I think we might have 
 quite a pleasant lunch," she said. 
 
 "You have done your duty nobly, Lady Melode," 
 I answered, as I took the bottle from her hand and 
 placed it alongside one of the cylinders of the en- 
 gine. 
 
 "I do hope you have knives and forks aboard," 
 she said, anxiously, "for that is where my forget- 
 fulness began." 
 
 I laughed. "You will find an empty luncheon 
 basket in the locker on the port quarter," I said. 
 
 "Which is the port quarter ?" she asked, demurely. 
 "I am not quite a sailorman yet, in spite of the 
 oilies do you call them?" 
 
 I could not but laugh again, as I directed her to 
 the locker, for she presented a quaint picture. I had 
 rigged her out in a suit of oilskins, which she had 
 managed somehow to tuck her skirts into, so that 
 progression was difficult. She merely made a little 
 moue at me over her shoulder in reply to my laugh-
 
 ON A WINTER SEA 77 
 
 ter, and fished out the basket. She took the needful 
 articles from inside and spread out the meal on the 
 lid of the basket, and when she had finished she 
 came again to my side, and touching her cap saucily, 
 said : "Lunch is ready, sir." 
 
 "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to feed me, 
 Lady Melode. One can hardly leave a motor boat 
 to steer herself," I explained. 
 
 "How stupid of me," she replied, and I could see 
 she was disappointed. Then, after a moment, she 
 added : "Don't you think we have half an hour to 
 spare ? There would be no need to steer if the motor 
 was not running, would there?" 
 
 I looked round with my most weather-wise air. 
 "No," I answered. "There would be little risk in 
 letting the boat drift under present conditions, and 
 barring accidents we ought to be able to make South- 
 ampton by four o'clock this afternoon." 
 
 "Then stop the engine and come and eat," she 
 commanded. 
 
 I was nothing loth to obey, and though I should 
 have preferred to have kept the engines running, 
 yet I considered it well to husband my petrol, and, 
 stopping them, I let the boat drift and seated myself 
 beside her. 
 
 That al fresco lunch was the most delightful meal 
 I had ever partaken of. My appetite was excellent, 
 for it was the hour of noon, and I had touched noth- 
 ing since the rolls at eight. But it was not my appe-
 
 78 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 tite which made for my enjoyment so much as the 
 delightful personality of my companion. While we 
 ate we talked. At least Lady Melode talked and I 
 listened. Until this moment I had only seen her un- 
 der the stress of trouble. But those troubles she 
 seemed to have left behind her on the quay at Havre. 
 The first time I had heard her voice I had been fas- 
 cinated by it, and in the half hour we spent over that 
 meal my fascination was completed. Not by her 
 voice alone, though it was of matchless timbre and 
 tone; nor by the rippling melody of her laughter; 
 but just as much by the bright spirit which animated 
 speech and thought alike. But though she chattered 
 freely, not once did she give a hint which would 
 help me to elucidate any one of the things I wanted 
 to know. She talked of motoring, of painting, of 
 singing, of persons even, in an impersonal way which 
 gave me not the slightest clue to her identity. There 
 was a touch of imperiousness in her manner which 
 told me that she was somebody, but nothing more. 
 
 I usually find that the best method of ascertaining 
 what I want to know is to ask for the information 
 point blank, and thus it was not long before I ven- 
 tured to enquire from my companion whether she 
 did not think that our acquaintance had pro- 
 gressed sufficiently far to warrant a formal introduc- 
 tion. 
 
 "But you know who I am," she replied. "I am 
 Lady Melode."
 
 ON A WINTER SEA 79 
 
 ''I know that, it is true, but anybody who heard 
 you speak would know as much." 
 
 "I should think that rank flattery if I had not 
 heard it before," she said. "What more do you 
 want to know ?" 
 
 "I doubt not more than my desert," I answered. 
 "But what man is ever satisfied with incomplete in- 
 formation when a woman really interests him ?" 
 
 "It is a great thing to have interested Mr. Geof- 
 frey Hardinge," she said, with pleasant mockery. 
 
 "I am glad you think so," I answered, "because 
 you may then be disposed to complete my informa- 
 tion concerning Lady Melode." 
 
 She pondered awhile, then she shook her head. 
 "Not yet," she murmured, more as if in reply to the 
 questioning of her own brain than to my request. 
 "Not yet; you must for the present be content to 
 know me as Lady Melode." 
 
 "Then it is not your real name?" I asked eagerly. 
 
 "You told me just now that it was so real that 
 anybody would guess it from hearing me speak," she 
 answered, roguishly. 
 
 "Why may I not know the rest of it ?" I said, un- 
 heeding the prevarication. 
 
 Petulantly came the answer. "I cannot tell you.'"' 
 Then quickly, as if she feared that her petulance was 
 ungracious, she continued earnestly: "Mr. Har- 
 dinge, you must try and find it in your heart to for- 
 give me, but at present you must be content to be
 
 80 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 thanked for all you have done for me by the unknown 
 Lady Melode. I know that I am indebted to you 
 for far more than any woman has a right to expect 
 from any man who has no claims upon her. I can 
 never forget your kindness, but I cannot repay it." 
 
 "I want no repayment but the chance of seeing 
 you again," I cried. 
 
 "Some day," she said, "but let me finish. You 
 have believed in me, trusted me under circumstances 
 which are enough to shake any man's faith in a 
 woman, but never by word or look have you hurt me 
 with a hint of suspicion." 
 
 "Those letters," I murmured. 
 
 A little laugh, coupled with "You did not really 
 doubt my motives ?" was her answer. 
 
 "I did," I answered stoutly. 
 
 "For just one brainy moment," she said, "when 
 your emotional, chivalrous self was in momentary 
 conflict with your intelligence, you may have thought 
 that you mistrusted me, but you did not do so in re- 
 ality, or I should never have been here now." 
 
 This analysis of the thought which had inspired 
 my actions took me aback. She was right, and I be- 
 gan to feel a very real respect for the intelligence 
 which could deduce so clearly from limited observa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Why you should have trusted me so fully, I do 
 not know," she continued, though as she spoke she
 
 ON A WINTER SEA 81 
 
 dropped her eyes, possibly lest she should read the 
 reason in mine. 
 
 ".The reason " I began. 
 
 She stopped me hastily. "I will not ask it. It 
 is enough that you did so, and now I am going to 
 ask you to be equally chivalrous to the end. I know 
 that you could easily find out all about me. You 
 have but to whisper of your adventure but that I 
 am sure you will not do. But I want you to forget 
 the past two days." 
 
 "That were impossible," I said. 
 
 "Fate may bring us together again some day," 
 she went on, as if she had not heard my remark. 
 "If so, I shall expect that you will meet me as a com- 
 plete stranger." 
 
 She looked at me so earnestly and gratefully that 
 I had nothing to say. What could I have said ? She 
 held out her hand to me and I raised it to my lips. 
 Then turning away, I busied myself at starting the 
 motor. 
 
 Lady Melode came and stood at my side at the 
 wheel when once again I had got the Petrel on her 
 course. She was desirous of learning the manage- 
 ment of the boat, and, under my tuition, she soon 
 picked up the trick of steering. This gave me an 
 opportunity to smoke a cigarette under shelter of the 
 hood, and so for a couple of hours we progressed, 
 taking spell and spell at the wheel, and talking the 
 while. I learned a good deal of my fair companion's
 
 82 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 tastes during this time and revealed still more of 
 my own. When a beautiful woman, even though she 
 be clad in oilskins, with a chauffeur's cap covering 
 her tresses, betrays an interest in a man's likes and 
 dislikes, in his hopes and his ambitions, he is not 
 likely to prove unresponsive, and I have a suspicion 
 that I made a fairly complete revelation of myself 
 before I observed that she was getting weary. I 
 challenged her with being tired, but at first she would 
 not admit it ; but when twice in thirty seconds she let 
 the Petrel drop a couple of points off her course, she 
 confessed that she could hardly keep her eyes open. 
 So I let the engine run free while I tucked her up 
 amongst the rugs in the stern, and then went back 
 to the wheel. 
 
 I was beginning to feel confoundedly sleepy my- 
 self, but I fought the impulse, solacing myself with 
 the thought that in two or three more hours at the 
 outside I should be able to indulge my desire to the 
 fullest extent. Meanwhile the wind had been fresh- 
 ening from the northeast ever since noon, and the 
 sky had again become overcast. The sea was get- 
 ting up, too, and the waves were big enough to 
 produce a perceptible shock as the Petrel thrust her 
 bow into them. 
 
 After another hour the wind had freshened con- 
 siderably. The spray was flying in a continuous 
 shower, and a casual snowflake or two gave me anx- 
 ious thoughts. I began to wonder how long I should
 
 ON A WINTER SEA 83 
 
 be able to keep the Petrel at full speed, and to look 
 ahead longingly for a glimpse of the Isle of Wight. 
 By this time, too, I began to feel horribly chilled. 
 The continuous stream of water to which I was ex- 
 posed found its way through my oilskins, running 
 down my neck in a stream, until I had scarcely a 
 dry thread on me. 
 
 Another hour slipped by slowly. Lady Melode 
 slept as soundly as if rocked in a cradle. I was re- 
 gretting the half hour we had taken over lunch, for 
 never a glimpse of land rewarded my look-out. I 
 feared lest I had miscalculated the drift of the tide, 
 or by some error or another steered a wrong course. 
 Earlier in the day we had sighted plenty of ship- 
 ping, but now nothing at all was visible through the 
 snow which began to drive thickly on the wind. The 
 sea was not a heavy one for a vessel of any size, but 
 for a half-decked racing motor boat it was quite big 
 enough to provide material for apprehension. It oc- 
 curred to me that an unexpected end to our adven- 
 ture might come at any moment, particularly when 
 a sudden squall beat down upon us and enveloped 
 the little Petrel in a smother of foam and snow. I 
 came through it blind to everything for a moment, 
 uncertain whether I was on or under the water, and 
 ran plump into another danger ; for as I rubbed the 
 salt water out of my eyes I became aware that I was 
 heading bow on to a huge liner about a chain's length 
 distant. I got the Petrel round with a dozen yards
 
 84. THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 to spdre, but the imminence of the danger acted as 
 a spur to my flagging faculties. After all, we had 
 escaped, and the danger into which we had so nearly 
 run was to prove a blessing in disguise. The steam- 
 ship might have passed us in the squall, and I should 
 have been left to blunder on in the swiftly gather- 
 ing darkness. As it happened, I recognised her for 
 a Castle liner dropping down to Southampton, out- 
 ward bound from the port of London, and I knew 
 then whereabouts we were. My course was that of 
 the ship, and acting on the knowledge I had gained 
 I was soon in the more sheltered Southampton water, 
 though full night had fallen before I picked up my 
 moorings and prepared to land. Then I went aft 
 and bent over my passenger. She was fast asleep 
 still.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED FAREWELL 
 
 WHEN I saw my passenger sleeping so cosily 
 amongst the rugs, instead of being pleased that she 
 had so been enabled to escape the discomforts of the 
 trip, my feeling was one of annoyance. Of course, 
 I had no right to be annoyed. I suppose my vanity 
 was injured by the knowledge that I should get no 
 recognition of the way I had brought the Petrel 
 through the very real perils of the passage. I did 
 not make any allowance for the effects of the fresh 
 air and exposure ; besides, I was so numbed with the 
 cold that my hands were as useless as two pieces of 
 board, I had not a dry thread of clothing upon me, 
 and, as I moved, my shoes squelched with the water 
 inside them. I felt chilled to the marrow, and my 
 teeth chattered in spite of all my efforts to keep 
 them together. Then, too, for a couple of hours 
 past all my faculties had been strained to their ut- 
 most, and the reaction was considerable. Under these 
 circumstances, my state of mind may be explainable, 
 though I do not venture to apologise for it. It is 
 a pitiful confession of weakness, but this is a true 
 
 85
 
 86 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 record of fact, and that is precisely how I felt when 
 I drew the rug back from Lady Melode's face and 
 saw that she was blissfully unconscious that we had 
 come safe to port. 
 
 I am glad that my ill temper did not endure until 
 she was fully awakened. It was, in fact, the rough- 
 ness of my tone as I bade her awaken that brought 
 me to a knowledge of my evil frame of mind, and 
 by the time she had risen to a sitting position and 
 had rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, I was suffi- 
 ciently master of myself to be ashamed of the feel- 
 ings which had got hold of me. 
 
 "Where are we ?" were her first words. 
 
 "Southampton," was my brief -reply. "Thank 
 heaven, we have managed to get here !" 
 
 "Why, I must have slept for hours!" she said. 
 "How perfectly horrid of me !" 
 
 The self-reproach in her voice put to flight the 
 remnant of my ill-conditioned thoughts. 
 
 "Quite the best thing you could have done," I 
 answered. "There was very little enjoyment to have 
 been got out of the last few hours." 
 
 "Why?" she asked, wonderingly. 
 
 "I'll tell you why when we are ashore," I an- 
 swered, as I steadied the boat against the quay side 
 for her to disembark. 
 
 She scrambled ashore with difficulty owing to the 
 encumbrance of the oilskins, and after pitching a
 
 AN UNEXPECTED FAREWELL 87 
 
 couple of the rugs ashore I followed and made the 
 painter fast. 
 
 "Now the next thing is a hotel and dry clothes 
 and dinner, I suppose/' I said. 
 
 "Do you know anything about the London 
 trains?" she asked. 
 
 "But surely you cannot contemplate going any 
 further to-night?" I said in astonishment. 
 
 "I must be in town to-night, if possible," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "But " I began. 
 
 "I cannot listen," she said, and turned as if to 
 depart. 
 
 "You can hardly go to town in those oilies," I 
 suggested. 
 
 She laughed, just one little trill, and disencum- 
 bered herself of the unprepossessing garments, roll- 
 ing them into a little bundle. She doffed the leather 
 jacket also, and replaced the chauffeur's cap with 
 her own toque, and in a minute was a very different 
 being to the companion who had lunched with me 
 in mid-channel. I also got rid of my waterproofmgs 
 and pitched them into the boat. We were quite 
 alone on the deserted quay, and once again the snow 
 began to fall. 
 
 "Now what about the trains?" she said, as we 
 turned our faces toward the town. 
 
 "Have you any idea as to the time?" I asked.
 
 She looked at the little jewelled watch on her 
 wrist "It is now a little after five," she answered. 
 
 "If you are really in a hurry we might catch the 
 5.58. It would bring us up to town inside of two 
 hours," I remarked. 
 
 "Will take me up to town," she said. "You 
 have your boat to look after, and I am sure you will 
 need some food and rest before travelling any 
 further." 
 
 "Hang the boat !" I replied. "I have taken charge 
 of you so far. Haven't I earned the right to see 
 you safely to your journey's end ?" 
 
 "Would it be any advantage to you to bid me 
 good-bye on the Waterloo rather than on the South- 
 ampton platform ? Further than that you could not 
 accompany me." 
 
 "All the advantage in the world. I should have 
 two hours more of your company," I answered, eag- 
 erly, for the nearness of the farewell bade fair to 
 scatter my few remaining senses. 
 
 The answer was what I might have expected. "I 
 shall bid you good-bye at Southampton, Mr. Har- 
 dinge." 
 
 "Oh, well, I shall not force my company upon 
 you," I replied savagely. My ill temper had once 
 more got the upper hand, and we passed through 
 the lighted streets without a word. I was sorry 
 for my churlishness long before we reached the sta- 
 tion, and I am glad that I had the grace to apolo-
 
 89 
 
 gise. I suppose she realised that I was very nearly 
 done up, for she forgave me my ill-mannered speech 
 on the instant. 
 
 There were ten minutes to spare when we reached 
 the station, and I utilised the time to do all possible 
 to make her journey comfortable, not forgetting a 
 tea basket supplemented with some sandwiches, and 
 a tip to the guard to ensure that her privacy would 
 not be disturbed. Then there was nothing left but 
 to make my adieu. 
 
 "You are still determined upon dismissing me 
 here ?" I asked at the carriage door. 
 
 "I think it is best," she answered. "Best for both 
 of us," and she held out her hand. 
 
 I took her little palm in mine, and she gave a cry 
 of dismay. "You feel like a block of ice !" she cried. 
 Then I suppose some of the moisture from my sleeve 
 must have trickled upon her hand, for she passed it 
 hastily over my coat. "Why, you are soaking wet ! 
 How did you manage to get in such a state ?" 
 
 "It is impossible to avoid getting wet when there 
 is any sea on, and the weather was a trifle dirty for 
 the last couple of hours," I explained. 
 
 "You must think me an awful brute. I I was 
 asleep the whole of the time, and had not the slight- 
 est idea." The evident distress on her face was 
 ample compensation for all I had undergone. I 
 thought so then, and I think so still. "I should 
 never forgive myself if you were to be ill in conse-
 
 90 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 quence. Promise me," she added, "that you will 
 get a hot bath immediately you leave me, really hot, 
 mind, and go straight to bed." 
 
 I was too shivery to laugh, or I should have done 
 so. "You need not worry," I said. "It is not the 
 first time I have been in a similar plight without 
 experiencing any ill effects." 
 
 "You will promise me?" she urged. 
 
 "I shall be in a Turkish bath within ten minutes 
 of the departure of this train," I answered. 
 
 Then the guard's whistle shrilled and the train 
 began to move. I had imagined a sentimental leave- 
 taking, and the farewell had merely provided a 
 bathetic ending to my romance in the form of a rec- 
 ommendation to take a bath. No, it had not ended 
 there. As I stood gazing stupidly at the moving 
 train, Lady Melode came to the window of the com- 
 partment. A handkerchief fluttered in her hand for 
 a moment, then rolling it into a tiny ball she threw 
 it toward me before the carriage had cleared the 
 platform. There were not half a dozen people gath- 
 ered there to see friends off, and nobody but an el- 
 derly porter paid any attention to me as I picked 
 up the souvenir. He merely smiled and touched 
 his hat as I passed him on my way to the exit, and 
 I was so full of delight that I stopped and tipped 
 him half a crown. 
 
 I had placed the little square of cambric and lace 
 in my pocket, but no sooner was I in the street than
 
 AN UNEXPECTED FAREWELL 91 
 
 I took it out again and lifted it to my lips. Senti- 
 mental idiot, I hear people say. Perhaps, but after 
 all the sentimental moments of life are not the least 
 delightful. However, I am not going to moralise 
 on the subject. Indeed, I should not have referred 
 to the episode at all but for the fact that as I raised 
 the handkerchief to my lips I detected something 
 hard wrapped within. I stopped under the first lamp 
 and, unrolling the cambric, I found a ring secured 
 by a hastily tied knot in one corner. I turned the 
 trinket over in my hand curiously, for it was a 
 unique piece of work, and I judged it to be of some 
 value apart from its associations. It was shaped 
 like a snake, with the head thrown back over the 
 coils, of which there were half a dozen, and the open 
 mouth held a curiously cut diamond. I did not know 
 then that the stone was a diamond, and I should have 
 been just as pleased if the egg-shaped stone held in 
 the open jaws had been a piece of glass. What did 
 please me about the souvenir was the fact that the 
 coils were all open ones, and so elastic that, although 
 at first sight the ring seemed far too small, by the 
 exertion of a little pressure they widened sufficiently 
 to allow of its passing the knuckle of my little fin- 
 ger. 
 
 The rest of my doings that evening are of no par- 
 ticular interest. I hunted up the man who on for- 
 mer occasions had taken charge of the Petrel, and 
 made arrangements for the housing of my boat. Af-
 
 92 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 terward I found a Turkish bath, where I warmed 
 myself while my clothes were dried, and also par- 
 took of an indifferent meal. Then, finding I should 
 be able to catch the last train, and having nothing 
 to keep me in Southampton, I hastened to the sta- 
 tion and took a ticket to Waterloo. I fell asleep 
 directly I was settled in my corner, and did not 
 awaken until a ticket collector had me by the collar 
 and shook me into consciousness. After that I just 
 managed to keep awake until I reached my cham- 
 bers in Ryder Street, though I retain but a very 
 phantasmagoric recollection of my ride through Lon- 
 don. I just remember that the streets were all white, 
 that there was very little traffic about, and that my 
 bedroom was confoundedly cold. 
 
 I was warm enough when I awoke the next morn- 
 ing, if it is permissible to call three o'clock in the 
 afternoon morning. But a long while elapsed before 
 I could disentangle my sleeping and waking recol- 
 lections, and it was only the materialistic evidence 
 of the ring on my finger which ultimately convinced 
 me that the experiences of the preceding two days 
 had not been gathered in dreamland. Once satis- 
 fied on the point, I got up and found that I was none 
 the worse for the adventures in question. I was 
 furiously hungry, but I contented myself with a fair- 
 ly substantial breakfast or afternoon tea, intending 
 to dine later at the club. 
 
 Then I sat down to conwder the situation. I con-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED FAREWELL 93 
 
 sumed ten cigarettes without any result other than 
 the drafting and dispatching of a telegram to Coles 
 telling him that I should return to Paris the next 
 day. I was not sure that my decision was a wise 
 one, for I knew that I should in all probability be 
 called upon by d'Hautville for satisfaction for the 
 affront I had put upon him. But I did not see very 
 well how I could shirk my responsibility, and the 
 thought did occur to me that it was only through 
 some such encounter that I might be able to gain 
 some further knowledge of the identity of Lady 
 Melode without breaking my promise to make no 
 enquiries. Having arrived at the decision to return, 
 I left my rooms and despatched the wire myself on 
 the way to the club. 
 
 London was in the state of filth peculiar to it when 
 recovering from the effects of a heavy snowfall, and 
 the club was almost deserted when I arrived there. 
 Not that solitude mattered to me. The companion- 
 ship of my own thoughts was quite sufficient in view 
 of a message which I found awaiting me. As I en- 
 tered, the hall porter handed me a pile of letters 
 which had accumulated in my absence, and I carried 
 them with me into the smoking-room to open at my 
 leisure. The first dozen or so were merely the usual 
 formal Christmas greeting cards, and they went into 
 the fire one after another. Then came a letter in 
 a handwriting which was unknown to me, begin- 
 ning "Dear Mr. Hardinge," and turning to the end
 
 94 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 to see who was my correspondent, I could hardly 
 believe my eyes when I read the signature "Melode." 
 I have that letter still, and I treasure it amongst 
 the most valued of my possessions, for it was the 
 first I ever received from one who was to become 
 very dear to me. It is not the only letter in the 
 same bold, clear hand which is in my possession, but 
 on the majority of them no eye but my own shall 
 ever rest; but this one contains nothing which no 
 stranger might not read, and as it was to influence 
 my conduct in the near future, I set it down here 
 in full. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Hardinge," I read, "I suppose you 
 must be aware \vhat a mixed bundle of contradic- 
 tions goes to the making of a woman in addition to 
 the usual rag and a bone and a bundle of hair, and 
 so you may understand w r hy, after bidding you for- 
 get me, I at the moment of parting threw you a lit- 
 tle souvenir to remember me by. No, I am not going 
 to ask you to send it back to me. I hope you will 
 wear that little Indian ring, and that good fortune 
 will go with it. I am sure that you will not part 
 with it when I tell you that it is a talisman of no 
 mean repute. Given with the good-will of the giver, 
 it bestows wisdom and courage and safety from 
 sudden death. Of course, the two former gifts have 
 been anticipated by nature in your case, but the last 
 is not in the gift of nature, is it? Need I say that
 
 AN UNEXPECTED FAREWELL 95 
 
 it is with the good-will of the late owner that it 
 comes into your possession? Of course, you will 
 not believe in these talismanic virtues. I do not my- 
 self; but do you not think that the ingrained super- 
 stition in all of us sometimes responds to the sug- 
 gestion of occult influence with the happiest results ? 
 So if you are ever in any difficult position, remember 
 the talisman you wear. You will wear it, will you 
 not?" 
 
 "Of course, I will wear it," I muttered. "It shall 
 never leave my finger." 
 
 "One word more. Whatever impression you may 
 have formed of me, please do not think me either 
 ungrateful or selfish. I know it must be hard for 
 you to come to any other conclusion, seeing how I 
 made use of you for the furtherance of my own 
 plans, but I think if you knew how I am situated 
 you would find it in your heart to forgive me. It 
 may be that fate will permit of our meeting again 
 some day, and if so, I hope it may be kinder as to 
 the circumstances than on the recent occasion. In 
 all trust and confidence, let me still remain, 
 "Yours very gratefully, 
 
 "MELODE." 
 
 There was no address to the letter, and the en- 
 velope merely bore the postmark of the Southwestern
 
 96 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 London district. I read it a dozen times, I should 
 think, and then I went to the dining-room. The 
 place was empty save for a little party of four at 
 one end of the room. I was not sorry; in fact, I felt 
 aggrieved when another man who entered after me 
 made his way to my table, and, with a word to ask 
 if I had any objection, seated himself opposite me. 
 
 At any other time I should have been glad of the 
 companionship of the man who had joined me, for 
 from the first time I had met him I had liked him, 
 a liking tempered by curiosity. This curiosity was 
 shared by everyone else in the club, but inasmuch 
 as Meredith Mervyn was to play a part in the de- 
 velopment of my adventure, I may perhaps be per- 
 mitted to describe him with some detail.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE HISTORY OF A RING 
 
 MERRY MERVYN, as he was known to his inti- 
 mates, partly because of his name, but chiefly be- 
 cause even the ghost of a smile was never permitted 
 to disturb the serenity of his features, was one of a 
 type that every clubman knows. Everyone knew 
 vaguely what he had been, but no one knew precisely 
 what he did, where he lived, and what were his 
 means of subsistence. He had been in the Indian 
 Civil Service, but why he had left no one knew or 
 cared. Punctually at ten o'clock every morning he 
 would be seen entering the club doors, dropping ap- 
 parently from nowhere. Once within the doors, he 
 would hang up his hat and coat and betake himself 
 to the dining-room, where his breakfast would be 
 awaiting him at the corner table he always occupied. 
 Usually he remained at the club until five in the 
 afternoon, when he would disappear for a couple of 
 hours, to return about seven, dressed for dinner. 
 Then he would be seen in the smoking, billiard, or 
 card rooms, and finally, when the lights were begin- 
 ning to be turned off, he wlould disappear through 
 
 97
 
 98 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 the door as completely as if the night had swallowed 
 him. Without occupation of any kind, without even 
 a hobby, the club seemed to fill his existence. 
 
 He was popular in a negative kind of way. He 
 played a decent game of billiards and a really good 
 game of bridge. Though he did not talk much him- 
 self, he was an excellent listener, and when he did 
 make a remark it was usually couched in a sub-acid 
 vein of cynicism which suited his mirthless coun- 
 tenance. I had often remarked upon this gravity 
 of his, wondering whether it was a carefully culti- 
 vated pose, since I knew that he was not deficient 
 of a sense of humour. It seemed unnatural that a 
 man who was certainly under forty should never be 
 stirred to kindly laughter. Besides, the cast of his 
 countenance would have led no one to suppose that 
 he was congenitally deprived of the power to laugh. 
 His brow was open, his eyes met one frankly, and 
 were of the good-humoured blue-grey type, while 
 his mouth did not turn down at the corners, nor was 
 it of the thin-lipped variety. For the rest, he was 
 fair-haired, clean-shaven, and possessed of a well- 
 built figure; and when I say that he stood about five 
 feet ten in his boots, you can form a pretty good 
 idea of what he was like. 
 
 Such was the man who placed himself opposite me, 
 and on any other occasion I should have been de- 
 lighted with his company ; but on this evening my 
 head was so full of my own affairs that I fear I was
 
 THE HISTORY OF A RING 99 
 
 a little curt in my replies to his efforts at making 
 conversation, for by the end of my dinner he was 
 as silent as myself. I think I had even forgotten 
 his presence when I was suddenly awakened to it 
 again. I had taken up a pear to peel when I be- 
 came conscious that his eyes were fixedly regarding 
 the ring I wore, and immediately afterward he re- 
 marked quietly: "Excuse me, Mr. Hardinge, but 
 will you allow me to look more closely at your ring?" 
 
 I was annoyed at the request, and was about to 
 retort rather rudely, when he continued hastily : "It 
 is not idle curiosity which prompts me to ask, and 
 I shall be pleased to explain my reasons if you wish 
 me to do so." 
 
 He spoke so earnestly that my curiosity was 
 aroused in turn. "It is a unique piece of work, is 
 it not ?" I asked, as I held my hand across the table. 
 
 "It is a unique piece of work," he repeated, quiet- 
 ly. "There can hardly be two like it in existence." 
 
 "I hardly see why there should not," I answered. 
 
 "I can soon make certain," he said. 
 
 "Indeed?" I queried. 
 
 "Yes," he replied. "Allow me." He took my 
 hand and, laying it flat upon the table, pressed upon 
 the back of the snake head with his nail. To my 
 surprise the jaw opened, revealing a hollow in the 
 stone over which the jaw had closed like a lid. 
 
 "By Jove !" I said. "It is evident you know more
 
 100 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 about this ring than I do. I had not the slightest 
 idea that it contained any mechanism." 
 
 Mervyn regarded me so intently that I began to 
 feel vaguely uneasy. "I ought to know more about 
 it than you," he answered, after a while. "That 
 ring was once mine." 
 
 I gazed at him in blank astonishment. 
 
 "It was once mine," he repeated, "and I cannot 
 comprehend how it has come into your possession." 
 
 There was enquiry in his voice which at the mo- 
 ment I was not inclined to gratify. I merely re- 
 marked with a laugh : "Quite honestly, I can assure 
 you. It was given to me as a keepsake, and with 
 the assurance that it had talismanic virtues for the 
 protection of the wearer." 
 
 Again he scrutinised me with a most disconcert- 
 ing intentness. Then he rose from the table. "Look 
 here, Hardinge," he said. "Come into the smoking- 
 room for your coffee. We can easily find a quiet 
 corner to-night, and I will tell you the history of 
 that ring. Whether, after I have done so, you will 
 confide to me particulars bf how it came into your 
 possession I will leave entirely to you, though I 
 don't mind admitting that I should like to know." 
 
 I followed him into the smoking-room. It was 
 as deserted as the dining-room had been. We 
 wheeled a couple of chairs within a comfortable 
 distance of the fire, and when our coffee had been 
 brought, with liqueurs of the famous '46 brandy for
 
 THE HISTORY OF A RING 101 
 
 which the club is famous, we lighted our cigars and 
 I settled down to listen. 
 
 I had thought that Mervyn had exhibited signs 
 of excitement when he had identified the ring, but 
 when he began to speak, nothing of the sort was 
 apparent in his tone, though, as he had placed his 
 seat so that the light was behind him, I could not 
 see whether there was any change in the habitual 
 calm of his face. 
 
 "The story of that ring," he commenced, "is like 
 most stories where men and women are concerned 
 a story of folly. In this case mine was the folly, 
 and if I ask you to keep the story to yourself it is 
 for the simple reason that I prefer, like the average 
 fool, not to publish my folly broadcast." 
 
 I could not help asking why, under these circum- 
 stances, he had suggested confiding the story to me. 
 
 He flicked the ash from the end t>f his cigar be- 
 fore he answered, coolly : "I have not analysed the 
 reason. I spoke upon impulse. To-morrow I may 
 possibly regret the impulse, and yet well, when 
 you have heard what I have to tell you, you may be 
 able to understand that on occasion a cynical so- 
 journer in clubland may at times be capable of label- 
 ling himself fool if by so doing he may prevent an- 
 other man buying his experience at too high a rate." 
 
 "I do not see " I began. 
 
 " Hear me out," he said, and I was silent. "When 
 I wore that ring," he continued, "I must have been
 
 102 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 just about your age at the present day. I was just 
 as eager to enjoy life as yourself, just as enthusias- 
 tic in sport, and now my dinner, my game of bridge, 
 and my bed, are my main interests in life." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" I interjected. "You are young 
 still." 
 
 "I am forty," he answered, quietly, "but to all 
 intents and purposes I have finished with life. One 
 cannot pretend to enjoy the wine of life when one's 
 palate is gone." 
 
 "I do not think one can lose one's palate at forty," 
 I replied. 
 
 "You shall judge," replied he, grimly. "But let 
 me return to the ring. You probably have guessed 
 that it is Indian work, and if so, your guess would 
 be right. It was presented to me by a rajah in re- 
 turn for a political service which I rendered him, or 
 which he thought was due to my influence, some fif- 
 teen years ago. What its previous history had been 
 I knew not. He set great store by it, and told me 
 that it possessed all sorts of magic virtues, though 
 so far as I could see the object for which it had been 
 fashioned had been to contain enough poison in the 
 cavity to enable the owner to commit suicide in an 
 emergency. Well, I took the thing, and I wore it 
 for four or five years, and truly my luck was so great 
 that I became almost superstitious concerning the 
 ring. In those days I was in the Indian Civil. I 
 had no particular influence to back me, but after I
 
 THE HISTORY OF A RING 103 
 
 put that trinket on my finger I had the devil's own 
 luck. My work brought me into contact with the 
 heads of departments, and what with deaths and re- 
 tirements I found myself eventually installed at Gov- 
 ernment House in a confidential post, in personal 
 touch with the Viceroy, and looking forward confi- 
 dently to a career. I was not allowing for one fac- 
 tor. I did not allow for the woman. You see, there 
 was nothing unique about my folly. I fell in love." 
 
 I began to object. He silenced me with a ges- 
 ture. 
 
 "It was at Simla, ten years ago last June. I met 
 a girl there who appeared to be everything that all 
 the poets and romancists have described as delight- 
 ful in womanhood. I saw in her truth, honour, pur- 
 ity. What she really possessed was a dower of 
 beauty, a charming manner, and a most fascinating 
 voice." 
 
 I started so violently that Mervyn could not have 
 failed to observe my agitation. 
 
 "If ever you hear that voice, be careful," he ob- 
 served, drily. "I only wish I had been deaf to it 
 The owner was the daughter of a high-placed offi- 
 cial, and she had come out to see her father after 
 her first season. Naturally, she was the centre of 
 a big crowd, and you can imagine my delight when 
 she betrayed a preference for my society. She might 
 have looked higher, but my reputation at that time 
 was high, and her father did not disapprove. Then
 
 104 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 fate played me a scurvy trick. She accepted an invi- 
 tation to stay at Government House while her 
 father went up country on a shooting expedition. 
 Of course, I was delighted. I saw her every day, 
 and we became engaged. The ring you are wear- 
 ing was the pledge of our betrothal." 
 
 He sat in silence for a minute, glowering into 
 the fire, and I forbore to interrupt his thoughts. 
 
 "There is something in the atmosphere of Simla," 
 he continued, shortly, "w T hich makes men mad where 
 women are concerned. Take my case. If you look 
 up the Civil list at the time, you will see that the 
 berth I occupied was a supremely confidential one. 
 Now, just then, certain proposals \vere in trie air 
 for the ratification of a treaty between H. M. Gov- 
 ernment and the Ameer. Naturally, it was of the 
 first importance that n'o hint of these proposals 
 should reach the Great Enemy in the North. No- 
 body but the confidential emissary of the Afghan 
 ruler knew what was in the wind save my chief and 
 myself. Yet I told my fiancee everything. I trusted 
 her so implicitly that it never even occurred to me 
 that I was betraying any confidence in doing so. 
 To me it w-as merely as if I had talked to myself." 
 
 Again he was silent so long that I ventured to 
 throw out a suggestion which I guessed might save 
 him from the pain of concluding the narrative, for 
 I knew that he must feel deeply on the subject. 
 "And she babbled?" I hazarded.
 
 THE HISTORY OF A RING 105 
 
 "Babbled?" He laughed scornfully. The laugh 
 was not a pleasant one. "Babbled? You will see 
 that my folly was greater than that of merely trust- 
 ing to an ordinary woman's keeping silence where 
 a secret is concerned. But I will not anticipate. Her 
 father returned from his shooting expedition. Our 
 engagement was announced, and though I pressed 
 for an early wedding she insisted that it should take 
 place in England, and as my leave was due the fol- 
 lowing year, it was arranged that she should return 
 home at once and that I should follow six months 
 later. She went, and I remained in my fool's para- 
 dise for just about a month. My awakening was 
 rapid. It commenced in a manner totally unexpect- 
 ed, by a communication from the Ameer breaking 
 off all negotiations. When our agents at Cabul set 
 to work to find but the reason, my chief was in- 
 formed that our dear friend and ally had come to the 
 conclusion that the English had played him false by 
 revealing his proposals to the Russians. Though 
 amazed, I did not connect the revelation with my 
 fiancee. Then came a telegram from her stating 
 that she had left the boat at Trieste. Though won- 
 dering at the reason, I did not connect the two inci- 
 dents. A little later I received a letter in response 
 to my enquiries stating that she had left the boat in 
 company with another passenger. I was maddened 
 by the latter intelligence as well as utterly bewil- 
 dered. Then from one source and another items of
 
 106 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 information came to hand which opened my eyes 
 completely. The man with whom she had left the 
 boat was no new acquaintance. His name had been 
 coupled with hers to such an extent during her first 
 London season that her chaperone I forgot to men- 
 tion that she was motherless had thought it ad- 
 visable to send her out to India to her father. You 
 see, the man was not considered, even though he was 
 figuring as a French count, to be a desirable parti. 
 There was a suspicion that he was in the pay of the 
 Russian secret service, a suspicion which was cor- 
 rect. Under an assumed name he had been a pas- 
 senger on the same boat by which she had come out. 
 He had sailed for Europe by the boat on which she 
 had returned. It was easy for me to understand why 
 I had been fooled. A pleasant story, is it not?" He 
 laughed again. 
 
 "And that is all?" I asked lamely. He was not 
 the sort of man with whom one would venture to 
 commiserate. 
 
 "Not quite," he replied calmly. "I went to my 
 chief and told him everything. He seemed sorry for 
 me, and he even asked me to reconsider the resigna- 
 tion which I tendered at the same time. He knew 
 more than a little about men, and was disposed to 
 think that after my experience I should be worth 
 more than another who had his lesson to learn. But 
 I convinced him that it was my duty to seek out the 
 man who had beaten us. I resigned, and set out
 
 THE HISTORY OF A RING 107 
 
 for England. I am not going to worry you with the 
 details of my search. I found my man, and I recog- 
 nised him by means of the ring. Chance brought 
 him opposite me in a Paris restaurant, and even as 
 I did to-night I recognised the ring instantly. I did 
 not take long to broach my business. Indeed, he 
 himself supplied me with the opportunity. Noticing 
 the direction of my glance, he remarked : 'You seem 
 interested in my ring, m'sieu ?' 
 
 " 'I seem to have seen it before/ I answered. 
 
 "He looked at me with sudden interest, and I sup- 
 pose my appearance must have been described to him, 
 for comprehension rushed into his eyes. 
 
 " 'It is not impossible, m'sieu/ he answered, non- 
 chalantly, 'though I wear it as a gage d'amour. A 
 very charming countrywoman of yours presented it 
 to me.' 
 
 " 'Your wife?' I asked, for I had not learned all 
 then. 
 
 '*' 'But think, m'sieu/ he said. 'I am a man of 
 the world like yourself. What should we do with 
 wives ?' 
 
 ' 'If man of the world is the polite way of de- 
 scribing a mouchard, a liar, and a thief, you have 
 a just claim to the title/ I replied, with a distinct- 
 ness which brought a hush upon every table near the 
 one at w r hich we were seated. 
 
 "My attack left him for a moment speechless. 
 Then, half smiling, he waved his hand deprecatingly
 
 108 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 to a waiter who had come forward. 'M'sieu has 
 taken too much wine,' he remarked. 
 
 " 'Permit me to offer you at least one glass,' I 
 retorted, as I poured out a glassful and sent it full 
 in his face." 
 
 "Good !" I remarked. 
 
 "Hardly," replied Mervyn. "We met next morn- 
 ing. He had chosen swords, and he left me with 
 three holes in my anatomy which kept me on my 
 back for three months. As I asked you before, can 
 you imagine a more illuminating story of folly if you 
 tried?" 
 
 What could I say? I merely rose and held out 
 my hand. He looked at me whimsically for a mo- 
 ment, then he gripped it tightly as he remarked : "I 
 think I may trust you as a friend not to give me 
 away, Hardinge."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 'A RECOGNITION AT THE MORGUE 
 
 AFTER our mutual declaration of friendship I had 
 less hesitation in asking Mervyn for fuller details of 
 the story he had told me than I should otherwise 
 have done, with the consequence that, before we 
 parted, my brain was awhirl with conflicting doubts. 
 He described the girl who had so shamelessly be- 
 trayed him, and in set words he painted a picture 
 of Lady Melode. He sketched an accurate portrait 
 of d'Hautville when giving me a description of his 
 successful rival. The girl's name alone was differ- 
 ent. The name of the girl who had wrecked his life 
 had been Temple Molly Temple; but, as he said, 
 and I could not help agreeing, "A name may be 
 thrown aside as easily as a worn-out glove." 
 
 Yet despite the evidence of identification, backed 
 up by the evidence of the ring, I could not bring my- 
 self to the belief that my Lady Melode was one with 
 the abandoned creature Mervyn had depicted. Long 
 after I parted from him I sat looking into the fire 
 
 with a great dread upon me, lest my doubts should 
 
 109
 
 110 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 become certainties, and it was only when I realised 
 that any amount of brooding over the matter would 
 lead to no conclusion that I turned in. 
 
 The next morning I set off to Paris again. I 
 had not given Mervyn the details of my adventure, 
 though I had it in my mind to do so when I returned 
 again to London. My journey was quite without 
 incident, and so far as I could gather from the en- 
 quiries I made at the Grand, my absence had not 
 been the occasion of any notice. I packed Coles off 
 to Havre straightway to bring back my car, while 
 remaining myself in Paris in order to give d'Haut- 
 ville a chance, if he so desired, of asking the usual 
 explanation. 
 
 It was dull work. I hated mooning helplessly 
 about waiting for something or other to transpire, 
 and in the hope that I might meet d'Hautville and 
 give him a chance to bring matters to a climax I 
 spent the greater part of the day after my arrival at 
 the Automobile Club. But he did not put in an ap- 
 pearance, and when evening arrived the fancy oc- 
 curred to me to traverse once more the ground I had 
 passed over on Christmas night. So I sat for an 
 hour outside the Cafe la Paix, but d'Hautville did 
 not take a seat at my table. I dined at the same res- 
 taurant, I visited the Quatz' Arts, but no one took 
 the slightest notice of me. I hired a cab and was 
 driven to the Quai d'Auteuil, but the door by which 
 I had entered was shut fast and the whole house
 
 A RECOGNITION AT THE MORGUE 111 
 
 might have been empty, for not a light was visible 
 on any floor. I was tired out by the time I reached 
 my hotel, and, disgusted beyond measure at my own 
 folly, I went to bed. 
 
 The next day was bitterly cold, with occasional 
 snow showers, but I was far too restless to remain 
 indoors, and I wandered about the streets, careless 
 whither my footsteps carried me. It was thus I 
 came eventually to the Morgue, and out of mere idle 
 curiosity I entered. 
 
 The place was unusually empty. The usual throng 
 gathered there to sate their morbid taste for the 
 gruesome was absent, though three slabs behind the 
 glass were occupied. As I entered, two or three 
 people, a plump dame from the market, a gamin of 
 ten or thereabouts and a youth of twenty of the 
 Apache type passed out and I went straight towards 
 the exit, feeling as if there were an extra chill in the 
 atmosphere and muttering a curse at my foolishness 
 in entering. Still my eyes turned instinctively to the 
 silent figures awaiting recognition, and when my 
 glance fell on the third I paused. 
 
 Surely the face of the third figure was familiar. 
 Where had I seen it? The face of a girl, slightly 
 distorted as if fear had of a sudden gripped her and 
 death followed so swiftly that the expression had 
 frozen there. Then as I stood and gazed there came 
 back to me the memory of Christmas night. I sat 
 again amongst the crowded audience at the Quatz'
 
 Arts. The door opened. A surprised voice ex- 
 claimed, "Eh ! Bon jour, m'sieu." I heard again the 
 chorus of greeting, and I knew where I had seen 
 that face before, for it was the face of the girl who 
 had entered and drawn back, and later had entered 
 again and thrown her arms around my neck. It was 
 those arms lying so stiffly thrust out which had em- 
 braced me. It was those pallid lips which had lured 
 me to the house on the Quai d'Auteuil. Distorted 
 though it was by fear, changed with the touch of 
 death, I recognised the face as the face of Lucille 
 beyond the possibility of doubt. 
 
 With realisation of the fact I, too I think, for the 
 first time in my life learned what fear is. I learned 
 what it is to be robbed of all power of volition, to 
 feel my heart beating in my throat. A mist swept 
 across my eyes, and only by gripping at the rail in 
 front of the glass, did I prevent myself from falling. 
 A cold dew burst out upon my skin and I felt unut- 
 terably sick. I had sense enough left me to know 
 that I must get away from the place, and I staggered 
 rather than walked to the exit. 
 
 It was good to breathe the fresh pure air outside 
 that charnel-house, and as I opened my lungs to it 
 my senses came back to me. Then I turned and 
 walked away. I walked quickly, but not fast enough 
 to escape the spectral face of the dead girl. By a 
 vivid flash of intuition I knew that again I had 
 stumbled by chance upon another link of the mysteri-
 
 A RECOGNITION AT THE MORGUE 113 
 
 ous chain of events which had twined about me. I 
 had no reason then for coming to such a conclusion, 
 but I had not long to wait before I had a very good 
 reason for doing so. After walking rapidly for a 
 few minutes, vainly striving to arrange my thoughts, 
 I found myself under the shadow of Notre Dame, 
 and the idea, whimsical enough to ensure my acting 
 upon it in my then frame of mind, that if I could 
 only get away, and be alone away from the people 
 and the streets, my thoughts would range them- 
 selves, possessed itself of me. Notre Dame supplied 
 the means even as it had suggested the idea, and I 
 entered the little door in the tower in haste to ascend 
 to the top. The custodian must have thought me 
 madder than the average Englishman as he took my 
 fee, but he was too polite to say what he evidently 
 thought, and I commenced the ascent. 
 
 I began to regret my idea by the time I was half 
 way to the top of the tower, for I fancied I heard 
 footsteps keeping pace with mine up the dark stair- 
 case, pausing when I paused and coming on again 
 when I went on. I attributed the footsteps to my 
 excited imagination and, persisting in the ascent, 
 came at length to the platform where the devils 
 in their caps of snow looked out upon the city. I, 
 too, looked down on the maze of roofs, and for the 
 moment forgot my harassing thoughts in the spec- 
 tacle of beauty presented to me. The clouds had 
 cleared and the wintry sun, already nearing the hori-
 
 114, THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 zon, glowed redly upon the fair prospect of snowy 
 pinnacles and roofs. Surely Paris had never seemed 
 so pure and fair to mortal eye before. Underneath 
 that veil 
 
 My thoughts were not long to be diverted from 
 the underlying world by the fair veil which covered 
 it. Again I seemed to hear the sound of advancing 
 footsteps. Determined not to be tricked by my im- 
 agination, I refused to turn my head even when they 
 seemed to have reached the platform on which I 
 stood. But it was no trick of my imagination. A 
 mocking voice not a yard from me exclaimed, "Eh ! 
 Bon jour, m'sieu." 
 
 Luckily for me there was a balustrade between 
 myself and the abyss, or the start I gave would have 
 sent me whirling downwards. I would ask any of 
 my readers to imagine themselves in my place, and 
 ask them how they would have felt when they heard 
 the words which had been ringing in my brain from 
 the moment I had recognised the body of Lucille 
 lying in the Morgue, veritably spoken in their ear. 
 I know it sent all my remaining self-control to the 
 winds. 
 
 My involuntary movement made me wheel round 
 and brought me face to face with the speaker. 
 
 It was d'Hautville. I recognised him instantly. 
 Not a yard separated me from the man whose un- 
 known plans I had thwarted, the man whose ma- 
 chinations had produced such a disastrous effect on
 
 A RECOGNITION AT THE MORGUE 115 
 
 Mervyn's life. With the realisation, however, that 
 it was no spectral body with whom I had to deal, 
 but with a living adversary, who had been at my 
 heels during my ascent to the roof, my courage re- 
 turned, though no words came from my lips with 
 which to return the mocking greeting. 
 
 D'Hautville noted my silence, and he repeated the 
 salutation with additional emphasis. I still remained 
 silent, and he continued : 
 
 "You are not pleased to see me, m'sieu, or is it that 
 the words awaken unpleasant memories?" 
 
 "The greeting, since I have heard it from your 
 lips, will always awaken unpleasant memories, M. le 
 Comte," I retorted sourly. 
 
 He laughed. "You flatter me. Yet I guess that 
 the words sound not so sweetly from my lips as from 
 the lips of any one of m'sieu's thousand admirers. 
 These simple words haunt one at times, is it not so ?" 
 
 Was he the fiend himself that he could be so well 
 aware of all that had been passing in my brain? The 
 words were spoken lightly, but with an intention I 
 could not fail to perceive. A wonder as to his object 
 in following me began to take possession of me. He 
 would hardly have dogged my footsteps to this 
 lonely spot in order to call me to account for the 
 blow I had dealt him. At any rate, if such was his 
 object, he made no attempt to achieve it. He leaned 
 easily against a buttress, looking at me intently. 
 Even so I regarded him, and I saw the marks of my
 
 116 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 handiwork plainly visible in his face, though evident 
 efforts had been made to hide them with cosmetiques. 
 
 "If you have any message for me I am ready to 
 hear it," I said, after I had scrutinised him carefully 
 awhile, "though I should have expected to receive 
 the message through some friend of M. le Comte's." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "If you are in so 
 great a hurry to make an end of life there is an open 
 door and an easy road." He waved his hand to- 
 wards the gulf at my feet. 
 
 "I should not take that path even if I were to per- 
 suade you to tread it before me," I answered shortly, 
 for the self-complacency of the man nettled me. 
 
 He laughed again lightly, though at the same 
 time he withdrew a couple of paces further from me 
 in the direction of the -door which gave entrance on 
 to the platform. But his voice remained quite even 
 as he continued: "Really, Mr. Hardinge, you are 
 amazingly bluff, even for one of your race. If you 
 really comprehended how much I have your welfare 
 at heart I am sure you would not adopt this shall I 
 say cold attitude towards me." 
 
 I knew not what to reply, so I waited for him to 
 continue. 
 
 "Possibly you will not believe me when I tell you 
 that my presence here is purely due to my over- 
 powering desire to save you from the consequences 
 of your own actions."
 
 A RECOGNITION AT THE MORGUE 117 
 
 "I certainly shall not believe you," I answered 
 heartily. 
 
 "But listen," he said. His voice was of velvety 
 smoothness, with an evenness of intonation which 
 was reminiscent of the purr of a cat. "For a gentle- 
 man who makes it his business in life to concern him- 
 self with other persons' affairs, m'sieu, if not en- 
 tirely reckless, is at least imprudent. For instance, 
 after the adventures of the last few days, it was, I 
 say, unwise for m'sieu to return to Paris. It was 
 more than unwise for m'sieu immediately upon his 
 return to visit the Morgue. M'sieu starts. I feel 
 sure he must agree with me. Why should he visit 
 the Morgue unless he should expect to see there some 
 form or face familiar to him ? If so, it is the height 
 of imprudence to make such a call unless he has his 
 emotions under perfect control. M'sieu looks and 
 m'sieu finds, and when he finds and cannot control 
 his emotion, m'sieu excites suspicion. Suppose his 
 emotion leads to enquiries. M'sieu of course would 
 court enquiries. Let us suppose that the enquiries 
 are made. What would be revealed ? A number of 
 people would remember m'sieu being greeted famil- 
 iarly at a cafe, the Quatz' Arts, is it not ? Doubtless 
 some of them have already identified the girl now 
 lying at the Morgue and would not fail to recognise 
 m'sieu. Possibly the cocker who drove m'sieu and 
 his pretty companion to the house at the Quai d'Au- 
 teuil might also be discovered. He also might iden-
 
 118 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 tify m'sieu. Enquiries might show that from that 
 time m'sieu's companion is not seen until her body is 
 picked up in the Seine. She has not been drowned. 
 Oh, no. The end has come with a knife thrust in 
 the heart. The police search the apartment to which 
 m'sieu and his companion were driven and they find 
 all the signs of a struggle and much blood. Surely 
 I have m'sieu's interest at heart when I tell him that 
 he is unwise to return to Paris." 
 
 I can give no idea of the mockery in his voice as he 
 concluded. I made an effort to answer him, though 
 he had induced in me the feeling that I was caught 
 in a net and that any movement I made would only 
 draw it more tightly about me. 
 
 "M'sieu would at least be able to say with whom 
 he left his companion," I answered. 
 
 "There would of course be m'sieu's word and the 
 word of Lady Melode also. But I think not the lat- 
 ter. Then I think m'sieu begins to comprehend why 
 there will be no necessity for my sending my sec- 
 onds to his friends." 
 
 I suppose I must have revealed in my face that it 
 would not be possible for me to call upon Lady 
 Melode for verification of my departure. I think 
 now that it was in order to learn exactly how much 
 I had gathered concerning the companion of my 
 flight that he had sought the interview, and that he 
 had been reassured by my manner that I was still 
 ignorant of her identity.
 
 A RECOGNITION AT THE MORGUE 119 
 
 "What the devil is the meaning of all this?" I 
 said, putting the best face I could upon my waver- 
 ing courage. 
 
 "M'sieu comprehends my meaning clearly 
 enough," replied my tormentor. "He understands 
 that I have his welfare at heart, though of course I 
 expect his gratitude in return, gratitude that he will 
 show by crossing my path no more." 
 
 "That is your own business," I answered. "I 
 have never sought you out yet." 
 
 "Nor my path alone," he continued. "M'sieu 
 need fear no trouble provided he is wise enough 
 to see no more of the lady whom he so foolishly be- 
 friended, provided that he does not seek her out, and 
 provided that should fate bring him again into her 
 presence he should turn away. If m'sieu is wise in 
 this respect he may yet escape the guillotine or the 
 lie du Diable." 
 
 I was better able to deal with the menace of his 
 later words than the mocking suggestion of his ear- 
 lier speech. "I'll make no promise," I cried, but I 
 cried to empty space. His face, impassive as one of 
 the gargoyles which had watched us out of its stony 
 eyes, had vanished. He had not waited to hear my 
 reply to his threat. He had turned and gone away 
 swiftly. 
 
 "I refuse," I cried again, and only the echo of my 
 own words was thrown back to me from the roof of 
 the cathedral.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE HOUSE OF PHOTOGRAPHS 
 
 FOR half an hour after d'Hautville's departure I 
 remained leaning on the parapet and gazing upon the 
 white-robed city spread out before me, while the sun 
 sank lower and lower, flushing to a deeper vermilion 
 as it approached the horizon and at last flooding the 
 slopes of the roofs with so rosy a light that my fair 
 w r hite city was turned into a city of blood. The 
 silence was profound, intensified by the low murmur 
 which reached me from the streets below. It was 
 so peaceful that I did not stir until the uneasy twit- 
 tering of the sparrows warned me that if I lingered 
 much longer I should probably find myself belated on 
 the roof, or forced to remain for the night on the 
 cold stones of the staircase, and having no desire 
 to keep a winter vigil on Notre Dame I retraced my 
 steps to the earth. 
 
 That half hour's silent consideration did me good. 
 It enabled me to arrange my thoughts, to see clearly 
 the nature of the trap in which I had been caught, 
 though without bringing me a single step nearer 
 comprehension of the why and wherefore of my in- 
 
 120
 
 THE HOUSE OF PHOTOGRAPHS 121 
 
 volvement. Nor did I see any way out of my diffi- 
 culty. The most sensible course to pursue, I knew, 
 was to go at once to the police and confide to them 
 the whole story. Thereby I might not only protect 
 myself, but assist justice in placing them on the track 
 of the murderer of Lucille. I had no doubt in my 
 own mind as to who was responsible for the crime. 
 D'Hautville had shown too close an acquaintance 
 with the details to be able to plead ignorance of a 
 first-hand knowledge of it. But I shrank from the 
 sensible course for two reasons. The first was 
 purely personal. D'Hautville's reasoning as to the 
 train of circumstantial evidence against me was un- 
 doubtedly strong. I realised that the story I had to 
 tell was on the face of it incredible. How could I 
 ask any one to believe that all my actions had been 
 inspired by a desire to be of service to a woman 
 whose name I did not know, even though I had been 
 in her company for a full twenty-four hours, and 
 of whose present whereabouts I had not the faintest 
 idea ? How could I expect the police to believe me ? 
 Even if not forthwith placed under arrest I should 
 at least be an object for suspicion and probably be 
 kept under strict surveillance. My second reason 
 was not so purely selfish. I remembered the great 
 anxiety displayed by Lady Melode in keeping her 
 incognito, and I knew that once the story of the do- 
 ings of that night were revealed it would be beyond 
 my power to shield her. I still cherished a faith in
 
 122 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 my Lady Melocle, and I could not of my own initia- 
 tive set in motion any power which might bring a 
 breath of scandal upon her name. It seemed to me 
 that the only thing for me to do was to remain per- 
 fectly passive and await the outcome of events, little 
 as I relished a policy of inaction. I certainly should 
 have liked to have taken some steps to elucidate the 
 mystery of the death of Lucille, but here my common 
 sense told me that any effort I made would probably 
 result in winding the chain of circumstantial evi- 
 dence connecting me with the affair still more closely 
 about me, so that here again my hands were tied. 
 
 A policy of inaction did not necessarily mean 
 flight, and after careful deliberation, having come to 
 the conclusion that for some reason or other the 
 object of d'Hautville's threats was to drive me from 
 Paris, I decided to remain. I was sorely tempted to 
 break this resolution the next morning when Coles 
 made his appearance to ask for my orders for the 
 day. I think he rather expected to hear that we were 
 starting on our journey southward, for he looked 
 quite disappointed when I told him that I was only 
 going for a short run. He merely replied, "Very 
 good, sir," and disappeared. A laconic man was 
 Coles, and I believe that if I had bidden him drive 
 me to hell he would have replied with the same 
 words, and have taken me over the first precipice 
 that offered itself on the road, so great a particular- 
 ist was he in his obedience to orders. So far as I
 
 THE HOUSE OF PHOTOGRAPHS 123 
 
 could see he betrayed not the slightest surprise at my 
 recent erratic movements, nor did the slightest curi- 
 osity concerning them show itself in his face. 
 
 I had no particular plans when I entered the car 
 an hour later, but I suppose it is hardly to be won- 
 dered at that I insensibly made for Versailles. The 
 morning was delightful, bright and frosty, and de- 
 spite nearly an inch of snow on the roads outside 
 the barrier, I managed to put the car along at a pace 
 which produced a pleasant sense of exhilaration. 
 There was no hint of a thaw, and the snow was 
 more like dust than anything else, and we threw 
 up as big a cloud behind us as we should have raised 
 from an English main road at the end of a rainless 
 July. 
 
 At Versailles we stopped for dejeuner, and while 
 we partook of the meal I obtained from Coles par- 
 ticulars of the journey from Havre. He had very 
 little to tell me. He had found the car very dirty, 
 he said that it had taken him a good six hours' hard 
 work to get it into trim, but no damage had been 
 done, and he had brought it back without a single 
 stop except at the barrier on entering Paris. I asked 
 him whether any one had questioned him about 
 myself. 
 
 "Only the hotel people," he replied. "They did 
 ask me a lot of questions, but what with my. French 
 being like a two-horse motor-bike on a one-four gra- 
 dient and their English like a four-cylinder engine
 
 124. THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 with three of the cylinders backfiring all the time, I 
 don't think they learned much. From what I did 
 understand, the gent as keeps the hotel and him as 
 looks after the Petrel seemed more surprised at see- 
 ing me back again than anything else. They seem 
 to have made up their minds that nothing would 
 ever be heard of us again." 
 
 "Of your coming back ?" I queried in surprise. 
 
 "They seemed to recognise the coat and cap and 
 goggles, and thinking it best, sir, you not having said 
 anything to me, I didn't let on as I hadn't been with 
 you, as I should have liked to have been." 
 
 "I should certainly have taken you if I had known 
 where to find you at the moment," I replied I was 
 glad to think that Lady Melode's incognito had been 
 so carefully preserved, and I added, "If anybody 
 else asks you any questions, I think you may as well, 
 stick to the story that you accompanied me." 
 
 "Very good, sir," he answered. "I hope you had 
 a pleasant trip, sir ?" 
 
 I gave him a brief technical history of the run both 
 in the car and the boat, to which he listened with in- 
 terest, making an observation now and again when- 
 ever I referred to any of the minor difficulties I had 
 had with the motors. I did not mention the name 
 of my companion, nor did I refer to the reasons 
 which had led me to take the trip, though in view 
 of any eventuality I was half inclined to take him 
 into my confidence, since I had a thorough knowl-
 
 edge of his trustworthiness. Still I did not do so, 
 and our luncheon finished, we were speedily awheel 
 again. 
 
 Then, having nothing better to do, the fancy took 
 me to try and pick out the path upon which I had 
 followed the blue car on the last occasion when I had 
 been at Versailles. At the start I had no difficulty. 
 I ran along the main road and easily found the tree- 
 shaded avenue where I had left it. And now for the 
 first time I realised -the nerve which Lady Melode 
 possessed. It was not an easy track in broad day- 
 light, and I wondered that I had negotiated it safely 
 in the darkness, even with the lights of the blue car 
 in front to serve me as a guide. How she managed 
 to get through without accident at the pace at 
 which she had travelled I could not understand, and 
 I was filled with admiration at her pluck in attempt- 
 ing the feat. I found the next turning beyond a 
 cottage, which I clearly remembered because of a 
 whitewashed wall which I had been within an ace of 
 mistaking for the open road. But after that I was 
 all at sea, for the country was much intersected with 
 by-roads, and it was impossible to remember all the 
 turnings I had taken. But here luck came to my aid. 
 When I had quite given up hope of finding my way, 
 I saw before me a pair of iron gates which seemed 
 familiar in design. I drove up to them, and then 
 I knew that I had come again to the house at which 
 Lady Melode had stopped and where I had first
 
 126 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 heard her voice. Only a glimpse of the house was 
 visible through the screen of snow-laden evergreens 
 guarding it from the road, so stopping my car, I 
 dismounted and stepped up to the gate with the in- 
 tention of entering. 
 
 Snow was resting on the latch and in the drive 
 beyond, neither wheel nor footmark breaking the 
 smooth surface. Yet no snow had fallen for the 
 past twenty-four hours. It looked very much as if 
 the house was uninhabited. 
 
 "Stop the engine," I said to Coles. "I want an 
 excuse for calling here. I am sure you can find a 
 loose nut that wants tightening, and for this occa- 
 sion we have lost our spanner." 
 
 "Very good, sir," he answered, as, lifting the 
 latch of the gate, I entered the drive. 
 
 Directly I had passed the belt of trees interposed 
 between the house and the road, I found confirma- 
 tion of my surmise that the house was untenanted. 
 The snow lay unbroken right up to and upon the 
 steps leading to the front door. The lower win- 
 dows were close shuttered and the uncurtained upper 
 casements seemed so many dead eyes. Nevertheless, 
 in the hope that a caretaker might be somewhere on 
 the premises. I made my way to the entrance and 
 pulled the bell vigorously. The bell pealed noisily 
 through the house, but no one responded to the sum- 
 mons. I turned away and passed round the angle 
 of the building to the servants' entrance. The back
 
 THE HOUSE OF PHOTOGRAPHS 127 
 
 of the house was as destitute of any signs of habi- 
 tation as the front had been, and the snow showed 
 no signs of footprints anywhere. Still I knocked 
 at the door formally, without anticipating any re- 
 sponse, and I was about to retire when I idly turned 
 the handle. To my surprise the door was unfastened 
 and it swung open at the pressure of my hand. 
 Waiting for a few more seconds to see if there was 
 any movement within, I entered and, passing along a 
 passage, found myself in the kitchen of the estab- 
 lishment. It was empty, with a litter of odds and 
 ends strewn about as if it had been vacated in a 
 hurry. Feeling pretty certain by this time that the 
 house was unoccupied, I passed through another 
 passage into the entrance hall. The floors were bare 
 and every room on the ground floor bore the same 
 signs of hasty evacuation. The place did not seem 
 to me to have been long uninhabited, for the wall 
 papers were fresh and bright, and the musty scent of 
 the unoccupied house was conspicuously absent. I 
 went upstairs, and here a mere glance into each room 
 was sufficient to assure me that each was empty. 
 Growling to myself at the unsatisfactory termina- 
 tion of my search, I returned downstairs and re- 
 traced my steps along the passage leading to the back 
 entrance. On my way I observed a door of a room 
 I had not entered and I tried the handle. To my 
 surprise the door was locked. I passed on until I 
 came to the exit. There was no one about. I re-
 
 128 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 turned and tried the fastened door again. With a 
 smile at the absurdity of the thought that I should 
 find anything hidden behind, I drew myself up 
 against the opposite wall of the passage and hurled 
 myself against the barrier. The lock was not strong 
 enough to withstand the weight of my twelve stone, 
 and bursting away from the hasp, the door flew 
 open and I tumbled head foremost into the closed 
 room. 
 
 As I picked myself up I gathered that I was in a 
 studio of a sort built out from the house. Only a dim 
 light filtered into the apartment from a snow-laden 
 skylight in the roof, but enough to show me that the 
 room was furnished and that more light might be 
 obtained from three curtained and shuttered win- 
 dows stretching on one side. I straightway unbarred 
 the shutters of one window and glanced around. I 
 observed that the place seemed to have been but re- 
 cently inhabited, for there were ashes in the stove, 
 coffee cups and liqueur glasses stood on a little table, 
 and a pair of slippers lay on a rug as if they had just 
 been thrown aside. But the room was unoccupied 
 now, and I glanced at the walls. Pictures of some 
 sort covered them, and another stood on an easel at 
 the end farthest from the entrance. The light from 
 the one window I had unbarred was not sufficient to 
 enable me to see the subjects, so I unshuttered the 
 others and drew back the curtains to the fullest ex-
 
 THE HOUSE OF PHOTOGRAPHS 129 
 
 tent. When I had done this I turned round to make 
 a more complete survey. 
 
 A brilliant light from the window I had last un- 
 curtained fell full upon the picture standing on the 
 easel, and at sight of it the blood rushed to my head 
 and I swayed back against the wall. For a few sec- 
 onds my vision was blurred, but as my sight came 
 back to me you can imagine my feelings perhaps 
 you cannot, but no matter when I saw standing on 
 the easel a life-size portrait of the girl woman 
 she whom I knew as Lady Melode. There was no 
 mistaking the face, every feature of it had been 
 burned in upon my memory. Even as in the picture, 
 so she had looked at me with challenging eyes ; even 
 as in the picture her lips slightly parted had smiled 
 upon me. But it was not the recognition of these 
 details that set my brain whirling. It was a life-size 
 portrait a portrait of the nude. The challenge of 
 the eyes and of the smile was accompanied by the 
 allurement of uplifted arms as posed in an attitude 
 of welcome she appeared to be stepping from the 
 frame to greet all comers. The picture was not the 
 work of a painter ; but, worse to my mind by far, the 
 production of a photographer, and the camera had 
 reproduced only too faithfully the detail that the 
 artist would have eliminated. 
 
 The sight of the portrait shattered at one blow all 
 the illusions I had formed regarding the woman 
 whom I had endowed in my thoughts with all the
 
 130 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 qualities of womanhood. At that moment I hated 
 her intensely, despite her undeniable beauty. I 
 turned away from the easel to glance at the other 
 pictures on the walls. There were twenty or thirty 
 of them, all portraits of Lady Melode in a variety of 
 stages of dishabille, or posed for the nude. There 
 was a sneer on my lips when I finished my survey. 
 After all, I thought d'Hautville was not far wrong 
 when he told me that it would be better in my own 
 interests to have nothing to do with the woman. I 
 laughed loudly to think that I should have been so 
 imposed upon by a woman of such sort. I came 
 back to the easel again, and the sight of the picture 
 set free a spirit of anger within me. If the original 
 had been there I should have killed her at that mo- 
 ment, despite the fact, perhaps all the more because 
 of it, that I could not look upon the photograph 
 without my head growing hot and my pulses 
 beating fast. So hot grew my anger at last 
 that it overmastered my sanity. I took the picture 
 from the easel, and rending the frame, I tore the 
 thing to pieces. Then I ranged round the room, 
 leaving not one single specimen of the other photo- 
 graphs recognisable, and when I had destroyed the 
 lot I turned and went out of the house.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS 
 
 COLES was executing an impromptu war-dance in 
 the snow, with the object of keeping his fingers and 
 toes alive, when I returned to the gate. 
 
 "Seen any one?" I asked. 
 
 "Not a soul, sir," he replied. "Shall I start the 
 engine?" 
 
 "Yes," I said. "We will get back to Paris as soon 
 as we can and to-morrow we will go south as fast as 
 the car will take us." 
 
 "Very good, sir," he answered, with an emphasis 
 on the "very" which was the strongest form of ap- 
 proval that he ever permitted himself to bestow upon 
 any of my projects. 
 
 I had no difficulty in finding my way out of the 
 tangle of cross-roads, for after a couple of turns 
 taken at random, I struck the broad main road and 
 put the bonnet of the car in the direction of Paris. 
 I knew pretty well whereabouts we were by this 
 time, and at any other time I should have felt a keen 
 delight in the ride before me, for the road cut 
 through the Forest of Fontainebleau. But my heart
 
 132 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 was sick, and the sight of the fairyland into which 
 we soon entered failed to appeal to me. I was in the 
 vein to declare all beauty a mere cloak for corrup- 
 tion, and beneath the fair white snow I fancied 
 masses of foul fungi and rotting garbage. It was 
 stupid, of course, but this is a faithful record of my 
 doings and feelings, and I have no desire to pose 
 as a philosopher. Therefore, I must admit that I 
 made haste to leave the country behind and wel- 
 comed the sight of the town. The glare of the elec- 
 tric light was at the moment far more congenial 
 to me than nature in her unsympathetic winter mood. 
 I had felt lonely on Christmas day, but it was 
 nothing to the black cloud of depression which de- 
 scended on me this particular evening. When I 
 look back upon those hours now, I wonder that I was 
 not led to the perpetration of some more outrage- 
 ous folly than even that of which I had been guilty. 
 Why I was not so led I cannot tell, probably be- 
 cause the little devil of opportunity kept out of my 
 way. I know I sought an attractive folly in half a 
 dozen haunts where customarily she might be found, 
 finishing up with supper at Maxime's, but I found no 
 distraction, only an increasing weariness of the flesh. 
 I did not even remain at Maxime's to finish my meal, 
 for when half way through supper a noted demi- 
 mondaine seated at an adjoining table began to make 
 her already sufficiently decollete costume still more 
 decollete in response to the challenge of one of her
 
 companions, who dared her to disrobe. I came 
 away. Her action reminded me of those photo- 
 graphs of the woman I was striving to forget. 
 
 I went back to my hotel, and tossing about sleep- 
 lessly all the night, I was glad when the morning 
 came. Then I just scribbled a letter to Mervyn, 
 telling him that I had discovered all that I wanted, 
 and was resuming my interrupted tour, and, after 
 settling my bills, I set forth on my travels. 
 
 I am not going to give an account of them here, 
 for they have no bearing upon the story I have taken 
 upon myself to relate. I doubt, indeed, whether I 
 could give any complete account of them. My rest- 
 lessness led me hither and thither, first southward 
 to the Riviera, then eastward through Italy and on 
 into Austria, and then southward again into parts 
 where I doubt if a motor car had ever been seen be- 
 fore. I experienced the usual difficulties, not the 
 least being the impossibility of procuring petrol, 
 and on three or four occasions I found myself 
 stranded in out of the way parts of the world for 
 three or four days at a time, until I could get a sup- 
 ply forwarded to me. I had worn the keen edge off 
 my disappointment, however, when I came back to 
 the Riviera in February, where I stayed for a week 
 at Nice, filling up my time at the Casino while my 
 car was being thoroughly overhauled. I had phenom- 
 enal luck. Every time I sat down at the table I rose 
 again with my pockets full of my winnings, and at
 
 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 last when I entered the rooms a little crowd would 
 gather about me and follow my play. I had no de- 
 sire to be a walking advertisement for the Casino, 
 so I hurried off as soon as my car was ready. I did 
 not make my way directly homewards. While stay- 
 ing at Nice I had seen in the motoring papers that 
 a new race for amateurs only was proposed to be 
 brought off in the ensuing season over the Auvergne 
 circuit, and with a view of entering it, I thought I 
 should like to see what the course was like. So I 
 went on to Royat and spent three days there, run- 
 ning over the courses once on each day. The roads 
 were in a beastly condition, but I gained a fair 
 knowledge of the track nevertheless, and when I had 
 obtained a sufficient acquaintance with the difficulties 
 to be encountered in a race, I set my face north- 
 wards again, and early in March found myself once 
 more in London. 
 
 During the whole period of my absence, save for 
 a few mere acquaintances I had met at Monte Carlo, 
 I had not seen a familiar face, and not once met a 
 man whom I might have labelled friend. With one 
 exception I had nearly forgotten the faithful Coles. 
 Though he was a valet-chauffeur at a fixed weekly 
 wage, I think I may claim that he was also my 
 friend, and a real good one at that. Whatever my 
 mood, he was always the same imperturbably cheer- 
 ful Coles. Whatever contretemps befell, his serenity 
 was never ruffled. If he guessed that anything was
 
 THE GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS 135 
 
 troubling me, never by word or look did he hint at 
 his knowledge. I learned a good deal of him during 
 the two months when he was my sole companion. I 
 had broken through the wall of his "Very good, sir," 
 and found that he was a very level-headed, clean- 
 minded specimen of humanity, with a much wider 
 outlook on life than his enthusiasm for the mechan- 
 ism of a motor would lead one to suppose. 
 
 Coles, then, had proved himself companionable 
 enough to supply all my necessities for a couple of 
 months ; nevertheless, I was glad enough to find my- 
 self back in London, with a wider choice of friends 
 with whom to interchange ideas. And almost the 
 first man I met was Mervyn. His was the first face 
 I saw on entering the club, and upon catching sight 
 of me he rose from his arm chair and came across 
 the room to greet me. 
 
 "All right?" he enquired, as we shook hands. 
 
 "Fit enough," I answered, though with a hesita- 
 tion he was bound to notice. 
 
 "I see you still wear the ring," he remarked cas- 
 ually. 
 
 "Yes," I answered bitterly. "I wear it as fitly 
 emblematic of the person who gave it to me." 
 
 In my first rage at discovering the true character 
 of the woman who had befooled me I had intended 
 throwing it away, especially since it had figured on 
 the finger of the woman whose photographs I had de-
 
 136 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 stroyed, but I kept it eventually for the reason I had 
 now made Mervyn acquainted with. 
 
 "Then you have learned something since I told 
 you that history?" he said. 
 
 In a moment the determination took me to confide 
 the whole story of my adventure to Mervyn. "Look 
 here, old fellow," I said. "I have a lot to tell you. 
 Will you dine with me here to-night and come back 
 with me to my chambers afterwards?" 
 
 "With pleasure," he replied. Then some other 
 men we knew came up to us and conversation became 
 general. 
 
 Not until we were alone in my chambers with the 
 whiskey bottle between us did I say anything about 
 the matter, but then I disburdened my mind of my 
 story. While I talked he smoked, and by the time 
 I had finished the narration the tray at his elbow was 
 full of ash and cigarette ends. I had given the full- 
 est particulars with which I could charge my mem- 
 ory, and not by a single word did he interrupt. Even 
 when the conclusion was reached he still remained 
 silent, so that I asked him his views of the whole 
 matter. 
 
 "You returned home through Paris ?" he asked, to 
 my surprise, instead of replying to my question. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "but what has that to do with 
 it?" 
 
 "I wonder you were not kept there," he said.
 
 THE GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS 137 
 
 "Kept in Paris !" I said. "What was there to keep 
 me in Paris ?" 
 
 Mervyn rose from his chair and his face became 
 animated. "By Jove! Hardinge," he said, "you 
 obviously have a very imperfect realisation of the 
 peril you are in." 
 
 "Stuff!" I responded. "I am quite able to protect 
 myself against half a dozen Lady Melodes and 
 d'Hautvilles." 
 
 "I judge you did not see many French newspapers 
 after your departure from Paris for the Riviera ?" he 
 enquired. 
 
 "I don't suppose I bought a paper for a month 
 at least." 
 
 "Otherwise you would have known that the 'Af- 
 faire Lucille Clement' provided a seven days' sensa- 
 tion for the Parisian press. Even the English papers 
 devoted a good deal of space to it." 
 
 "The affaire Lucille Clement?" I asked. "I don't 
 quite follow you." 
 
 "Lucille Clement was the name of the girl who 
 accosted you in the Quatz' Arts," he said, "and the 
 mystery of the way she met her death has never yet 
 been elucidated. The story interested me," he con- 
 tinued, "though naturally it did not occur to me to 
 connect it in any way with you. I was in Paris my- 
 self at the time, and like many other lovers of the 
 gruesome, I visited the spots connected with the 
 murder of the girl out of sheer curiosity. From
 
 138 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 what I know about the case and a good deal of my 
 information is from official sources I am afraid, 
 Hardinge, that there is quite enough evidence 
 against you to introduce you to M. de Paris." 
 
 "But " I began. 
 
 "My dear fellow," he remarked, with a touch of 
 impatience in his tone, "why in heaven's name did 
 you not at once give information to the police of 
 your identification of the body ? Your silence makes 
 things appear terribly black against you. It is al- 
 most tantamount to a confession of guilt." 
 
 "I don't see why," I answered. 
 
 "Then you must be extraordinarily dense," he 
 said. "Let me tell you what has been discovered and 
 then judge for yourself. First of all, the identifica- 
 tion of the girl is complete. There is no need to 
 give the details of her early life. It is just the ordi- 
 nary life story of the grisette who finds the life of 
 bourgeois morality not quite exciting enough. She 
 seems to have been pretty well known at one time 
 at the Quatz' Arts. Then eighteen months previous 
 to her death she announced her intention of break- 
 ing away entirely from the life she was leading, tell- 
 ing a number of acquaintances that she was going 
 to take service as maid with an English lady. No 
 one believed her, but she disappeared from her old 
 haunts and nothing was seen of her until the night 
 when she accosted you as an old friend at the cafe. 
 She was recognised by a number of persons on that
 
 THE GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS 139 
 
 occasion, and though the description given by mem- 
 bers of the audience who recalled the appearance of 
 the man she greeted are characterised by a little Gal- 
 lic exuberance, I think there would be no difficulty 
 in identifying you with the person in question." 
 
 "I am quite prepared to admit that I was the 
 man," I said. 
 
 "Then let me carry the matter further," he con- 
 tinued. "The cabman who drove you to the Quai 
 d'Auteuil has been discovered and declares that he 
 will be able to identify his fare. Now, the top flat in 
 the house had been taken by Lucille Clement three 
 days before Christmas. She had told the concierge 
 that she was expecting to be joined by an English 
 friend, presumably yourself. No one was seen to 
 have visited her. She went out and came in alone 
 until the night when you entered with her. After 
 that night she was not seen again until her body was 
 taken out of the Seine. When the police, having 
 identified her, went to search tke apartments at the 
 Quai d'Auteuil they discovered a room in disorder, 
 with traces of a severe struggle and the floor bespat- 
 tered with blood. But the murderer, whoever he 
 was, had been so careful that he had not left behind 
 him a single clue to his identity." 
 
 "The evidence is certainly strong," I muttered. 
 
 "There is one other point," he added. 
 
 A market woman who had paid a visit to the 
 Morgue on the day the body was discovered remem-
 
 140 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 bers an Englishman, who was there at the same time 
 as herself, emerge looking very much agitated. She 
 paid particular attention to him and is confident 
 that she would be able to identify him." 
 
 "Good Lord !" I ejaculated. I began to feel as if 
 the rope were already noosed about my neck. 
 
 "Why on earth did you not go at once to the police 
 and tell them the whole story ?" he reiterated. "The 
 Parisian police are discreet." 
 
 "At all events, I hope you do not think that I am 
 a murderer," I said miserably. 
 
 "Don't talk rot," he commented cheerily. 
 
 "Thanks," I said, so heartily that he smiled. 
 
 "All the same, if you were charged with the crime 
 ninety-nine people out of a hundred would believe 
 you to be guilty," he continued, "and you must ex- 
 pect no mercy from d'Hautville." 
 
 "I do not quite see that," I said. "He had it in 
 his power to denounce me a couple of months ago if 
 he had wished. Why should he do so now?" 
 
 Mervyn thought for a minute before replying 
 slowly. "To my mind his reasons are pretty evi- 
 dent. I have no doubt that he is the murderer or 
 was in some way implicated. At the time he threat- 
 ened you he probably feared an investigation more 
 than you did. If such was the case the reasons for 
 his action are clear. His object w r as to scare you so 
 that any notion you may have entertained of com- 
 municating the death of the girl to the police should
 
 THE GATHERING OF THE CLOUDS 
 
 seem likely to menace your own safety. By this 
 time he has probably been able to destroy any evi- 
 dence against himself which may have been in ex- 
 istence." 
 
 "Or he may not," I replied. "What do you say 
 to my returning to Paris and telling my story no\v?" 
 
 "Too late," said Mervyn, "unless you are prepared 
 to substantiate your tale by the production of an es- 
 sential witness." 
 
 "My Lady Melode?" I asked. 
 
 "Lady Melode, nee Molly Temple," he replied. 
 "I need hardly suggest that, even if you were able 
 to find her, she would not be a very creditable wit- 
 ness." 
 
 "What am I to do then ?" I asked in exasperation. 
 
 "Go to bed and sleep over it," he replied. "You 
 may expect me to breakfast in the morning; perhaps 
 both our brains will be brighter then."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE BLUE CAR REAPPEARS 
 
 THE morning found me no nearer a decision as to 
 the best course to pursue than the evening had left 
 me. Nor had Mervyn any definite suggestion to 
 make when he arrived in fulfilment of his overnight 
 promise. He was, like myself, at a total loss to ac- 
 count for the motives which had animated the vari- 
 ous actors in the events which I have narrated, and 
 he agreed with me that unless we could obtain some 
 light on the events which had preceded my appear- 
 ance on the scene it was worse than useless to take 
 any steps whatever. I was more than half inclined 
 to bid a long adieu to Europe for a time, and only 
 that it would have been such a confession of coward- 
 ice I would at once have made preparations for an 
 expedition into the interior of New Guinea or some 
 other region where the dangers of existence would 
 be less terrifying because they would come upon one 
 unannounced. 
 
 I might even have risked the charge of cowardice 
 had not Mervyn taken a less serious view of my po- 
 sition than he had done the previous night. His
 
 THE BLUE CAR REAPPEARS 143 
 
 morning conclusion was that at present I was in 
 no particular danger from denunciation, either di- 
 rectly or anonymously, by d'Hautville, who alone 
 was able to give away my identity. "What you 
 have to fear," he declared, "is another meeting with 
 Lady Melode. For some reason or other, probably 
 because he may have ascertained that her ladyship 
 proposes to instal you in his place, he intends to 
 keep this charge to use as a lever to hoist you out 
 of the way if necessary." 
 
 "The necessity is not likely to arise then," I an- 
 swered. "I am not likely to meet Lady Melode 
 again, and if I were to meet her, I should be still less 
 likely to speak to her." 
 
 "The improbable is always likely to happen," de- 
 clared Mervyn sententiously. "There may be a spe- 
 cial likelihood in your case unknown to you at 
 present." 
 
 "If I were to meet her I should demand an expla- 
 nation," I said. 
 
 "That may be precisely what d'Hautville fears," 
 he replied. 
 
 "Then the easiest way of bringing matters to a 
 climax would be for me to search until I found her," 
 I cried with an eagerness which surprised even my- 
 self. 
 
 "Your folly is as great as mine, Hardinge," said 
 Mervyn, with almost a sneer. "Cannot you take
 
 144 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 warning by my experience, or did I tell you my 
 story in vain ?" 
 
 "I know there seems very little doubt that Molly 
 Temple and my Lady Melode are the same," I an- 
 swered humbly, "but while there is a doubt 
 
 Look here, Mervyn, I have been telling myself for 
 two months and more that they are the same and 
 that the woman who has borne two names is the 
 most abandoned of her sex, but whenever I remem- 
 ber the straightforward glance of her eyes, whenever 
 I recall the sound of her voice, the doubt springs up 
 again. After all the names are different." 
 
 "Names," he said. "What's in a name? I have 
 been making one or t\vo enquiries on my own ac- 
 count since I told you my story, and I have learned 
 something." 
 
 "Well?" I asked eagerly. 
 
 "I have learned that Temple was the family name 
 of the Castleford family; that Molly Temple, 
 through her father's ultimate accession to the title, 
 would to-day be Lady Molly Temple. That would 
 explain the assumption of the title." 
 
 "Who are the Castlef ords ?" I asked. 
 
 "It was an Irish earldom which became extinct 
 with Colonel Temple's death. As a matter of fact, 
 he only bore it for a few months." 
 
 "Still they might not be the same," I contended. 
 
 "Your description of Lady Melode exactly de- 
 scribes the w r oman who betrayed me ten years ago,
 
 THE BLUE CAR REAPPEARS 145 
 
 and what are ten years to a woman nowadays ? Be- 
 sides, have you not the evidence of your own eyes 
 in the house of the photographs to tell you what 
 manner of woman you befriended?" 
 
 I had no answer to make. I could only repeat the 
 question I had put on the preceding night, "What 
 ami to do?" 
 
 This time he had an answer ready. "Do noth- 
 ing," he replied decisively. 
 
 "I would rather do something," I said. 
 
 "You must live your ordinary life, go about as if 
 nothing had occurred to disturb it in any way. Mean- 
 while I will return to Paris and see what I can find 
 out in the light of what you have told me." 
 
 "You will go to Paris?" I said. "Why should 
 you trouble yourself with my affairs ?" 
 
 A grim smile appeared for a moment on his face. 
 "You flatter yourself, Hardinge," he answered. 
 "Remember I have an unsettled account with the 
 man d'Hautville, and for such accounts there is no 
 statute of limitations. It seems to me that the time 
 is approaching when I may be able to exact payment 
 in full." His tone altered. "Go about your every- 
 day affairs. Keep your name well before the motor- 
 ing public, so that everybody will know where you 
 are, and do not tell a single soul that you have con- 
 fided your secret to the nonentity before you." 
 
 I wrung his hand fervently. "You are a d d 
 
 good pal," I said.
 
 146 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Really, Hardinge," he drawled, "you are almost 
 offensively grateful for nothing. In reality it is I 
 who ought to be grateful to you for awakening in me 
 a new interest in life." 
 
 So the matter was arranged between us, and when 
 Mervyn left me it was to pack his bag with the in- 
 tention of catching the night train to Paris, while I 
 at once started planning how best I could fulfil his 
 instructions of getting my movements chronicled in 
 the newspapers. One easy method of achieving this 
 object at once presented itself. I knew that I had 
 only to enter my name for the new amateur's race to 
 get the fact recorded in the motoring gossip of the 
 press, so my first step took me to the Automobile 
 Club to obtain particulars of the contest. There I 
 learned that the conditions were practically the same 
 as those which used to govern the Gordon Bennett 
 race, with the exception that the driving was to be 
 done by bona fide owners of the cars and that no 
 manufacturer was to be allowed to compete. The 
 only difficulty in the way of my entering was the 
 necessity of the competing cars being built in the 
 country of competitors, for hitherto I had driven a 
 Mercedes, and I doubted whether I should be able to 
 make myself perfectly acquainted with the peculiari- 
 ties of another type of car even if I could get one 
 built in time for the eliminating trials. 
 
 There was no harm in trying at all events, and 
 selecting half a dozen of the most likely firms I at
 
 THE BLUE CAR REAPPEARS 147 
 
 once set out to see if I could bespeak a car which 
 would suit my purpose. Here fortune favoured me. 
 I had no further to go than New Burlington Street 
 to obtain exactly what I required. Messrs. Xapier 
 had on their hands a six-cylinder racing car which 
 had been built to compete in this very race. But 
 the man who had ordered it had slipped on a piece of 
 banana skin on the pavement, and his executors had 
 asked the manufacturers to do their best to dispose 
 of it. I made an appointment to go to the works 
 that same afternoon to view the chassis, which had 
 been completed, and returned to my chambers, where 
 I informed Coles of my new project. I need hardly 
 say that there was an especial emphasis on the "very'' 
 of his "Very good, sir." 
 
 I took him with me to the factory that afternoon, 
 and I was pleased enough with what I saw to clinch 
 the bargain, and the same night I entered my name 
 for the race. 
 
 There can be no point in my describing my do- 
 ings of the next few days. I like to know all about 
 any car I am going to drive, so I spent the best part 
 of a week at the Napier works making myself thor- 
 oughly acquainted with the mechanism. Then, in 
 order that I might not find myself fogged, I bought 
 a forty-horse touring car of the same make for my 
 everyday use. In this way the time passed pretty 
 rapidly and I found that I had no time to brood on 
 the past. Once or twice I received a brief note from
 
 148 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Mervyn saying that so far he had discovered noth- 
 ing of interest, and I ceased to worry about the 
 charge hanging over my head. 
 
 April came. My racing car was completed and I 
 had it out several times before the time arrived to 
 send it off under Coles' charge to the Isle of Man to 
 be tuned up for the eliminating trials. I was im- 
 mensely pleased with the car, and I felt more gay 
 at heart than I had done since the beginning of the 
 year. 
 
 Then the unexpected, as Mervyn had prophesied, 
 happened. I had taken back the car for some finish- 
 ing touches to the workshop and dropped into the 
 club afterwards, wishing tHat Mervyn would return 
 to town, so that we could run away out of town to- 
 gether for the week-end. He not being available, I 
 suggested trips to two or three of my acquaintances 
 whom I found in the smoking-room, but they were 
 all fixed up, and I was bemoaning my prospective sol- 
 itude when a man named Duxworth, who had been 
 in the same house as myself at Eton and had fol- 
 lowed me a year after to Oxford, joined trie circle. 
 He listened while I macle my complaint, and wlien I 
 had done he startled me by saying, "Look here, Har- 
 dinge, if you really are doing nothing this week-end 
 you might as well take me down to my mater's place 
 and spend the week-end with us." 
 
 "Oh, hang it all ! I wasn't fishing," I answered.
 
 THE BLUE CAR REAPPEARS 149 
 
 "I know that," he laughed, "but if you will come, 
 I can assure you a warm welcome." 
 
 "Unpremeditated guests do not always enter into 
 the scheme of things," I observed, though the invita- 
 tion appealed to me. 
 
 "You will only find a family party," he answered. 
 "It is too early in the year for a riverside house to be 
 full." 
 
 After that I made no bones about accepting the 
 invitation, and I picked him up in my big Napier 
 at four that same afternoon. I was alone, having 
 given Coles a holiday before the trials began. The 
 day was delightful, though as there had been no rain 
 for a fortnight the dust lay pretty heavy out of 
 town. Our route lay through Ealing and Uxbridge, 
 and what with the tram-lines and traffic I had no 
 chance of showing off the points of my recent pur- 
 chase for a long while. Still the time passed cheer- 
 fully. Though I had been acquainted with Mr. 
 Duxworth from boyhood, I knew very little about 
 him, and was surprised to find what a pleasant com- 
 panion he proved himself. I had always thought 
 him to be an idle sort of person, without any definite 
 interest in life, and now I discovered that differing 
 temperaments had merely diverted our several en- 
 ergies into entirely different channels. Apparently 
 he had been studying men and women while I had 
 been studying motor cars, and something he said 
 made me remark that he ought to write a novel.
 
 150 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Such is a mere novelist's fame compared with an 
 automobilist's," he answered. 
 
 "You don't mean to say that you do write nov- 
 els?'' I asked. 
 
 "You will find six of 'em in Mudie's list," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 "If it wasn't for the dust you would see me blush- 
 ing for my ignorance," I said. 
 
 "I doubt it, Hardinge," he answered. "You 
 haven't a particle of shame in your composition." 
 
 We had just cleared Uxbridge when the conversa- 
 tion reached this stage, and, seeing the road clear 
 ahead, I put my car on her top speed by way of 
 showing that I knew something of one subject at 
 least. We climbed the hill toward Gerard's Cross 
 in most excellent style, and had come to the spot 
 where the common skirts the road, when I saw a 
 cloud of dust ahead of me. 
 
 "Would you like to experience one of the chief 
 difficulties of racing?" I said to Duxworth. 
 
 He nodded. I had been wearing my goggles on 
 my cap hitherto, but now I pulled them down over 
 my eyes. I could tell by the size of the dust cloud 
 in front that the car was a big one. As soon as the 
 glasses were firmly fixed I proceeded to overhaul the 
 car in front. We were soon in the dust cloud, and 
 I sounded my horn furiously preparatory to passing. 
 But the owner of the car in front clearly had no 
 intention of being passed. At the sound of my horn
 
 THE BLUE CAR REAPPEARS 151 
 
 its speed was increased, and soon I was doing all 
 I knew in order to retain my position. 
 
 Luckily there was nothing in the road for the 
 next couple of miles, not even a policeman, then 
 the leading car slackened its pace and we shot past. 
 
 "How do you like it?" I asked Duxworth, when 
 I dropped to the regulation twenty miles an hour. 
 
 "Ripping," he said. "But you have overshot our 
 turning." 
 
 I put the car about, and then I observed that the 
 car we had passed had slackened speed in order to 
 turn off the main road, and by the time I had reached 
 the bye-road it had disappeared. In a few minutes 
 I sighted it once more, and again the sound of my 
 horn acted upon it like a new form of accelerator. I 
 had caught a glimpse of the car as we had drawn 
 closer to it, and I had noticed that it was enamelled 
 in blue. I wondered whether I was fated to pursue 
 blue cars for the rest of my life. A little later, as 
 we ran more slowly over a stretch of recently wa- 
 tered roadway near Marlow, I perceived that the 
 driver of the car in front was a woman, and alone. 
 I began to think that my senses were deserting me. 
 
 "Now, then, Hardinge, you are not going to let us 
 be beaten by a lady driver?" chaffed Duxworth. 
 "Follow that car and you will reach our place all 
 right." 
 
 I made no answer. But I followed, since I could 
 not pass it. I followed it through the little town and
 
 over the bridge, and even into the wide gates lead- 
 ing to a house hidden away in the woods which over- 
 hang the river, pulling up only when it came to a 
 standstill. The lady who had been driving dis- 
 mounted, and was exchanging greetings with two 
 other ladies on the lawn \vhen Duxworth also dis- 
 mounted, and, turning to me, remarked : "Come 
 along, Hardinge, you are not going to sit there all 
 day, are you ? I want to introduce you to my mothef 
 and my sister and my cousin."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MY LADY MELODE AGAIN 
 
 BEFORE I could properly collect my scattered 
 senses I found myself presented to a sweet-faced, 
 grey-haired lady as Duxworth's mother, and a vi- 
 vacious dark girl as his sister. Then turning to the 
 lady whose car we had been pursuing, he said : "I 
 thought my dear cousin would like to discuss her 
 favourite hobby with an expert on the subject. Har- 
 dinge, you haven't met Lady Moira Temple, better 
 known to her friends as Lady Melode, before, I 
 think?" 
 
 I muttered something, I do not know what, as my 
 hand went up to my cap, and I was thankful for the 
 first time in my life for a thick coat of dust on my 
 face. Fortunately, Lady Melode was better pre- 
 pared for the meeting than I was. 
 
 "Delighted to meet you, Mr. Hardinge," she said. 
 "I little thought who was pursuing me so vigorously. 
 You must confess I held my own." 
 
 I made a desperate effort to assume the casual 
 air of the newly introduced. "Have you often been 
 fined, Lady Melode?" I asked.
 
 154. THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 There had been a slight tremor in her voice when 
 she had first spoken, but that had disappeared when 
 she answered gaily, "Never yet." 
 
 "I am sure you must owe your escape to the innate 
 gallantry of the county constabulary, then," I re- 
 plied. "A mere man would never be able to drive a 
 car at such a pace and hope to get off scot free." 
 
 "Melode has hardly taken out her big car since 
 she had it over from Paris," explained Mrs. Dux- 
 worth. "I don't think she quite realises that there 
 is a speed limit enforced on our English roads." 
 
 "I am afraid she will soon be made aware of the 
 fact," I commented, "if she makes a habit of driving 
 at the pace she was going to-day." 
 
 Then Duxworth chimed in, and the conversation 
 became general, until Mrs. Duxworth told us that 
 we should just have time for a wash before tea. As 
 we entered the house Lady Melode was just before 
 me, and a softly whispered "Thank you" just 
 reached my ears as she passed indoors. 
 
 I will not try to describe the state of my mind 
 as I followed Duxworth upstairs to make myself 
 presentable. Chance sets strange puzzles for man's 
 solution, but never was a stranger one than was now 
 presented to me. What ought I to do under all the 
 circumstances of the case? It had been easy in her 
 absence to declare, as I had declared to Mervyn, that 
 even if I should meet her again I should pass her as 
 a stranger, but I had never contemplated an intro-
 
 MY LADY MELODE AGAIN 155 
 
 duction to her as a member of a household to which 
 I had been invited as a guest, a household whose 
 members could know nothing of the facts which had 
 become known to me, or why that softly spoken 
 word of thanks? Was it my duty to inform my 
 friend? If it had been, I know I should have failed 
 in that duty, for the moment her eyes had met mine, 
 tiie moment .1 had heard her voice, I knew that there 
 was no other woman in the world for me. Perhaps, 
 after all, the evidence against her could be explained 
 away. I knew from my own experience how black 
 a case could be made against a purely innocent per- 
 son. 
 
 I was so occupied with my thoughts that I paid 
 no attention to what my host was saying until I 
 caught Lady Melode's name. 
 
 "You two are sure to get on. In fact though 
 don't you give me away it was Melode herself who 
 suggested that I should bring you down. She is 
 tremendously keen on motoring, and probably thinks 
 you will be able to give her some tips. She sug- 
 gested it when I happened to mention your name, 
 and I was glad to fall in with her wishes. Good- 
 looking girl, isn't she?" 
 
 I agreed heartily. 
 
 "I admire her myself immensely," he rambled on, 
 "but, you know, she is so impatient with the mere 
 observer. She loves action so long as she can be 
 one of the actors. She insists upon being in the
 
 thick of everything which is going forward, and if 
 you suggest that there is anything for which she is 
 unfitted, well, she turns up her pretty nose and sniffs. 
 Oh, yes, she can sniff, old fellow. I've heard her. 
 She sniffs at me and my novels, and tells me that it 
 is better to mend the roads than to spin a web of 
 words for the enmeshment of subscribers to the 
 Times book club. I am not sure whether it is train- 
 ing or original sin which is responsible for such an 
 imfeminine attitude to life. Probably both. She was 
 a daughter of a younger son of a younger son of 
 an Earl of Castleford, who never expected to inherit 
 the title. Colonel Temple was his name " 
 
 "Colonel Temple ?" I asked, conscious that another 
 nail had been hammered into the coffin which held 
 my hopes. 
 
 "Did you ever meet him?" enquired Duxworth. 
 "I should have thought that he was before your 
 time." 
 
 "No," I replied. "I heard a friend of mine, who 
 had been in India, mention his name the other day." 
 
 "The Colonel married my mother's sister," he 
 continued, "and the odds were about a thousand to 
 one against his ever succeeding to the title, but fate 
 plays strange pranks. A yachting accident, a minor 
 war, and some faulty drains in a Midland country 
 house, between them cleared the way to an Irish 
 peerage and a considerable income. He didn't live 
 long afterward to enjoy either. He left everything
 
 MY LADY MELODE AGAIN 157 
 
 to Melode except, of course, the title; he couldn't 
 do that, or he would have done so, for he had no one 
 else to leave anything to, as my aunt had died soon 
 after Moira was born. She was always allowed to 
 do exactly as she liked, with the consequence that 
 she has an amount of self-reliance remarkable even 
 in this advanced age. You had better look out for 
 yourself, therefore, Hardinge, for if she should take 
 a fancy to you she is quite capable of proposing to 
 you out of hand." 
 
 "It might be difficult to refuse," I replied, ambigu- 
 ously. 
 
 Duxworth laughed. "If Melode sets her mind on 
 anything she generally gets it," he said, "though 
 perhaps I ought not to generalise, for I cannot say 
 that I know a great deal of her." 
 
 "I suppose, as cousins, you have known her from 
 babyhood?" I hazarded, anxious for a break in the 
 chain of identification which coupled her with the 
 Molly Temple w r ho had figured in Mervyn's life. 
 
 "Never saw her until a year ago," he answered. 
 "Temple did not hit it off with my governor, and 
 though we knew of Melode's existence, that was 
 about all. What I know of her early life is from 
 her own lips. From her I have gathered that Colonel 
 Temple was always on the run to some out-of-the- 
 way part of the earth or other, while Melode was 
 left to her own devices. Why, she tells me that she 
 was an art student in Paris for three or four years,
 
 158 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 and when her father died nobody but the solicitor 
 who acted for him knew her address." 
 
 My hopes grew less and less as he talked on. 
 Nevertheless, I ventured another question. "How 
 did you find her out?" I asked. 
 
 "She did the finding," he replied. "I remember 
 the day when she introduced herself, perfectly. I was 
 reading a bit of the novel I was writing at the time, 
 to my mother it is a habit of mine, Hardinge 
 when the door opened, and without a word of warn- 
 ing the man announced Lady Melode Temple. We 
 hadn't time even to look surprised. "I hope you 
 won't refuse a rich relation a cup of tea, auntie," 
 she said in that sweet voice of hers Lord ! what 
 perfect music that girl's voice makes ! and from 
 that moment she has simply reigned in this house 
 when she deigns to visit us." 
 
 "I suppose you read your novels to her now?" I 
 asked, with my face half buried in the towel. 
 
 "Not I," he answered. "I tried it once." 
 
 "Why not twice?" I queried, not quite innocently. 
 
 He laughed before replying, shortly : "She knows 
 too much." Then after a pause he continued : "It 
 was far too disheartening. She would put any nov- 
 elist out of conceit with his poor little puppets in 
 five minutes. But there, she has taught me some- 
 thing, so I ought to be grateful, though I do prefer 
 my mother as an audience. Ready? Come down
 
 MY LADY MELODE AGAIN 159 
 
 to tea, and I will guarantee you will understand 
 what I mean before Monday morning." 
 
 I followed him downstairs to the drawing-room. 
 There were three or four other guests staying in the 
 house, and one or two callers present ; but though I 
 chattered to everybody, I had no eyes for anyone 
 but Lady Melode. I was longing for the opportunity 
 to speak to her alone. But not a chance presented 
 itself then, or throughout the evening. 
 
 When I retired to my bedroom that night I was 
 in a condition bordering on stupefaction. Never by 
 look or word had she suggested that I shared with 
 her a secret that she wished to be kept from the 
 world. Yet I knew that there was a secret she feared 
 might be discovered. Common sense could place only 
 one interpretation upon her attitude, but from that 
 interpretation my whole nature revolted. I could 
 not believe, after being in her company the whole 
 evening, that she was other than the pure woman 
 she appeared to be. I had seen her visit the house 
 of the photographs. I knew that her maid had not 
 been a reputable character. I had known that she 
 had made an appointment with d'Hautville, and had 
 been on terms of familiarity with him. Save for an 
 alteration of the Christian name, her name was iden- 
 tical with that of the girl who had wrecked Mervyn's 
 life. I had learned that day that she had been liv- 
 ing, or had given out that she had been living 1 , in 
 Paris for some years. She had given me Mervyn's
 
 betrothal ring. What could I think ? I recalled the 
 Miladis and Becky Sharps of fiction, and I tola my- 
 self that innocence was a mask which none but the 
 finished actress could wear. Even then, the memory 
 of the fearless glance with which she had met mine 
 when we were alone on the Petrel, as it had met 
 mine more than once on this evening, forbade me to 
 think that she could be the abandoned creature the 
 evidence made her out to be. 
 
 There was an additional horror which may be 
 more easily imagined than described. Every time 
 my glance fell upon her I saw her posing for one 
 or other of the studies that decorated the studio wall 
 of the house of the photographs. When I was alone 
 that night I struck at the walls of my room until my 
 knuckles were bruised and torn, as I fought blindly 
 to put that ugly memory to flight. To think that 
 the woman I loved impossible ! impossible ! ! im- 
 possible ! ! ! I put the thought from me at last. I 
 think I should have gone mad if I had not succeeded 
 in doing so. 
 
 Before I slept I made a resolution that the morrow 
 should not pass without my coming to an explana- 
 tion with Lady Melode. The morning came, but 
 not the opportunity for the tete-a-tete I desired. A 
 jaunt to Oxford on our cars was proposed, and about 
 eleven-thirty they were brought round. I drove one 
 car and Lady Melode the other. The morning was 
 a pleasant one, and the outward run, via Aston Row-
 
 MY LADY MELODE AGAIN 161 
 
 ant, passed without incident. We had a merry lunch 
 at the Mitre, and, after a stroll round, started on our 
 return journey by way of Wallingford and Henley. 
 We had met very few automobilists, and passed none 
 on the unfrequented stretch of road by which we had 
 reached Oxford, but on the more used highway by 
 which we returned there were many more motorists 
 awheel. We had overtaken several before we reached 
 the cross-roads outside Wallingford, amongst others 
 a powerful white car, the owner of which seemed to 
 resent having been passed, for he hung on behind 
 for four or five miles, and when we commenced the 
 ascent to Nettlebed he let his car go and slipped past 
 me on his highest speed. I should have liked to have 
 tried the speed of my Napier against his, and I in- 
 creased my pace, hoping that Lady Melode, who 
 was leading me about a quarter of a mile ahead, 
 would take up the challenge. But she allowed the 
 stranger to slip by, and I fell back to keep clear of 
 the dust. 
 
 The ascent to Nettlebed is fairly stiff, but nothing 
 to present any real difficulty, and I was surprised 
 when T reached the summit to find the Mercedes 
 pulled up at the side of the road and the engine not 
 running. 
 
 "What's the matter?" I asked as I ran alongside. 
 
 "Something gone wrong with the cooling appara- 
 tus," was the reply. 
 
 I jumped down from my seat and approached trie
 
 162 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 car. A glance at the indicator showed that the cool- 
 ing apparatus was nearly empty. "What is it? A 
 leaky pipe ?" I asked. Then, as I noticed a big pud- 
 dle of steaming moisture on the road : "It looks as 
 if the leak is a big one." 
 
 "I don't think there was any leak," replied Lady 
 Melode quickly, and with an air of embarrassment. 
 "I think there must have been an air block in the 
 circulation. That puddle is the water I have run 
 off through the drain cock." 
 
 "Then all we have to do is to get enough water 
 to refill," I said. 
 
 "That is all," she answered promptly. "That is 
 why I stopped here." She pointed as she spoke to 
 a little inn standing back about twenty yards from 
 the road. 
 
 "I will see what can be done," I said, and I turned 
 towards the inn. Then the chance I had been await- 
 ing presented itself, for Lady Melode joined me, but 
 I knew not how to take advantage of it, especially 
 as my companion said in the most matter-of-fact 
 way : "It was very annoying to be compelled to stop 
 just as that white car had passed." 
 
 "I wondered why you allowed yourself to be 
 passed so easily," I remarked. I looked up the road, 
 and I saw the car returning. "Hullo! Here he is 
 again." 
 
 "Perhaps the owner is as anxious for a race as 
 you are," she said, just as we reached the inn door.
 
 MY LADY MELODE AGAIN 163 
 
 I paid no more attention to the stranger, for at the 
 moment I entered the inn, leaving Lady Melode on 
 the porch. The woman whom I found in charge 
 of the bar was none too amiable when she ascer- 
 tained that my principal requirement was a can of 
 water, and it was not until I had made her under- 
 stand that I was quite ready to pay the price of beer 
 for it that she showed any alacrity to provide for 
 my requirements. Two minutes elapsed before she 
 had provided me with the water and I was able to 
 rejoin Lady Melode. As I came out of the door 
 I saw that one of the two occupants of the white 
 car was just entering. I paid no attention to the 
 fact, for he was obviously just a professional motor- 
 man, and Lady Melode came forward and joined 
 me, returning with me to the car. The water tank 
 was soon filled and I took the can back alone, this 
 time Lady Melode making no attempt to join me. 
 much to my disgust, for by this time I had thought 
 of an introductory question to the explanation I 
 sought. A little later we were off again, leaving the 
 white car behind us. But not for long. Soon I 
 heard it humming along behind, but this time it was 
 clear that Lady Melode had no intention of being 
 beaten. The procession of three cars swept on in 
 the same order through Henley, nor changed until 
 we came to Marlow, where we turned to the right 
 across the bridge, and the stranger, parting com- 
 pany, kept straight on through the town.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE TRYST BY THE RIVER 
 
 SOMEHOW, I could not rid myself of the presenti- 
 ment that the white car which had followed us that 
 afternoon had done so with some ulterior object 
 though I had not the slightest reason for the sur- 
 mise. The impression was deepened by Lady Mel- 
 ode's attitude during the evening. She was gay, but 
 there was something hectic in her gaiety, so that it 
 seemed to me forced, and not the spontaneous cheer- 
 fulness of an untroubled heart. Again I watched 
 for an opportunity for a private conversation, but 
 she seemed to be aware of my desire and to avoid 
 giving me the chance I sought. 
 
 After dinner we had some music. Lady Melode 
 sang to her cousin's accompaniment. The others 
 made up a table at bridge. Then I thought that I 
 should get my chance, but Lady Melode retired. I 
 slipped away to the smoking-room for a consola- 
 tory cigar. The room was in darkness save for the 
 firelight and the moonbeams which streamed in 
 through the unshuttered windows, and being in a 
 moonlight mood I forbore to ring for lights. 
 
 164
 
 THE TRYST BY THE RIVER 165 
 
 How long I brooded in the dim light I do not 
 know. My cigar had gone out, and I was gazing 
 out of the window, when I saw a figure that I recog- 
 nised flit past. Here then was my opportunity for 
 a quiet tete-a-tete. The thought flashed through my 
 mind that Lady Melode had guessed that I might 
 be watching for her reappearance, and desired to 
 meet me quite alone. It was a foolish supposition. 
 but I did not wait to analyse it. I sprang to my feet, 
 and, unfastening the catch of the window, stepped 
 on to the lawn. 
 
 On the far side Lady Melode was just disappear- 
 ing in the shadow of the trees, and I saw that she 
 had taken a path leading to the river. My first idea 
 gave place to the thought that, finding her troubles 
 more than she could bear, she had succumbed to the 
 temptation to end them. I rushed across the lawn, 
 but before I reached the trees that thought, too, had 
 passed from me. Lady Melode was no neurotic girl. 
 to be moved by hysteria to self-slaughter. Still, I 
 followed the path she had taken, though but slowly, 
 for now I began to doubt whether I should be wel- 
 comed. If she had wanted an explanation she could 
 easily have made opportunity, yet I went on. 
 
 The path wound down the hillside until it emerged 
 upon a lawn which provided a river frontage for 
 the house hidden away in the trees above. Under 
 ordinary circumstances, I could have descended in 
 three minutes, but owing to my pauses I took double
 
 166 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 the time. I caught a glimpse of the river between 
 the trees, and in another ten paces I reached the end 
 of the path. 
 
 Lady Melode was not alone! 
 
 Not for a moment had I imagined that her object 
 in seeking this secluded spot had been to keep an 
 assignation. Yet palpably such had been the reason 
 for her early retirement and clandestine exit from 
 the house, for she was pacing the narrow strip of 
 lawn in earnest conversation with a man whose 
 means of reaching the spot were revealed by a boat 
 which lay alongside the landing stage. 
 
 I had no desire to spy upon Lady Melode, and I 
 was about to retire by the path I had come, when 
 the two of them, reaching the end of the lawn, 
 turned, and I saw the face of her companion. I had 
 no thought of retiring then, for I recognised her 
 companion as d'Hautville. Four times I had met 
 this man, and each time a fresh coil had been added 
 to the chain of mystery by which I was surrounded. 
 To my mind the time had come when it behooved 
 me to act on my own account to obtain some infor- 
 mation, and here at last was an opportunity too good 
 to be missed. The spot was absolutely secluded, for 
 no one was likely to be upon the river or the river 
 bank at this time of the year, and, conscious of my 
 own strength, I determined, if necessary, to force 
 an explanation from d'Hautville's lips. There was 
 an additional reason for remaining. Whatever was
 
 THE TRYST BY THE RIVER 167 
 
 the relationship existing between Lady Melode and 
 her companion, it was patent to me that they were 
 not on amicable terms. I noted the scornful expres- 
 sion on Lady Melode's face, the repellant curve of 
 her figure, as the two of them came near to where 
 I stood in the shadow of the trees. They did not 
 come the full length of the lawn, but stopped by 
 the landing stage. Their voices were low at first, 
 and only broken words reached my ears, but it was 
 evident that d'Hautville was urging Lady Melode 
 to some course which she was determinedly refus- 
 ing. 
 
 Then he raised his voice. "You will do as I bid 
 you, my Melode. You will come when I send for 
 you, if you do not make plans for your friends to 
 receive me." 
 
 She turned away with a haughty little gesture of 
 contempt, and was a couple of paces away from him 
 before he seemed to realise that the interview was 
 at an end. Then a spasm of rage disturbed the 
 smooth serenity of his features, and, springing after 
 her, he laid his hand on her arm. 
 
 "Voila!" he cried. 
 
 Lady Melode made an effort to throw off his grip. 
 I stepped out of the shadow and strode towards the 
 pair. Each of them must have observed my pres- 
 ence at the same moment, for Lady Melode uttered 
 my name, and d'Hautville's hand dropped from her 
 arm to his pocket.
 
 168 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Mr. Hardinge?" repeated Lady Melode, as I 
 stopped a pace from her side. 
 
 "At your service," I answered, as quietly as I 
 knew how, for my head was hot and my fingers 
 itching to close with the man who faced me. 
 
 "Ah ! The knight errant, always the knight er- 
 rant," said the mocking voice of d'Hautville. "Come, 
 my dear Melode, surely it is the right time for you 
 to tell him that he mistakes his object in life, and 
 that for the future you have no need for his ser- 
 vices." 
 
 I jammed down both brakes on my temper, and 
 turned to her for the word which should set me at 
 liberty to act. To my surprise, instead of resenting 
 the familiar mode of address, something very like 
 fear was written on her face as she glanced first at 
 me and then at the Count. 
 
 "Tell him, Melode," repeated the Count, "that we 
 do not need his well-intentioned interference in our 
 affairs any longer." He took a case from his pocket 
 and nonchalantly busied himself in lighting a ciga- 
 rette. 
 
 Then she spoke. "Mr. Hardinge," she com- 
 menced, and paused. "Mr. Hardinge, I do not 
 know what brought you here at the moment when 
 this this gentleman" she forced the word out 
 "and I were engaged in a purely private conversa- 
 tion, but I must ask you to leave us. What M. le 
 Comte says is perfectly true. I do not need your
 
 THE TRYST BY THE RIVER 169 
 
 assistance any longer. You did me a service, as 
 I thought, in the past, and for that I am grateful, 
 hut " 
 
 I suppose I ought to have left her at this request. 
 but nothing was further from my intention. I just 
 put my hands deeply into my pockets lest they should 
 slip unawares at the throat of the man grinning at 
 my discomfiture, and then I replied : "I am quite 
 ready to depart as soon as I have received an answer 
 to each one of a few questions I propose to ask this 
 gentleman. I consider that I am fortunate in hav- 
 ing met him at a spot so favourably situated for a 
 confidential chat." Then, having finished this speech, 
 I passed by them and, stepping on to the landing 
 stage, hauled in the boat and possessed myself of 
 the sculls. 
 
 While so engaged I heard d'Hautville's voice mut- 
 tering in a rapid undertone, and the moment I had 
 finished, Lady Melode came to me and laid her 
 hand on my arm. "Listen to me, Mr. Hardinge," 
 she said, beseechingly, "I may be foolish, but I im- 
 agine that your intention to remain here is prompted 
 by the thought that I may be in some danger. Let 
 me assure you that I am in none." 
 
 It was difficult to resist the pleading in her voice, 
 the touch of her fingers, as she strove to draw me 
 from the landing stage; but as the moonlight fell 
 upon her upturned face I saw fear written in her 
 eyes, and for her own sake I resisted her request.
 
 170 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Lady Melode," I answered, "I have been play-* 
 ing some part, though what that part is I do not 
 know, in affairs which closely concern yourself. I 
 admit that it was entirely of my own volition that 
 I have become involved, but at the same time I am 
 involved in them, and it is my right to have an ex- 
 planation. I cannot demand that explanation from 
 you. Chance has brought M. d'Hautville here to 
 give it me." 
 
 "And if I refuse to answer your questions," inter- 
 rupted d'Hautville. 
 
 "I shall be forced to the unpleasant necessity of 
 wringing M. le Comte's neck," I replied, my anger 
 for a moment over-riding my sense of what was due 
 to Lady Melode's presence. 
 
 "You see what sort of knight you have enlisted 
 in your service," remarked d'Hautville, banteringly, 
 though I remarked that his hand dropped again to 
 his pocket, and I guessed that a pistol lay there han- 
 dily. I was near enough to him to grip him before 
 he could draw it on me, so I did not worry myself 
 with the thought that he might fire from his pocket 
 
 "Please," said Lady Melode, but I made no move- 
 ment. 
 
 "Bah!" ejaculated d'Hautville. "I cannot stay, 
 here all the night. Let it be as Mr. Hardinge wishes. 
 Do you leave us together, my sweet Melode. Since 
 m'sieu is so insistent, he shall have as many explana-
 
 THE TRYST BY THE RIVER 171 
 
 tions as he desires, though I doubt that he wishes an 
 answer to more than one question." 
 
 "No!" she cried. "I will not leave you together !'' 
 
 I looked at her, and my heart misgave me, for it 
 seemed to me that her fear was lest I should hear 
 something concerning herself. 
 
 "M'sieu's whole deportment has made me aware 
 of the chief question he desires to ask," said d'Haut- 
 ville. "M'sieu is jealous of the exceedingly friendly 
 relations which he has observed to exist between 
 myself and the beautiful Lady Melode. They so 
 much resemble the ordinary relationships which ob- 
 tain between the heads of households in his own 
 favoured country, that he would fain be satisfied 
 whether Lady Melode Temple and M. le Comte 
 d'Hautville are not in reality Le Comte and La Com- 
 tesse. Is it not so, m'sieu?" 
 
 I said nothing, and after a moment's pause he 
 continued: "I am happy to set m'sieu's mind at 
 ease. I have not the slightest legal right to control 
 my dear Melode's actions in any way whatsoever." 
 
 "That is fortunate for her," I muttered, though 
 my heart grew sick at the interpretation which could 
 be placed on his statement, when coupled with the 
 familiarity of his references to Lady Melode. 
 
 "Who can tell," he commented, sardonically, "how 
 long it shall be so, for, as you have observed, our 
 friendship is so great that we may even go the length 
 of quarrelling."
 
 172 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Then a note of menace crept into his tone. "I 
 have already advised m'sieu that I have his welfare 
 at heart. May I repeat that if he values his safety 
 he will no longer concern himself with myself or 
 my Lady Melode ? Even if he should escape me, he 
 need not hope to escape justice. A word is suffi- 
 cient to ensure m'sieu's identification with that of the 
 murderer of Lucille." 
 
 I had expected the renewal of this threat, and I 
 was prepared for it. "I shall speak that word when 
 I see the occasion for it," I remarked, coolly. "You 
 best know what the result is likely to be." 
 
 My shot went home, for I saw his lips whiten. 
 But his self-control did not desert him. "You are 
 droll, m'sieu," he remarked. 
 
 "You see there are many matters to be explained," 
 I said. 
 
 "Then assuredly you shall have such explanation 
 as is suited to your intelligence," he drawled. In- 
 stinct warned me of his intention, and I saw his hand 
 move in his pocket. I leaped past him as he pulled 
 the trigger, and the bullet ricocheted from the sur- 
 face of the water. I had him by the elbows before 
 he could turn, and I propelled him forward on to 
 the landing stage and over the edge, catching him 
 by the heels as he went in. I dipped him thrice, and 
 then, dragging him out, I bundled him into the boat, 
 tossed the sculls after him, and set him adrift. I
 
 THE TRYST BY THE RIVER 173 
 
 felt thoroughly satisfied with myself as I returned 
 to the bank. 
 
 "You are not hurt?" asked Lady Melode. She 
 was still standing at the same spot where she had 
 stood when the brief struggle had commenced. 
 
 "Not in the slightest degree," I said. "Firing 
 from the pocket requires a lot of practice." 
 
 "Thank God !" she said, almost hysterically. 
 
 "Come!" I said. "Let us be going home." 
 
 Without another word she laid her hand on my 
 arm, and I noticed that she was trembling like the 
 leaves of the aspen whose branches we passed be- 
 neath at that moment.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 DISILLUSIONED 
 
 LADY MELODE'S agitation was so great that I 
 thought it inadvisable that we should return at once 
 to the house, in case we might encounter some one 
 by the way. I suggested that we should pace up and 
 down the river lawn until she regained her self-con-, 
 trol. Forty paces was the length of the sward from 
 the boat house on the one side to the big willow tree 
 on the other, for I counted twice. I had counted up 
 to thirty the third time when my companion broke 
 the silence. 
 
 "What did d'Hautville mean when he said that 
 a word would be sufficient to ensure your identifica- 
 tion with the murderer of Lucille ?" 
 
 I stopped in my walk abruptly, and looked into 
 my companion's face. Her brow was wrinkled, and 
 she seemed to be striving to find an explanation for 
 something which puzzled her. 
 
 "Then you have not heard that Lucille was found 
 dead in the Seine ?" I asked. 
 
 "Lucille ? My maid ?" she said, incredulously. 
 
 "Lucille Clement, the girl who brought me to the 
 house on the Quai d'Auteuil," I replied. 
 
 174
 
 DISILLUSIONED 175 
 
 "When I do not understand, why please tell 
 me, for I have heard nothing," she said. 
 
 I told her all I knew of the matter, from my rec- 
 ognition of the body in the Morgue, to the threats 
 which d'Hautville had uttered at our interview on 
 Notre Dame. When I spoke of the latter she gave 
 a little cry and her grasp tightened on my arm. 
 
 "I don't care that for his threats," I said, with a 
 snap of my fingers. "I have no doubt that he has 
 good reasons for saying nothing." 
 
 "You do not know him !" she cried. 
 
 "I know sufficient of him to be satisfied that he 
 has more to fear than myself, if any enquiry should 
 cause his name to be mentioned in connection with 
 that poor girl's death," I answered. 
 
 "Of course, I cannot tell," she said, musingly, "but 
 I hope you are not lulling yourself into a false sense 
 of security. I know what that man is capable of 
 doing, and after to-night he will not spare you if he 
 has it in his power to do you any harm. Why why 
 did you let him escape?" 
 
 Her voice was tense, and I looked at her in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "No no!" she continued. "I don't know what 
 you will think of me, Mr. Hardinge. Only I could 
 not help remembering that he had attempted to take 
 your life, and you could not have been blamed if 
 you had not pulled him out of the river. You do 
 not know, perhaps, that he looks on you as one who
 
 176 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 has come between himself and an object he has long 
 had in view, for which he has been plotting carefully 
 during the past two years." 
 
 "And that object ?" I asked. 
 
 "He thought for a long time that I should marry 
 him," she replied. 
 
 This amazing statement, amazing in view of my 
 suspicions as to the relationship which had existed in 
 the past between the two, left me speechless. 
 
 "He will not believe," she continued, "that I was 
 not well acquainted with you long before that occa- 
 sion when I first met you at Versailles. He has de- 
 clared that he will remove you from his path." 
 
 "And was it in fear for me that you were so anx- 
 ious that I should leave you?" said I, as a new light 
 broke in upon my brain. 
 
 "I knew he was armed," she answered softly, "and 
 yes, I did fear that he would take you at a disad- 
 vantage, and I I could not bear the thought that 
 all your kindness to me should be so repaid." 
 
 "Lady Melode," I said earnestly, for whatever she 
 had been in the past, I could see quite clearly that 
 her interest in my welfare was not assumed, and I 
 thought that the time had come at last when I could 
 fairly ask for enlightenment on all the subjects which 
 had been troubling me, "Lady Melode, why will 
 you not give me your full confidence ? You may be 
 assured that I will not abuse it." 
 
 "Not now," she said. "You have given me so
 
 DISILLUSIONED 177 
 
 many things to think about. To-morrow in the 
 morning." 
 
 "You will promise to confide in me in the morn- 
 ing?" I asked. 
 
 She looked me frankly in the face. "I think in the 
 morning," she said, "I may tell you part at least of 
 a most unhappy story, which I had declared should 
 be known to no one but those who are already ac- 
 quainted with it. It was in order that I might tell 
 you that story that I suggested to my cousin that he 
 should bring you down here. When you came I hes- 
 itated until to-fiight I thought it might not be nec- 
 essary." 
 
 "And now you find that it is necessary?" I said. 
 
 "I am not sure now that I dare," she answered. 
 "That is what I am trying to decide, and that is why 
 I must ask you to wait until the morning. I am not 
 thinking of myself. I have your safety in my hands." 
 
 I knew not what to understand by the contradic- 
 tory speeches which fell from her lips. First she 
 would, and then she would not. But anyhow, my 
 peace of mind was more to me than my personal 
 safety, and I told her so. 
 
 "Don't you think that I am capable of looking af- 
 ter myself?" I urged. 
 
 "In any straightforward business, yes," she an- 
 swered. "D'Hautville has already experienced the 
 results of a personal encounter. He will not attempt 
 to meet you face to face again. When he strikes, it
 
 178 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 will be by another hand, and what you have told me 
 of poor Lucille makes the method he intends to adopt 
 plain. He must have thought that I was aware of 
 all the facts, and so should understand his hints 
 when he when to-night he offered me your life as 
 the price of my consent to marry him." 
 
 "You refused !" I cried. "I am glad you refused. 
 I would not accept my life, even if it were indeed 
 at his mercy, on such condition." 
 
 "I refused," she said quietly, "not knowing what 
 power for evil was in his hand." 
 
 "But there is none," I urged. 
 
 "Let us go indoors," she said, interrupting me. 
 "I must have time to think things out." 
 
 Without a word I turned, and we mounted the 
 path leading to the house. Her hand just rested 
 lightly on my arm as she kept pace with me. And 
 so, just as we reached the end of the wood, suddenly 
 a nightingale, from a bough above our heads, burst 
 into full-throated song. About us streamed the pure 
 moonlight, weaving its intricate traceries of silver 
 on the sprouting bracken beneath the trees, and 
 flooding the open lawn which lay between us and 
 the house. We stood and listened while the rich 
 voice of the songster rose in full cadence and died 
 away in plaintive minor tones. To me it was as the 
 voice of the spirit of the night. I felt my compan- 
 ion's hand grasp my arm convulsively, and looking
 
 DISILLUSIONED 179 
 
 down upon her face, 1 saw that it was drawn the 
 face of one hopeless. 
 
 "Lady Melode," I said softly, "I will ask you to 
 tell me nothing of the unhappy story you mentioned, 
 but there is something I would ask of you." 
 
 She had veiled her face with her hands, and I 
 continued : "I would ask you to give me the right 
 to protect you from this time and hericeforth." 
 
 She still made no reply, and I placed my hands 
 on her shoulders and drew her towards me. "God 
 knows how dearly I should value my trust," I said. 
 
 She did not withdraw from my hold, but her 
 hands dropped to her side, and she looked me full 
 in the face. "Ask me nothing," she answered. "It 
 will be better for you." Her bosom rose and fell 
 stormily, though her eyes were tearless. The night- 
 ingale once again burst into full song. 
 
 "Melode! Lady Melode," I said, "your rival 
 there knows the truth of life and is singing his story 
 out of the fulness of his heart. Will you not learn 
 of him?" 
 
 "Not for me, not for me !" she cried, and, thrust- 
 ing away my hands, she flitted away from me across 
 the lawn and was lost in the house. 
 
 I did not follow. I stood there moonstruck for 
 the best part of an hour, while the bird poured out 
 his flood of song; stood there until I saw through 
 the uncurtained windows the bridge players throw 
 down their cards. Then I slipped quietly into the
 
 house and found my way to my room. I did not 
 regret the emotion to which I had been betrayed. I 
 did not regret the offer I had made. I knew as 
 well as mortal man can ever know, that I was be- 
 loved by the woman who had won my heart, and in 
 that period of exaltation I told myself that whatever 
 had happened in the past could make no difference. 
 
 In the morning the period of exaltation had passed 
 and I shuddered at the thoughts of the damning na- 
 ture of the evidence against the character of the 
 woman I loved, though I hugged the hope that even 
 yet some explanation would be forthcoming. I had 
 been awake so long on the previous night that I had 
 overslept my usual hour, and consequently, when I 
 arrived downstairs about ten o'clock, I found the 
 breakfast room deserted. However, I had not been 
 there above a minute or two when Lady Melode 
 entered. She seemed to be suffering from nerves, al- 
 though at the same time righting against anything 
 of the sort as she greeted me, and made some casual 
 reference to the beauty of the morning. "The oth- 
 ers have already gone out," she said, as she poured 
 out my coffee. "I said that I would wait and bring 
 you along to the river." 
 
 "I think we will manage to give them a good 
 start," I remarked, my spirits rising. 
 
 She replied only with a rather wan smile, and I 
 watched her, thinking how happy I should be if this 
 breakfast a deux was to be the first of a long series.
 
 DISILLUSIONED 181 
 
 Looking up, she caught my glance fixed upon her, 
 and the colour came to her cheek as she remarked 
 hastily: "There is a letter for you this morning, 
 Mr. Hardinge." 
 
 "A letter!" I exclaimed. "I left no address for 
 letters to be forwarded." 
 
 "Still, a letter arrived for you this morning," and 
 rising, she crossed the room, and taking a large en- 
 velope from the sideboard, she brought it to me. The 
 handwriting was unknown to me, and I laid it down 
 with the remark that it might very well wait. 
 
 "I think it will be best for you to see the con- 
 tents," she said, and her voice was rather strained. 
 "I know the handwriting." 
 
 I tore open the envelope, and there, between two 
 pieces of cardboard, was a photograph. One glance 
 assured me that I had seen it before, or rather that 
 I had seen an enlargement from the same negative, 
 for it was a replica of the study I had seen last on 
 the easel in the studio of the house near Fontaine- 
 bleau. 
 
 "Whose was the handwriting?" I asked, aimlessly, 
 for I knew only too well. 
 
 "D'Hautville's," replied Lady Melode shortly. 
 
 Then I observed a sheet of notepaper still within 
 the envelope, and I drew it out, though some seconds 
 elapsed before I could read what was written upon 
 it. Conceive, if possible, my thoughts as I read the 
 following epistle :
 
 182 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 MONSIEUR : 
 
 Mon admiration de votre galanterie doit etre par- 
 tagee, je le sais bien, par ma compagne d'hier soir. 
 Mais c'est une de vos compatriotes, et vos compat- 
 riotes sont si modestes, si timides, si "shy" comme 
 vous le dites, n'est-ce-pas, que je doute qu'elle ne 
 vous laisse tin souvenir de 1'occasion. Ainsi je vous 
 envoi la photographic ci-incluse, sachant bien que 
 vous 1'estimerez a haut prix. Peut etre vous en 
 aura-t-elle fait cadeau d'une copie, ou bien, helas! 
 aurez-vous deja le privilege de pouvoir la comparer 
 avec 1'original. En tel cas je n'ai que la consolation 
 de pouvoir garder le representation de tant de beaute 
 et je suis siir que vous ne me jalouserez pas le pauvre 
 petit bonheur de contempler ces reproductions si 
 froides des charmes qui me sait maintenant perdues. 
 Veuillez, Monsieur, agreer 1'assurance de mes sen- 
 timents les plus distingues, 
 
 IVAN D'HAUTVILLE. 
 
 I read the letter twice, conscious all the while that 
 Lady Melode was watching the expression of my 
 face. Mechanically I refolded the letter, replaced it 
 in the envelope, and picked up the photograph, which 
 had fallen face downwards on the table. A word 
 arrested my further action. 
 
 "Mr. Hardinge " 
 
 "Yes," I answered.
 
 DISILLUSIONED 183 
 
 "That that letter concerns me?" Lady Melode's 
 eyes were bent downwards, and she spoke nervously. 
 
 "Intimately," I answered, with a scorn I could 
 not suppress. 
 
 "Then I have a right to see it," she asserted. 
 
 A wave of anger swept over me, and impelled me 
 to the performance of one of the most caddish ac- 
 tions of which I have ever been guilty. I do not seek 
 to defend myself. I was cad enough to hand to her 
 the letter I had just read. And while she read it in 
 turn I compared her face with the photograph in 
 my hand. Feature by feature they were the same. 
 Upon the finger of the outstretched hand, too, was 
 the ring which I was still wearing. Yet even as I 
 gazed a new hope took possession of me. Lady Mel- 
 ode laid the letter upon the table. 
 
 "And the souvenir?" she asked. 
 
 I hesitated. She looked me in the face now, and 
 if ever truth and purity were written on a woman's 
 face, they were limned upon hers. 
 
 "A photograph merely," I answered. 
 
 "You will let me see it," she said., as I still hesi- 
 tated. "I beg of you, Mr. Hardinge," and leaning 
 forward she took the photograph from my hand. 
 
 I made an effort to recover it, but I was too late. 
 As her eyes rested on the accursed thing a wave of 
 crimson flooded her face, and, receding, left her with 
 the pallor of death. 
 
 Then I spoke, though my words but ill expressed
 
 184 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 my emotions. "Lady Melode," I said, "tell me that 
 d'Hautville's suggestion is false. Tell me that this 
 photograph lies. I only ask your word. I am anx- 
 ious to believe you. I know that that man has some 
 power over you but I only ask your word." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 "Lady Melode," I urged, "one word is enough." 
 
 She made as if she would speak. Then the tears 
 gathered in her eyes. She rose swiftly and hurried 
 away from the room, the crystal tear-drops breaking 
 through her fingers as she held them to hide her face. 
 
 Until that moment I had not realised how strong 
 had been my hopes that the evidence which con- 
 demned her in my eyes could be explained away. 
 Her attitude left me hopeless.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE REBIRTH OF HOPE 
 
 How I managed to get through the rest of that 
 Sunday is not quite clear to me to-day. I know I 
 saw nothing more of Lady Melode, and I was pro- 
 foundly thankful when night came and I realised 
 that I should not meet her again. Now that she was 
 aware of what I knew concerning her, I could well 
 understand that the sight of me could not be other- 
 wise than distasteful to her, unless she wished me 
 to take d'Hautville's place, and in that regard well, 
 Duxworth had declared that I had not a particle of 
 shame in my composition, but I do not think I could 
 ever have brought myself to carry on an intrigue 
 such as my thoughts foreshadowed under the roof- 
 tree of the Duxworths. Besides, there was a further 
 reason for flight. Lady Melode's attitude seemed to 
 denote that she had repented of the past, and I feared 
 lest in the impulse of my passion I should also de- 
 clare that I could forget, even while knowing that 
 no man can bury for all time the knowledge which 
 has once passed into his brain. Better, I decided, 
 to take my heartache away with me than deliber- 
 ately enshrine such a skeleton in my cupboard. 
 
 185
 
 186 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 I rose early on Monday morning, after a sleepless 
 night. I breakfasted alone, for I had made my ex- 
 cuses to Mrs. Duxworth on the previous night say- 
 ing, quite truthfully, that the letter I had received 
 on the Sunday morning had made my return to town 
 at the earliest possible moment on Monday morning 
 imperative, and by eight o'clock I was on my way 
 back to town. 
 
 The morning was bitterly cold. During the night 
 the wind had gone round to the east. The country 
 which on the previous day had been palpitating with 
 life had fallen to stillness. The birds were silent, 
 the budding leaves seemed shrivelled. Spring had 
 departed from the face of the earth, even as it had 
 departed from my heart. 
 
 Clearing the town, I put in my highest gear and 
 rushed into the teeth of the wind, finding solace in 
 the bitterness of the blast. The dust foamed up be- 
 hind as I flew along with nothing to bar my pro- 
 gress. I had covered half a dozen miles in about 
 ten minutes, when a dust cloud ahead told me that 
 I was not the only motorist early awheel, and the 
 hope took me that fate might have another meeting 
 with d'Hautville in store for me. I picked up my 
 leader rapidly, but I soon saw that it was not the 
 white car which had hung on behind us from Net- 
 tlebed, but a blue car again. Even as I recognised 
 the car I was past, but not so rapidly but that I rec- 
 ognised the driver, and saw her signal me to stop.
 
 THE REBIRTH OF HOPE 187 
 
 I was in flight in order to prevent the possibility 
 of such a meeting, but at that signal my intentions 
 vanished. So while in one breath I cursed my folly, 
 and in another thanked the devil for my luck, I cut 
 out the engine and put on the brakes. 
 
 The blue car pulled up behind my Napier, and dis- 
 mounting, I went towards the Mercedes. But as I 
 came level and recognised Lady Melode sitting quite 
 calmly at the wheel, the thought came to me that 
 when she had signalled me to stop she had not rec- 
 ognised me, but had stopped me for some assistance, 
 under the impression that I was a stranger. So I 
 merely enquired coldly, as I raised my cap, whether 
 I could be of any assistance. 
 
 I knew by her attitude as I asked the question that 
 she had stopped me deliberately, and before she an- 
 swered me I had leisure to wonder why she had taken 
 such peculiar means for obtaining an interview when 
 she could have said anything she liked to me in the 
 breakfast room of the Duxworths' house. 
 
 At length she lifted her veil and spoke to me. "Mr, 
 Hardinge," she said, "yesterday morning you asked 
 me a question to which I did not reply." 
 
 "There is no reason why you should answer it. 
 Lady Melode." I strove to speak unconcernedly. 
 
 "There is a reason why I should answer it," sh'e 
 cried, passionately, "even as there is a reason why 
 I should keep silent. But I cannot keep silent any 
 longer. I cannot ! The sacrifice is too great !"
 
 188 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 At these words, spite of all I knew or thought, I 
 knew my heart leaped up again in hope. "That pho- 
 tograph that letter they both lied?" I asked. 
 
 "That letter was a lie. That photograph was not 
 of myself. How could you ? How dared you think 
 that I " 
 
 "How could I think otherwise?" I asked in aston- 
 ishment. "There cannot be two women so beautiful 
 known to one man " 
 
 She interrupted me. "But merely on d'Hautville'a 
 word," she said. 
 
 "Not that alone," I replied. "I have been at the 
 house where you stopped on Christmas night. I 
 have been in the studio " 
 
 "You must not believe your eyes," she said. "That 
 is not the photograph of myself." 
 
 "Then who " I began. 
 
 "You must not ask me," she answered. 
 
 My hopes withered again. I stood a moment in 
 silence, then I turned to depart. I was in no mood 
 to be made the sport of a woman of such sort. 
 
 "You do not believe me?" she cried. "You do 
 not believe me?" 
 
 "I have not said so," I answered, cruelly. 
 
 "Why should you believe me?" she asked, help- 
 lessly, while the tears gathered in her eyes. The 
 sight of her tears moved me as they had moved me 
 before. "Lady Melode," I said, "it is the one wish 
 of my heart to believe you, but you will not allow
 
 THE REBIRTH OF, HOPE 189 
 
 me to do so. I want to be of service to you, but as 
 we stand at present, I may, blundering along in the 
 dark, do you some irreparable mischief. You know 
 I have learned much since I bade you farewell on 
 Southampton platform." 
 
 "What have you learned ?" she asked, breathlessly. 
 
 "I have learned sufficient to tell me that you need 
 some one to protect you," I answered, and, carried 
 away by my emotion, I added : "Melode, won't you 
 give me the right to do so ?" 
 
 "No, thinking of me as you do " she whis- 
 pered. "I want no protector, Mr. Hardinge," she 
 said, and her voice was scornful and cold. 
 
 "If if you would only promise to become my 
 wife," I blurted out. 
 
 She looked me full in the face, and her eyes were 
 like stars swimming in mist. "You will break my 
 heart," she said. "How could I become your wife 
 while such photographs as those you have seen are 
 in existence?" 
 
 "Then you care?" I said, inconsequently, and 
 catching her hand I pressed it to my lips. 
 
 She looked at me strangely. "Before I answer 
 another question," she replied, "tell me everything 
 you have learned." 
 
 While she gazed at me frankly I did not dare 
 recapitulate all the damning evidence which had 
 come into my possession. "There is no necessity," 
 I said, all my doubts in full flight again. "The past
 
 190 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 is there." I pointed to the road we had traversed. 
 "One can never retrace life's highway." 
 
 "Tell me," she insisted. 
 
 In her presence it seemed desecration even to hint 
 at the knowledge I had gained, but there was no way 
 out of it, and haltingly I told her of all I had seen in 
 the house of the photographs. She listened intently, 
 and when I had ended my tale she remarked simply : 
 "I am glad you destroyed them. I did not know 
 they were in that house, or I should have made an 
 end of them myself." 
 
 I wondered greatly whether she was wanting in 
 some moral sense that she could refer so quietly to 
 the matter. In fact, every word she spoke seemed 
 to make of her character a greater enigma. 
 
 "You see I have destroyed the negatives," she 
 continued calmly. "They were in the box that my 
 companion brought away with her on that Christ- 
 mas night." 
 
 I rubbed my eyes in a puzzled sort of way, and I 
 suppose she must have read something of my 
 thoughts in my face, for she added : 
 
 "You do believe that I never posed for those hor- 
 rible prints ?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered. "When I am in your pres- 
 ence I cannot help believing your word; but when 
 you are absent I cannot get away from my doubts. 
 I cannot find any explanation, and it sends me mad 
 to think about the question at all."
 
 THE REBIRTH OF HOPE 191 
 
 "Can you imagine how I feel," she replied, "now 
 
 I know that you have seen them, especially >" 
 
 She paused, and plucked an envelope from some 
 place of concealment within her coat. "Imagine 
 yourself to be a woman who receives a letter like 
 this." 
 
 I took the letter from her hand. 
 
 "My sweet Melode," I read, "I am sending by 
 this same post a .souvenir to your impulsive young 
 knight. See that he receives it, or you may depend 
 upon my fulfilling my promise to distribute many 
 similar souvenirs amongst your friends. It will 
 probably save me any further trouble in putting an 
 end to his calf love; but that is as may be. In any 
 event, you deserve a little punishment, my dear lady, 
 for all the trouble you have caused me, though it 
 is nothing to what you may expect if you fail to com- 
 ply with my wishes. Ever your IVAN/' 
 
 I made no comment on this. There was only one 
 comment I could have made, and d'Hautville was 
 not present. 
 
 "Until I saw the photograph he sent you, I had 
 not the slightest idea that any of those photographs 
 could ever be taken for me. What am I to do? I 
 thought that all the negatives were destroyed, and 
 it appears that the worst of them is still in his pos- 
 session."
 
 192 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "If that is all that troubles you," I cried, "I will 
 obtain it." 
 
 "But how?" she asked. 
 
 I pondered a while, but could think of no plan, 
 so I remarked : "At present I see no way out of 
 the difficulty. Perhaps an idea will come to me later. 
 Meanwhile, I have not told you all that I have 
 learned. I have not told you that I know the story 
 of the ring you gave me?" 
 
 "The ring?" she queried. There was so much 
 astonishment expressed in her tone that I was mo- 
 mentarily convinced that she was unaware of the 
 history attached to it. 
 
 "Yes," I answered. "Meredith Mervyn is a friend 
 of mine, and he recognised it." 
 
 "Meredith Mervyn!" she gasped, as the colour 
 faded from her face and her hands dropped limply 
 to her side. 
 
 For a moment I thought that she had fainted, but 
 she was not of such weak material. She pulled her- 
 self together, though it was with a trembling- voice 
 that she said : "You will excuse me, Mr. Hardinge, 
 I must be returning to Marlow." 
 
 Even now, though my hopes, having been raised 
 sky-high, were once again dashed to the ground, I 
 could not let her depart. If she were to leave me 
 now I knew that I should never see her again. 
 
 "I hope you will not think, Lady Melode," I said,
 
 THE REBIRTH OF HOPE 193 
 
 "that I sought this information. Only by the purest 
 accident did it come into my possession." 
 
 "I can never think of you otherwise than as in- 
 stinctively honourable," she replied wearily. "It is 
 fate which will not allow anything to remain hid- 
 den." 
 
 "That story shall never be revealed/' I declared. 
 
 "I doubt it," she replied. "Good-bye, and thank 
 you." 
 
 She held out her hand to me, and I took it in mine. 
 The pressure of her fingers thrilled me, and I forgot 
 all my determination to avoid her for the future. 
 I cannot recall the actual words I used, but I know 
 I blundered headlong in an attempt to express my 
 thoughts. I told her that I knew of one way of 
 dropping a curtain upon the past. That in a new 
 land, and amid fresh scenes, all disagreeable rem- 
 iniscences would be forgotten. I begged that I might 
 be allowed to take her away, and promised her that 
 as my wife the thought of Mervyn nor of d'Haut- 
 ville should not be allowed to trouble her. 
 
 Something very like a smile brightened her face 
 as she listened. 
 
 "You would still marry me, Mr. Hardinge?" she 
 asked. "You would marry a woman who played 
 with an honest man's love in order to betray him 
 into the hands of a despicable lover? You would 
 marry a woman of whose shame you have had the 
 most terrible proofs?"
 
 194 THE LADY OF. THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "No more !" I cried, for I could not listen to such 
 a self-condemnation. "That woman is dead. The 
 past is dead. Whatever happened in the dead past 
 can make no difference to the fact that I love you 
 now." 
 
 There was a smile on her lips and a light in her 
 eyes that I had not expected, as I made my declara- 
 tion. Leaning towards me, she laid her two hands 
 lightly on my shoulders and looked me straight in 
 the face. 
 
 "My dear," she said softly, "do you know that 
 you have been labouring under a great mistake?" 
 
 "Then for God's sake make it plain to me!" I 
 cried. 
 
 "You seem to have been under the impression 
 that I am Lady Molly Temple," she said gravely. 
 "For her sake I had hoped that no one knew that 
 she was still living; for her sake, and not for my 
 own, though she is my sister." 
 
 "What a fool I have been, what a fool I beg you 
 
 to pardon me, I " Never could any man have 
 
 been more overwhelmed with shame than myself. 
 
 "I can easily see how you were misled if, knowing 
 my sister's most unhappy story, you saw me on terms 
 of apparent intimacy with d'Hautville, and " 
 
 "I cannot excuse myself," I interrupted. "I ought 
 to have known it was impossible for you " 
 
 "Hush !" said Lady Melode. "If you blame your- 
 self I shall be compelled to take a portion of the
 
 THE REBIRTH OF HOPE 195 
 
 blame on my own shoulders for not having 1 confided 
 the whole story to you at first. But you can un- 
 derstand how any one would shrink from telling it 
 to anybody. But you shall know everything very 
 soon now. Can you trust me for a little while long- 
 er Geoffrey?" 
 
 "For all time, if it pleases you," I answered. 
 
 "I shall not. keep you waiting for so long as that," 
 she replied, "but it is a long story, and I must be 
 returning to Marlow." 
 
 "I will return, too," I said, eagerly. 
 
 "I hardly think " she began. "It would be 
 
 awkward to explain to auntie and the others just at 
 present. I am not taking any one else into my con- 
 fidence, and none of them know that Molly is still 
 alive, you see." 
 
 "Then when shall I see you again?" I asked. 
 
 "I did think of going to see the trials in the Isle 
 of Man," she reflected. "Now please start my en- 
 gine." 
 
 I obeyed, somewhat mutinously. Then when the 
 engine was running I mounted the step and held out 
 my hand to bid her farewell. She took it, and as she 
 bent towards me our lips met. 
 
 A moment later I stood in the road as the Merce- 
 des glided away, and a soft good-bye floated softly 
 to my ears upon the wind. 
 
 When in my turn I started my car, the bite had 
 gone out of the east wind.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A WILD IDEA 
 
 I CAN recall absolutely nothing of the rest of my 
 journey back to town. My car travelled on air. Just 
 when the future looked black as night, when I saw 
 no solution to tHe mystery which enveloped the 
 woman I loved, save one which would have left her 
 bereft of all purity and honour, a simple word of 
 explanation had cleared up everything. It is true 
 that I had only my Lady Melode's word for the 
 truth of that explanation, but it was quite enough 
 for me. I would have backed my belief in the truth 
 of that word against the whole world. I knew I 
 should win, for if ever truth is made visible in hu- 
 man eyes, it was made manifest when she had as- 
 sured me that I had been labouring under a great 
 mistake. Of course, there were a number of puz- 
 zling circumstances, but I did not worry over them, 
 since I had received the assurance that they would 
 be soon made clear to me. 
 
 Then from the thoughts of my good fortune I 
 began to wonder what I could do to prevent further 
 annoyance from that unprincipled rascal d'Hautville. 
 I was not going to allow him, if I could prevent him, 
 
 196
 
 A WILD IDEA 197 
 
 to carry out his threat of distributing copies of that 
 photograph amongst Lady Melode's friends; but I 
 could not see how I was to acquire the negative, to- 
 gether with any other prints from it which might 
 still be in his possession. 
 
 I had the photograph still in my pocket, and I 
 took it out, with the intention of destroying it, when 
 I saw that it was a fresh print. There could be no 
 mistake on the point. When I had opened the en- 
 velope the photograph had appeared to be just an 
 ordinary finished print ; but now I observed that one 
 corner had escaped the fixing process and was re- 
 sponding to the action of the light. The only in- 
 ference to be drawn from the fact was that d'Haut- 
 ville carried the negative about with him, and if 
 I was to obtain possession of it, I must first find 
 out his present whereabouts. Here my memory 
 came to my aid. When, after d'Hautville's depar- 
 ture from the Duxworths' landing stage, my explan- 
 ation with Lady Melode had commenced, I remem- 
 bered her telling me that her enemy had made the 
 appointment I had broken in upon, by means of a 
 note delivered by the chauffeur of the white car 
 which had overtaken us on the return journey from 
 Oxford, while the Count had himself been in the 
 white car at the time. I had only to close my eyes 
 to recall the picture of the white car passing me on 
 the road, and my memory was sufficiently vivid to 
 record the letters and number on the back plate.
 
 198 THE LADY OF. THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 I had put up my car, and had returned to my 
 chambers, when this line of investigation occurred 
 to me. I did not, however, follow out my first im- 
 pulse and start forthwith to make enquiries on my 
 own account, for just then Coles came to report him- 
 self and to ask instructions, and the thought occurred 
 to me that he was far better qualified to make en- 
 quiries without exciting remark than myself. So 
 I explained to him exactly what I desired to be ascer- 
 tained, and with his customary "Very good, sir," 
 he went away on his errand. There was nothing 
 else for me to do but await the result of his inves- 
 tigations, so I strolled down to the club to lunch and 
 to kill time afterwards in the smoking-room. My 
 efforts in this direction were not very successful, and 
 when five o'clock arrived, without Coles having re- 
 turned, I began to curse him for his dilatoriness. I 
 did him an injustice, however, for when he did make 
 his appearance I found that he had been far more 
 successful than I had for a moment anticipated. 
 
 "It wasn't a difficult job, sir," he explained mod- 
 estly. "I knew the letters on the car you told me 
 
 about were those of " (he mentioned the 
 
 name of a well-known firm) "and I thought stran- 
 ger things had happened than my finding some one 
 I knew in their show. I wasrfl far wrong, for 
 when I got to the shop, the first chap I met was lit- 
 tle Billy Watts, who was cleaner at my first shop 
 in Long Acre. Then, to make things easier, the
 
 A WILD IDEA 199 
 
 very same white car you spoke about was standing 
 in the garage ready to go out. Count Doveel had 
 hired it, Billy said, and I soon got out of him where 
 the Count was hanging out. Then as the car was 
 just going down to the hotel for him and Billy was 
 driving it, I got him to give me a lift. So off we 
 went. Billy dropped me in the Strand and I hung 
 about until I saw the Count come out of the court- 
 yard in the car, and then I thought I might find 
 out something about him at the hotel. "I'm afraid 
 I took rather a long time about it, sir," he apolo- 
 gised, "but you said you wanted to know what sort 
 of style he was living in, and there's no way of doing 
 so except by seeing for one's self. So I drifted 
 round to the servants' quarters, knowing the way 
 pretty well through putting up there on previous oc- 
 casions, and I soon found out as the gent has a first- 
 class suite on the second floor, and is looked on as 
 quite a toff." 
 
 "Did you get his number ?" I asked. 
 
 "Number 59," Coles answered promptly. "I saw 
 that for myself. You see, sir," he continued, "I 
 spun a yarn that I was out of a job and had heard 
 that the Count wanted a chauffeur and persuaded 
 one of the maids to go and see if he was in. I told 
 her that I had a note of introduction which was 
 quite good enough to fix me up if it only got into 
 his own hands, and what with me promising to take 
 her out for a ride on her next Sunday out, and one
 
 200 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 thing and another, I got her to take me up, me to 
 wait in the corridor while she took the note in." 
 
 "But you had no note of introduction," I said. 
 
 "Knowing that he was out/' said Coles, "I wrote 
 the note myself. Anyway, the girl took me up. 
 There was no need to get the keys from the service 
 room, for the door was unlocked, and when she 
 went in I stood at the door and looked after her. 
 There was precious little to be seen. The Count's 
 
 man and a chap from 's" (mentioning the 
 
 name of a well-known costumer) "were unpacking a 
 parcel between them and the maid fetched me in to 
 speak to them. I told them my story, and the 
 Count's man told me that, so far as he knew, the 
 Count didn't want a chauffeur, and some one must 
 have been having me on. However, I asked if I 
 might be able to see him to-night. He said it was 
 likely, as his boss was dining out and going on to 
 the special ball at Covent Garden afterwards, the 
 parcel he was unpacking being the costume which 
 had just come home. So there being nothing else 
 to do, I came away, saying I wouldn't trouble any 
 of them any further." 
 
 This communication of Coles set me thinking. If 
 he had been so successful in penetrating d'Haut- 
 ville's apartment on one occasion, why should he not 
 do so a second time? I knew I could trust to his 
 fidelity, and, if supplied with adequate funds, there 
 might be a chance of persuading the chambermaid
 
 A WILD IDEA 201 
 
 who had already befriended him, or of bribing the 
 valet to obtain the negative and any prints from it 
 which might be in d'Hautville's possession. Or, 
 failing to obtain them, he might be able to ascertain 
 exactly where they were. The idea of taking any 
 one into my confidence, however, was not a pleasant 
 one, and still less did I like the thought of exposing 
 any one else to the risk of being charged with theft. 
 So, thanking Coles heartily for the thorough manner 
 in which he had carried out his enquiry, I dismissed 
 him and returned to the smoking-room to fully 
 digest the information he had obtained. I paused 
 at the door, for at that moment there came an idea 
 into my brain, one of those seemingly insane ideas 
 which come at times to every man, and which when 
 carried out are occasionally successful from their 
 very daring. 
 
 Without waiting to think it out I turned in my 
 tracks, obtained my hat and coat, and getting a cab 
 at the door, drove straight away to the costumer 
 who, as Coles had told me, had provided the dis- 
 guise for d'Hautville to wear that evening. Arriv- 
 ing at my destination, I found the principal over- 
 whelmed in business, but I managed to get a per- 
 sonal interview 7 with him, and, explaining to him 
 that I was desirous of playing a practical joke upon 
 an acquaintance, I asked him whether he would find 
 it possible in the time at his command to rig me out 
 in a disguise which would enable me to pass myself
 
 202 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 off as d'Hautville. I had some difficulty in persuad- 
 ing him to comply with my desire, but ultimately, 
 upon my assuring him that money was no object to 
 me, he undertook to do his best. I left him in order 
 to dine, after making an appointment at his estab- 
 lishment at ii P.M. for the purpose of being made 
 up. 
 
 I am quite willing to confess now that the idea 
 which had taken possession of my brain was just 
 about as mad as any that could have originated in 
 the minds of any of the residents at Colney Hatch. 
 I thought that if I were disguised as d'Hautville I 
 might be able to gain entrance to his rooms at his 
 hotel and see for myself whether the negative I 
 sought was hidden there. It was only after ar- 
 ranging for the disguise that I began to realise 
 the difficulties in my way. Quite possibly I might 
 be sufficiently disguised to pass muster under a 
 casual scrutiny, and, so far as height was concerned, 
 there was only an inch or so between the two of us. 
 But when I came to think out the details my hopes 
 of success seemed infinitesimal. I should have 1 to 
 obtain the key of his room from the hotel bureau, 
 and, even if facially I should escape detection, my 
 voice was so vastly different from d'Hautville's, both 
 in timbre and quality, that the difference would al- 
 most certainly be noticed. 
 
 Besides, he would leave the hotel in an overcoat, 
 and one could not count on the possibility of his
 
 A WILD IDEA 203 
 
 wearing a garment that would be identical with 
 mine. The more I pondered the matter, the more 
 absurd did my idea appear to be, and before I had 
 finished my dinner I was half inclined to telephone to 
 the costumer to countermand my order. Only one 
 thought restrained me. I was curious to know what 
 d'Hautville was doing at Covent Garden, and there 
 was a bare possibility that, habited as himself, I 
 might learn something regarding himself or his 
 associates which might be of service to me in the fu- 
 ture. So I kept my appointment and found my cos- 
 tume all ready, and the costumer prepared to put 
 the finishing touches when I had donned the dress. 
 
 The costume was not an elaborate one. D'Haut- 
 ville had chosen to go to the ball as a purely conven- 
 tional devil, in black silk tights, shirt and tail, with 
 the usual headgear, including the customary feather, 
 so that there was no difficulty over the provision of 
 this part of the disguise. But these properties were 
 only accessories. My real disguise was undertaken 
 by the costumer himself when with wig and paint 
 he set to work to deprive me of my identity. In the 
 course of half an hour he wrought a wondrous 
 transformation in my appearance. I was astounded 
 when, the operation being completed, I viewed my- 
 self in the glass. I even looked over my shoulder 
 to see whether d'Hautville had not entered the room, 
 for it seemed to me that the reflection confronting 
 me in the mirror was his.
 
 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "It is superb," I said to the costumer. "I even 
 mistook myself for the Count." 
 
 "I study all my customers," he replied modestly. 
 "I might even transform M. le Comte d'Hautville 
 into a replica of Mr. Hardinge." 
 
 The suggestion gave me pause. "I hope you will 
 do nothing of the sort," I remarked. 
 
 "Is he likely to desire me to do so?" asked the 
 man, 
 
 "I don't suppose so," I answered ; then I con- 
 tinued, as the thought occurred to me that it would 
 be just as well that I should provide against any en- 
 quiries that might be made, "If Count d'Hautville 
 should ask whether you know who has been person- 
 ating him, I hope you will not give me away." 
 
 Immediately suspicion flashed into his eyes. "The 
 Count is a friend, I think you said, sir ?" he asked. 
 
 "A rival would be a more correct way of putting 
 it," I replied. 
 
 "If I thought that you desired to use my art," he 
 said, with a magnificent wave of his hand, "for any- 
 thing but a friendly joke, it would be my duty to 
 inform M. le Comte d'Hautville." 
 
 "Listen," I replied. "You know nothing of me, 
 it is true - " 
 
 "If I am right in thinking that Mr. Geoffrey 
 Hardinge is the well-known automobilist - " 
 
 "Well, well," I interrupted. 
 
 "Since automobilism is my one recreation," he
 
 A WILD IDEA 205 
 
 answered, "I may say that the name of Mr. Geoffrey 
 Hardinge is not unknown to me." 
 
 "Then I hope you know enough of me to be as- 
 sured that I would do nothing that was not sport- 
 ing," I said. 
 
 "If I had not been perfectly assured on the point, 
 sir, I should not have carried out your suggestion. I 
 should, for instance, have refused to disguise Count 
 D'Hautville as yourself." 
 
 "Then you know something of the Count?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "I know that he will probably be one of your 
 rivals in the race for the Amateur Cup," he replied, 
 "that is, if each of you reach the final, and having 
 heard of his reputation I should have suspected that 
 he had some nefarious object in view if he had 
 wished to pass himself off as yourself." 
 
 "But he has the reputation of being a good sports- 
 man," I objected. 
 
 "That depends where you enquire concerning 
 him," he replied. "I have many customers in Paris 
 who are always in pursuit of the butterfly pleasure, 
 and they talk they talk. Many of them have talked 
 to me of M. le Comte d'Hautville." 
 
 "Then I may depend upon you as a brother auto- 
 mobilist?" I asked. 
 
 "I, shall be at the ball to-night," he answered, 
 "and if the Count asks me anything, I suppose I had 
 better deny all knowledge of you ?"
 
 206 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "If you can stretch your conscience to such an ex- 
 tent," I replied, "you may do me a service which I 
 shall hardly know how to repay." 
 
 "You may depend upon me," he replied seriously. 
 
 I shook him heartily by the hand and then I 
 looked round for my coat. The costumer produced 
 a Franciscan habit. "The Count's dress," he said, 
 "is intended to illustrate the proverb 'When the devil 
 is sick the devil a monk would be, when the devil is 
 well the devil a monk would he.' So he has pro- 
 vided for both characters." 
 
 I, too, donned the habit. "I do not know," I 
 mused aloud, "whether the devil himself would not 
 feel less uncomfortable in the habit of St. Francis 
 than d'Hautville." 
 
 "The habit is easily slipped off," said the cos- 
 tumer slyly.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 IN THE GUISE OF THE DEVIL 
 
 MIDNIGHT was striking as, fixing my hat firmly 
 on my head, I stepped into the cab which I had kept 
 at the door. 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir, but I'm drivin' another gent," 
 said the cabby through the trap as I sank back on 
 the seat. 
 
 "No, it's the same gent, though in different 
 clothes. Covent Garden," I said. 
 
 "Well, I will be d d," I heard the man re- 
 mark as he dropped the trap, and a few minutes 
 later the cab pulled up at the theatre entrance. 
 People were just beginning to arrive, so I left the 
 cab and walked past the string of waiting vehicles 
 and entered amongst a party. I went at once to the 
 cloak room, deposited my coat and set out in search 
 of my double. I was quite confident that my dis- 
 guise would not be penetrated, so I had no hesitation 
 in walking about quite freely. 
 
 The floor was rapidly filling, but not so thickly 
 that it was easy to see that there was no devil danc- 
 ing, and a hurried stroll through the promenades 
 
 207
 
 208 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 and corridors convinced me that, as had been my in- 
 tention, I had arrived before d'Hautville, unless he 
 was hidden away in one of the private boxes. I 
 pulled the cowl of my habit over my head and re- 
 turned to the vestibule, where I lit a cigarette and 
 placed myself in a convenient position to watch the 
 arrivals. 
 
 The stream of new-comers was continuous, as the 
 restaurants closed, and I waited with what patience 
 I might for d'Hautville's appearance. My patience 
 was not severely taxed. I had just lighted my sec- 
 ond smoke when he entered, accompanied by a cou- 
 ple of other men, one obviously a foreigner and the 
 other just as obviously an Englishman, but both of 
 them unknown to me. D'Hautville wore a big fur- 
 lined coat with a heavy sable collar, and the impossi- 
 bility of my attempting to pass myself off for him 
 at the hotel was immediately apparent to me, for I 
 had brought with me a coat of Irish frieze. He 
 did not glance in my direction, but turned at once 
 towards the cloak room. I followed the party, 
 rather annoyed at the sudden dishing of my hopes, 
 but intending to have another glance at the fa'es 
 of his companions. I saw them enter the cloak room 
 and I placed myself in a little niche where I should 
 be able to observe them plainly as they came out. 
 
 They soon got rid of their wraps and reappeared 
 chatting gaily. But I did not bestow the attention 
 I proposed upon the faces of d'Hautville's compan-
 
 IN THE GUISE OF THE DEVIL 209 
 
 ions. Chance had been more than kind to me 
 throughout, but now the goddess dealt me the ace 
 of trumps, for even as he came through the door a 
 piece of paper which I recognised as the cloak room 
 voucher fluttered from his habit to the floor. I 
 watched it eagerly, but until the party had passed 
 out of sight I dared make no movement to obtain the 
 prize. Those few moments of waiting were longer 
 than all the preceding hours of the day had been, 
 but my opportunity came at last, and I could have 
 shouted with exultation when my fingers closed 
 upon the ticket. 
 
 Holding the piece of paper in my hand, I went 
 straight upstairs to the refreshment buffet, and 
 choosing a secluded corner I ordered coffee and a 
 liqueur. The moment that piece of paper had flut- 
 tered to the ground I had determined upon the 
 course of action to pursue, if fate were kind enough 
 to enable me to pursue it. First, I would wait for a 
 short time, and as it would be advisable that d'Haut- 
 ville should have no idea that he had a double pres- 
 ent at the ball, I had of necessity to keep out of the 
 way. Once he saw me, I knew that he was astute 
 enough to realise intention in '-the disguise, and I did 
 not want to increase the risks attendant upon carry- 
 ing out the rest of my programme. I succeeded in 
 my object, for not a single person came near me, 
 and when a couple of dances had passed and the 
 band struck up for a third I went downstairs again.
 
 210 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 I gave one glance at the auditorium, and was glad 
 to see d'Hautville engaged in a waltz. My way was 
 clear. I went to the cloak room, quite calmly pro- 
 duced the voucher d'Hautville had dropped, and 
 without a word allowed the attendant to help me on 
 with it. My heart was in my mouth as I walked 
 down the passage and into the vestibule. 
 
 "I shall be back in half an hour," I said to the 
 commissionaire as I slipped half a crown into his 
 hand. 
 
 "Very good, my lord," he replied to the sable 
 collar, which I had turned up round my neck. 
 
 Then I jumped into a hansom which had just 
 set down another arrival and gave the address of 
 d'Hautville's hotel. A couple of minutes a long 
 couple of minutes, during the passage of which I 
 saw myself in the dock of a police court answering 
 to a charge of stealing a valuable fur coat elapsed, 
 and the cab rattled into the courtyard of the hotel. 
 I thrust my hands into the pockets of the coat in an 
 endeavour to simulate a nonchalance I did not feel 
 and my fingers closed on a key. I drew it out. 
 Again fortune had dealt me a trump card. If the 
 key was that of d'Hautville's suite I should have no 
 further difficulties to face. 
 
 Telling the cabman to wait, I entered the hotel, 
 and going straight to the lift gave the order to the 
 attendant, muffling my voice in my coat collar. He 
 obeyed without a word, and when I stepped out of
 
 IN THE GUISE OF THE DEVIL 211 
 
 the elevator I went straight to d'Hautville's rooms, 
 the position of which Coles had clearly explained 
 to me. My hand trembled a little as I inserted the 
 key in the lock, but the key turned. Switching on 
 the electric light, I closed the door behind me. So 
 far I had been successful. 
 
 Nor did my success end with my burglarious en- 
 try. With the door fastened behind me, I knew I 
 should be safe for a short time at all events, and I 
 determined to make a methodical search of his 
 apartments, commencing with the bedroom. There 
 is no need for me to go into details regarding my 
 search. It is sufficient for me to say that my object 
 was attained, for quite early I discovered the nega- 
 tive tucked away in a bag, which was not even 
 locked. It was in a little wooden box with half a 
 dozen others, none of which was of any interest 
 to me, though I examined them all carefully. I 
 still wished to assure myself that there were no 
 prints from the negative in d'Hautville's possession, 
 and on this point I was also soon satisfied, for in 
 the same bag I came across a little roll of half a 
 dozen, and, wrapping them up with the negative in 
 a piece of newspaper which was lying on the table, I 
 secured them in a pocket of the habit I was wearing, 
 and not thinking it worth while to encounter any 
 further risks, I switched off the light and left. 
 
 My nervousness had entirely left me when I had 
 closed the door behind me. I strolled leisurely down
 
 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 the stairs and nodded to the porter at the entrance. 
 I had not been challenged by a single person. I 
 drove back to Covent Garden. I redeposited the 
 coat in the cloak room and I re-entered the ball- 
 room exactly at 1.30, to find d'Hautville, even as he 
 had been when last my eyes had rested on him, en- 
 gaged in a waltz. 
 
 Now having so far achieved my object, wisdom 
 would have dictated the first opportunity of escap- 
 ing. But I was so elated with the result of my en- 
 terprise that I could not resist the temptation to fol- 
 low my luck through and to remain at the ball on 
 the off-chance of discovering something concerning 
 the Count and his companions. 
 
 My luck held true. As the dance ended I was 
 standing near one of the exits in the shadow when 
 d'Hautville passed me. He had doffed the habit 
 for dancing, and made a very pretty figure of a 
 devil, for he was slim, and the black silk tights and 
 smalls set off his figure to advantage. I did not at- 
 tract his notice as he passed with his companion 
 towards the lounge. I let him get well ahead, and 
 was about to follow him, when I felt a pull at my 
 sleeve, and a voice whispered in my ear, "The lady 
 has arrived, M. le Comte. She is in No. 4 on the 
 first tier." 
 
 I made no movement. I was too astonished to 
 do so, for I had forgotten for the moment that I 
 was in effect d'Hautville. I glanced at the speaker,
 
 IN THE GUISE OF THE DEVIL 
 
 and as I gave him a nod of comprehension he passed 
 on and mingled with the throng in the promenade. 
 I had recognised him as one of the men who had ac- 
 companied d'Hautville upon his arrival at the ball. 
 Clearly he had been watching for the arrival of 
 somebody, and had only missed by a few seconds 
 announcing the arrival to the right person. But 
 how to make use of the information? I had not 
 long to decide. Sooner or later the man would dis- 
 cover that there were two devils in monk's clothing 
 present, and then my opportunity of discovering 
 anything would be gone. 
 
 Even as I considered the best course to adopt, my 
 feet were committing me to definite action. They 
 carried me up the stairs, and almost before I realised 
 what I was about I found myself rapping at the 
 door of No. 4. 
 
 There was no waiting, no time to draw back, for 
 immediately I knocked the door opened and I was 
 compelled to enter. I did so automatically. I was 
 silent, for I had no word to say, nor was a word 
 said to me in greeting. But had I been overflowing 
 with speech I should have been frozen dumb. The 
 occupant of the box was a lady. She was alone, 
 and, despite the domino which concealed her form. 
 and the mask which hid her face, I seemed to recog- 
 nise her. If the events of the evening had not turned 
 my brain, I believed that I was again face to face 
 with Lady Melode, I seemed to see all the super-
 
 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 structure of hope I had built up upon my interview 
 with her that morning crumbling to dust. What 
 could she be doing at Covent Garden at two in the 
 morning with d'Hautville? 
 
 I forgot my disguise. I did not for a moment 
 imagine that the woman seated before me in the 
 bright light while I stood in the shadow would 
 recognise d'Hautville in me, and in a voice which 
 was husky with emotion I said, "I am here to take 
 you away. You must come with me. You have 
 nothing to fear. You - " 
 
 A laugh interrupted my outburst a cold, bitter 
 laugh that chilled me. Then the lady spoke. "Ex- 
 cellent, M. le Comte," she said. "Excellent, if you 
 were only certain to whom you are speaking." 
 
 The voice was Melode's voice, but it was differ- 
 ent. To my ear it sounded older, harsher my Lady 
 Melode's voice with the music going out of it. It 
 continued : "It is a pity that so much excellent emo- 
 tion should be wasted, M. le Comte, on one who 
 knows so well how much value to place upon it. As 
 a histrionic effort it really would do credit to the 
 gentleman you represent to-night." 
 
 As she spoke, my doubts had been cr\ Jtallising 
 into certainties. This was not my Lady Melode, but 
 Lady Molly Temple. The next words which fell 
 from her lips proved it. 
 
 "You did not expect to meet me here, but at the 
 same time I should have thought that you could
 
 IN THE GUISE OF THE DEVIL 215 
 
 have spared me one word of welcome. I know that 
 I am but a poor substitute for my sister, but really 
 M. le Comte, you must appraise your fascinations at 
 an extraordinary value if you imagined that she 
 would keep the appointment. What? Have you 
 nothing- to say? I have not known your speech to 
 desert you before." 
 
 I muttered something unintelligible, and at the 
 same moment there came a knock at the door. There 
 was only one thing to do. 
 
 "I think, madam," I said, "that I am the victim 
 of an unfortunate mistake. The message which 
 brought me to this box must have been intended 
 for some one else." 
 
 My voice in its natural tone wrought an immedi- 
 ate change in the manner of her speech. She rose 
 from her seat, and holding the mask close to her 
 face, looked closely into mine. 
 
 "You are not M. le Comte d'Hautvilk ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Heaven forbid," I answered piously, and I 
 opened the door of the box in obedience to a second 
 summons. 
 
 As I anticipated, d'Hautville himself entered, and 
 as his gaze rested on me I could have laughed at 
 the amazement expressed therein. 
 
 "Is it that there are two of me ?" he asked. 
 
 "Impossible," I replied lightly. 
 
 "Then will you please to inform me why you are
 
 216 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 here?" he said with a burst of anger which set his 
 r's rolling like the burr of a 6o-horse car on the 
 level. 
 
 "I am afraid you must blame my unfortunate 
 likeness to yourself, sir, and the fact that I have hit 
 upon a similar costume," I replied, "together with 
 the fact that I also had an appointment. For 
 the intrusion may I hope to be forgiven?" 
 
 Then with a bow I vanished, though not until I 
 had dropped on the floor the cloak room voucher 
 for d'Hautville's coat.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 GOLDEN DAYS 
 
 I HAD observed a puzzled look in d'Hautville's 
 eyes while I was speaking, as if he was struggling to 
 recognise my voice. But he clearly had not done so 
 when I departed, and I thought the best way of 
 putting him entirely off the scent as to my identity 
 would be to act as if my appearance in the box had 
 indeed been due to the accident I had declared it 
 to be. 
 
 I hastened down the stairs and blundered into a 
 couple of girls engaged in fixing up a torn flounce. 
 I apologised for my clumsiness. 
 
 "The only apology I can accept is the next 
 dance," said one of them saucily. 
 
 I proffered the apology, and the band striking up, 
 I threw my habit on to a seat and we joined the 
 waltzers. My partner waltzed perfectly and, to my 
 satisfaction, was quite content to dance without be- 
 ing talked to the whole time. While we whirled 
 round I managed to keep my eye on the box, and 
 before the dance was over I saw d'Hautville and his 
 companion rise to leave. Pleading the heat, I took 
 
 217
 
 218 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 my partner into the vestibule, which we reached 
 just as the two I was watching passed through the 
 doors. D'Hautville was cool and smiling. The 
 lady still had on her mask, but from her attitude I 
 judged that whatever had passed between them had 
 not been provocative of friendly feeling. Indeed, 
 when he would have assisted her into a brougham 
 in waiting, she thrust his hand aside and took 
 no notice of him when he waved his hand in fare- 
 well. 
 
 All the while my partner was chattering to me 
 and I was answering in monosyllables, so that I was 
 not altogether surprised when, telling me that I was 
 an intolerably stupid devil, she betook herself in 
 search of some more entertaining companion. 
 
 D'Hautville passed me at the moment and half 
 paused as if he would speak, but, changing his mind, 
 he passed me towards the cloak room. A minute 
 later he reappeared muffled in his fur coat and 
 passed out of the house. I had not anticipated his 
 leaving so early and was unprepared for this move. 
 I could not very well follow him in the garb I was 
 wearing without exciting attention, yet I had no in- 
 tention of letting him get out of my sight, so I 
 rushed off to the cloak room, and as soon as I had 
 obtained my coat and hat I followed. Of course he 
 had disappeared, so I jumped into a cab and bade 
 the driver take me down the Strand. There were 
 very few people about, and half way to his hotel I
 
 GOLDEN DAYS 219 
 
 saw d'Hautville walking quietly along-. We drove 
 past him, and fifty yards beyond the hotel I stopped 
 my cab. He entered his hotel. I waited a couple of 
 minutes, and as he did not make his appearance 
 again, I gave my address to the driver and went 
 home myself. 
 
 Late as was the hour when I reached my cham- 
 bers, I did not turn in until I had pieced together all 
 that had happened to me that eventful day. My 
 cogitations may be briefly summarised. First, I 
 had Lady Melode's declaration that I had been la- 
 bouring under a great mistake when I had identified 
 her as the original of the photographs I had seen. 
 In the morning I had only her word for it, but now 
 I had seen her sister, and though the opportunity I 
 had to look at her masked face was very brief, 
 I could see that a few years previously she would 
 have almost exactly resembled Lady Melode. 
 There was confirmation, too, in the remarks which 
 had been addressed to me under the supposition 
 that I was d'Hautville, of Lady Melode's statement 
 that, after ruining the life of the elder sister, he was 
 now striving to get the younger one into his-^rower. 
 Well, he would have to reckon with me there, I 
 thought. Even with this amount of knowledge in 
 my possession, there were a number of puzzling facts 
 to account for, but they were not enough to keep me 
 awake, and ultimately I went to bed with a lighter 
 heart than I had known for months past. It was
 
 220 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 pleasant also to think that I had succeeded so easily 
 in the enterprise I had set myself to perform. I 
 locked the negative and the prints from it which I 
 had taken from d'Hautville's room carefully away, 
 and when I awoke in the morning it was with a de- 
 lightful sense of having scored heavily off my 
 opponent. 
 
 I have said the morning, but it was long past 
 noon when I awakened, and Coles looked at me re- 
 proachfully when he brought in my breakfast. I 
 knew that he was pitying me for spending any por- 
 tion of such a brilliant spring day in bed. I soon 
 made him happy by telling him that if my new rac- 
 ing car was in trim I proposed to take the road 
 en route for the Isle of Man via Holyhead. This 
 was a couple of days earlier than I had intended 
 to start, but I was impatient to see Lady Melode 
 again, and as she had not stated on what day she 
 proposed going over, I thought that I would be 
 there at the earliest possible moment, so that I should 
 not miss an hour more than I could help of her 
 society. 
 
 My decision was confirmed when later in the 
 'afternoon I met Duxworth at the club. He in- 
 formed me that Lady Melode, with his mother and 
 sister, had that very morning started on a leisurely 
 tour northwards on their way to the same destina- 
 tion. I offered him a seat on my car, for I knew 
 Coles would not mind riding with his feet on the
 
 GOLDEN DAYS 
 
 footboard, but he told me that London had su- 
 perior attractions. 
 
 So, early the next morning, Coles and I started 
 alone. I chose a route by which I hoped to over- 
 take Lady Melode by some happy chance. But in 
 this hope I was disappointed, and though we over- 
 hauled numbers of cars on the road, not one of them 
 contained the passengers I desired to see. 
 
 At Liverpool, which I reached on the afternoon 
 of the second day, I stopped for the night, and ar- 
 ranged for the transport of my car to the island on 
 the following morning. I had been immensely 
 pleased by the way she had behaved. Of course, I 
 had been unable to let her go at anything like her 
 full speed, but the way in which she took the hills 
 without a single complaint was a proof of her abili- 
 ties, and I expected confidently that the car would 
 turn out to be a real flier. In fact, barring acci- 
 dents, I realised that I stood a very good chance of 
 inclusion in the British team for the race. 
 
 Coles was quite certain on the point. He had 
 been quite enthusiastic on the subject of Napier 
 motors, and when we looked over the machinery to- 
 gether to see how the parts had stood the journey, he 
 could barely find words to express his admiration. 
 Hardly a nut wanted tightening, so truly had the 
 parts been fitted and so accurately had they been 
 put together. 
 
 Our passage to the island the next morning was
 
 222 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 a calm one, and we landed at Douglas in the most 
 cheerful of spirits. I looked out anxiously for any 
 signs of Lady Melode, but neither she nor any of 
 the Duxworths were visible, nor did their names 
 appear in the visitors' list, so I judged that after all 
 I had arrived before them. 
 
 I did not remain in Douglas, for I had already se- 
 cured my rooms at an hotel more convenient to the 
 starting place, and we were comfortably ensconced 
 there that same night. 
 
 We were both up half an hour before dawn the 
 next morning to make a preliminary circuit of the 
 course before any traffic should be about and to ob- 
 tain some idea of the difficulties we should be called 
 upon to negotiate. We were not the first upon the 
 road, for a good number of cars had already turned 
 up, and when we returned to our hotel for breakfast 
 there was quite an assemblage to see the racers 
 come in. Lady Melode was not present, so when 
 the boat was due I ran down to Douglas to see if 
 she would arrive that day. I had miscalculated the 
 time of the boat's arrival, for she was lying along- 
 side the pier when I made my appearance, and the 
 passengers were streaming past me by the time I 
 reached the pier gates. But I saw the one figure I 
 sought. I had no eyes for any one else. I was 
 hardly conscious that she was not alone as I sprang 
 from my seat and hastened to welcome her, and I 
 fancy Mrs. Dux worth must have been more than a
 
 GOLDEN DAYS 223 
 
 little astonished at the warmth of my greeting to 
 her niece, seeing that when we had met at Marlow 
 there had still been the constraint of casual visitors 
 between us. 
 
 I was only recalled to a sense of my surroundings 
 by the elderly lady's voice as she remarked, "What 
 have I done that I should be so completely forgotten, 
 Mr. Hardinge?" 
 
 I turned to her with a confused apology for my 
 rudeness, and gathered from a twinkle in her eye 
 that she was more amused than annoyed at the 
 frank exhibition I had made of the state of my feel- 
 ings. However, I made amends by looking after 
 the luggage of the whole party and afterwards tak- 
 ing them to their hotel. 
 
 Then commenced a most delightful time for me. 
 I am not going to dwell upon the details of my life 
 during the next fortnight. A very brief summary 
 of one day's doings will suffice. Regularly at four 
 A.M. I turned out for a run over the course at racing 
 speed. Morning after morning I saw the sun rise 
 under perfect conditions, a quite sufficient compensa- 
 tion for the extra energy required to drag one from 
 bed at so early an hour. At seven I returned to the 
 hotel for breakfast with an appetite sharpened by the 
 keen salt air I had breathed. There is no appetiser 
 in the world like it, and I will warrant that a three- 
 hour motor run before breakfast will cure nearly 
 every ill to which man is heir save, perhaps, a
 
 224, THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 tendency to embonpoint. After breakfast the car 
 had to be overhauled. There was always some 
 slight betterment or experiment to be tried, and for 
 the rest of the day the staff of mechanics who had 
 come over to look after the car were busily em- 
 ployed under Coles' supervision in carrying out the 
 minor improvements which suggested themselves 
 to us. I ought, I suppose, to have looked after these 
 details myself, but I knew Coles could be trusted. 
 The winning of the race was at that moment the 
 most important thing in the world to him, while to 
 me it was of merely secondary interest. So I de- 
 voted the remainder of each day to my Lady Mel- 
 ode. I became an inseparable unit of the Duxworth 
 party. I was welcome, I knew, though even if my 
 greeting on their arrival had not given me away, 
 my conduct during the succeeding days would in- 
 evitably have done so. 
 
 We had glorious rides and walks in the sweeping 
 uplands, golden in the spring garb of the gorse and 
 the broom. The intoxication of spring was in the 
 air and it was in our blood too. It was no time for 
 morbid thoughts, at least to my mind, and not many 
 days had passed before I had again made the avowal 
 that under such circumstances it would have been 
 natural for any man to make. The brightest day of 
 all was when my yes, "my" Lady Melode con- 
 fessed that she returned my love. 
 
 The occasion was this. The first time I found
 
 GOLDEN DAYS 
 
 myself alone with her I handed to her a little packet 
 containing the negative and prints. "In fulfilment 
 of my promise," I remarked. 
 
 In some wonderment she opened the packet, and 
 when she realised of what the contents consisted, 
 her amazement became greater. 
 
 "Where did you get them ? I don't understand," 
 she said. 
 
 I gave a full history of my adventures after I 
 had parted from her on the Marlow road until the 
 time I returned to my chambers on the night of the 
 Covent Garden ball, and I was amply repaid for all 
 the risks I had incurred by sight of the delight on 
 her face as she pounded the negative to fragments 
 with a big stone and tore the prints into tiny pieces 
 that the wind scattered far and wide over the 
 heather. 
 
 "There goes the only reason which prevents you 
 saying yes to my request," I said exultingly. 
 
 "What request?" She pretended not to under- 
 stand. But I was not loth to ask the question again, 
 and it was then that she placed her hands in mine 
 and spoke the words I had so thirsted to hear. 
 
 It was a little later that I besought her to consent 
 to the announcement of our engagement, but this she 
 denied me. 
 
 "Not yet, Geoffrey," she said, and my name on 
 her lips was the sweetest music I had ever listened 
 to. "It is not time for that yet. But soon one day
 
 226 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 not far distant now when you have heard the 
 whole of the story I have to tell and all danger is 
 past" 
 
 "My dear," I said, "I know enough of the story 
 you were at such pains to conceal, and as for any 
 danger coming through d'Hautville, have I not 
 beaten him every time ?" 
 
 "You know much, Geoffrey," she said, "but you 
 do not know everything. I would tell you the whole 
 unhappy story now only I don't want to remem- 
 ber it. For years it has been my one thought how 
 to get poor Molly out of the hands of that man, and 
 now I have succeeded I want to be rid of all 
 thoughts of it for awhile. The matter has haunted 
 me until it has become an obsession. But here I 
 have felt at last that I have done with it. You can 
 wait a little longer for full details. You can trust 
 me, Geoffrey ?" 
 
 Could I trust her? I would have trusted her 
 with my soul, and I said so. 
 
 "Then we will not spoil these golden days with 
 memories," she said. I fell in with her desire, 
 though I knew her argument was fallacious, for if 
 anything relieves a man or a woman's mind upon 
 any subject of troublesome thought it is the chatting 
 it over with a friend who is worthy of confidence. I 
 did hint that this would be the best for her, but I 
 did not press the matter, and so the past was not 
 mentioned between us.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE ELIMINATING TRIALS 
 
 DURING the whole of those happy days in the 
 Isle of Man, only one little difference of opinion 
 arose between us, though that was so slight that it 
 was hardly worth dignifying with the name of a dif- 
 ference. This was with reference to my entry for 
 the Amateur Cup. Lady Melode, instead of being 
 as I had expected, keen on my winning my trial, 
 showed but a lukewarm interest in my chances. 
 
 The day before that set for the race I rallied her 
 upon her indifference, and to my surprise she con- 
 fessed to a hope that I should be eliminated from 
 the finals. I suppose my face must have declared 
 how hurt I felt, for she hastened to explain. 
 
 "It is not because I want to see you beaten, 
 Geoffrey, though I am not sure that defeat would 
 not be useful if it modified the very excellent conceit 
 you have of yourself. No, you must not you will 
 ruffle my hair and auntie will say things. You know 
 that I would like you to win everything you desire 
 in life from a pot to " 
 
 "To a wife!" I interjected, as she paused for a 
 suitable simile. 
 
 227
 
 228 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Silly !" she answered. "You know that there 
 is only one woman you could win." 
 
 "How do you know?" I asked. 
 
 "Because I am certain that there could not be two 
 women in the world silly enough to marry you," she 
 replied, saucily. "But that is not the real reason. 
 I am rather dreading your returning to France." 
 
 "You have surely no fear of d'Hautville left?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "It isn't exactly fear though, yes, Geoffrey, it 
 is fear. Fear lest he should manage to do you some 
 harm. You have beaten him at every point, and he 
 is not likely to take his defeat lying down. Over 
 here he might find it difficult to do anything, but in 
 France " 
 
 "In France the innocent man is safe, if not safer, 
 than in this country," I said, thinking of the charge 
 he had threatened to bring against me. 
 
 "I cannot think that his threats were meaning- 
 less," she continued. "It would be horrible to think 
 that you should even be arrested on a charge of 
 murder." 
 
 "I don't think there is the least likelihood of that 
 happening," I declared. "I am quite certain in my 
 own mind that d'Hautville was only bluffing. De- 
 pend upon it, that he has the strongest reasons why 
 there should be no further enquiry into the death of 
 poor Lucille. It would be quite easy to prove that 
 he was left alone in that house with her."
 
 229 
 
 "It may be that you are right," she replied 
 doubtfully, and there the matter dropped for a time. 
 
 The conversation made me think, however. I had 
 been so delightfully occupied since I had arrived 
 at the island that I had not once considered the mat- 
 ter, but now I deliberated very seriously as to 
 whether it would not be the best to let the race go 
 to some other competitor. Not on my own ac- 
 count. I had no fear of d'Hautville now, but if he 
 did take any such action as Lady Melode had sug- 
 gested, there was at least a chance of the whole 
 story she had striven so hard to conceal being told 
 to the world. While the current of my thoughts 
 ran in this channel I remembered what Melode had 
 remarked concerning my conceit, and I perceived 
 that she had pretty good grounds for bringing the 
 charge against me. Here was I so cock-sure of be- 
 ing selected as one of the team that I was seriously 
 considering withdrawal before the trials took place. 
 It was counting my chickens before they were 
 hatched with a vengeance. It was a revelation of a 
 side of my character I had hardly known to exist, 
 and with a new-born modesty I determined to post- 
 pone the decision as to withdrawal until it was set- 
 tled whether I should have any option in the mat- 
 ter. After all, there were a number of good reasons 
 why I should not be called upon to compete in the 
 race in the shape of the fifteen competitors I had tc 
 meet in the trials, and when I came to consider the
 
 230 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 matter, they were just as likely to eliminate me as I 
 was to eliminate any of them. 
 
 I explained this point of view to Melode on the 
 morning of the trials about five minutes before I 
 was due to start. She laughed and declared that I 
 was a sorry humbug. I suppose I was humbugging 
 myself all the time, for when I took my seat and 
 gripped the wheel I felt as if nothing could stop 
 me, and the determination to get every ounce out of 
 my car was as irresistible as ever I had found it on 
 previous occasions. 
 
 I made an excellent start. The car took off with 
 the smoothness of skates upon ice, and we glided 
 up the hill at Quarter Bridge to the deep baying of 
 our exhaust with an ease which thrilled me with de- 
 light. Nor was my delight lessened by the behav- 
 iour of the car over the first two laps. As every au- 
 tomobilist knows, the island course, with its many 
 sharp corners and few straight stretches where lost 
 time can be made up, is not an ideal racing track, 
 and when my own rough timing between the con- 
 trols showed me that I had averaged just an hour 
 and a quarter for each of the two rounds, I began to 
 feel still more certain that I should be in the final. 
 I had further grounds for the belief, inasmuch as I 
 had already passed four of the cars which had 
 started before me, while I had not been passed 
 myself. 
 
 This confidence came near to bringing about my
 
 THE ELIMINATING TRIALS 231 
 
 undoing. I knew my car could cut a bit off the 
 time I had hitherto been rounding the circuit in, and 
 the third time, just out of Ramsey, on the Snaefell 
 road, I began to push her. Here the surface, owing 
 to the long spell of dry weather, and the considerable 
 amount of traffic which had passed over it during 
 the past few days, had become pretty rough, and we 
 went bumping over the ground in a way that made 
 me cling to the steering wheel for dear life. One 
 bigger bump than usual bounced me out of my seat 
 and momentarily lost me control of the car. Luckily 
 I got hold of the wheel within a second, but, during 
 that second, the car swerved viciously for a wall, 
 and as I brought it round I heard the grit of the off 
 fore wheels against the stone. I moderated my pace 
 a bit then, but hearing Coles shouting in my ear that 
 another car was closing in upon me from behind, I 
 let my car go again, quite forgetting that the most 
 ticklish turn in the whole course, the hairpin corner, 
 where the Ramsey and Douglas roads divide, was 
 not more than half a mile distant. Consequently I 
 came to the spot at a speed I had never intended, 
 and, being on the turn before I knew, I was com- 
 pelled to take it as widely as possible. Even then 
 I only got round by the skin of my teeth. We slith- 
 ered round in a scrambling, hap-hazard fashion that 
 nearly flung Coles out on to the road and made me 
 uncertain whether the car was not going to turn 
 over bodily. Fortunately the surface was good at
 
 232 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 the turn, and a bad skid was the only result of my 
 carelessness, if I except the fact that my time for the 
 lap was only a minute over the hour. 
 
 I learned before I started on the fourth lap that 
 I was well within the times of my competitors, so 
 that I decided to take no more risks. Thus, for the 
 rest of the fourth and sixth rounds, I might have 
 been touring as one would tour on roads free of 
 traffic and unpatrolled by the county constabulary. 
 The result was that I finished without having found 
 it necessary to stop once for repairs and without 
 having met w r ith a single accident, an experience so 
 unusual that I naturally thought the performance 
 was not likely to be bettered by more than two of my 
 opponents. 
 
 My confidence in my car was justified by the 
 judges' decision, and before I turned in that night I 
 had the satisfaction of knowing that I had been 
 selected as a member of the team which was to 
 make the attempt to bring the Amateur Cup over to 
 England. 
 
 Of course Melode was the first person whom I 
 made acquainted with the decision, and I was just a 
 little anxious as to whether she would not desire me 
 to forego the contest, but to my unfeigned delight 
 she did nothing of the sort. I told her that I was 
 glad that she had come round to my opinion as to 
 the slightness of any danger accruing to me from 
 d'Hautville's enmity.
 
 THE ELIMINATING TRIALS 233 
 
 "No, it is not that," she said. "I am as certain 
 as ever that he will attempt to do you some injury 
 but if you do not give him an opportunity soon, he 
 may wait until later, when you might be less pre- 
 pared to meet him. It seems to me to be better for 
 you to give him an opportunity soon, rather than 
 wait and let him strike you when you have become 
 careless." 
 
 I laughed. "You really still think he is to be 
 feared?" I asked lightly. 
 
 "I am as certain that he will attempt to be re- 
 venged as I am of my own existence," she answered 
 earnestly. "I only wish I could learn how and when 
 he intends to play for his revenge. I know enough 
 of him to be assured that, sooner or later, it might 
 be to-morrow, or it might be twenty years hence, he 
 will make an attempt to get even with you, Geoffrey. 
 He will never forget the blow you dealt him at the 
 house on the Quai d'Auteuil, he will never forgive 
 the ducking in the river, even if he could have man- 
 aged to forget and forgive the way in which you 
 have, as he thinks, come between himself and me." 
 
 "Well, he will find me ready for him," I answered 
 light-heartedly. 
 
 "You will be careful, Geoffrey," she continued 
 earnestly. "There is nothing he would stick at. 
 When he learns ,who is engaged in the race I 
 dread to think of the dangers which may await 
 you."
 
 284 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Time enough to think of dangers when they are 
 visible," I said. "A motor race gives precious little 
 opportunity for any calculated attempt to injure any 
 individual competitor. Besides, there is a chance that 
 he may be one of the selected French team, so that 
 we may meet again as rivals." 
 
 "Still, you will promise me that you will take no 
 extra risks?" she pleaded. 
 
 I promised, and the bargain was sealed then and 
 there. Then I went to inform Coles of our luck. 
 
 I found him in the building where the car was 
 housed, oiled up to his ears, a grin half way round 
 his face and a bunch of cotton waste in his hand. 
 
 "Bet you ten to two we pinch that Amateur Cup. 
 sir," he said. "I've been over every bearing and 
 nut, and the car's as sound as a bell." 
 
 "So long as no one meddles with her I think we 
 stand a fair chance of pulling it off," I assented. 
 
 "I'll see to that," he replied, and he went straight- 
 way to work again, whistling "Rule, Britannia," the 
 while, horribly out of tune.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 
 
 THREE days later I stood by my Lady Melode's 
 side on the deck, as the boat by which we were re- 
 turning steamed out of Douglas harbour. I think 
 we both looked back regretfully on the dimming 
 hilltops. I know I did, and I said to my companion. 
 "Thank heaven no one can rob me of the memory 
 of the happy days I have passed there." 
 
 "Have they been so delightful?" she murmured. 
 
 "The happiest of my life," I said, with a fervour 
 that brought an additional colour to her cheek as 
 she whispered, "Hush!" 
 
 Thereafter we watched in silence while the island 
 faded away from our sight, and when the last hill 
 had disappeared, and going forward we could just 
 see the outlines of the English coast, she sighed 
 lightly and asked, "What of the future, Geoffrey?" 
 
 "We will meet that together," I replied, and for 
 answer I had a glance which made me chafe that 
 the boat was crowded with passengers. 
 
 My plans for the immediate future were all made. 
 The day after the trials Coles had departed with the 
 
 235
 
 racing car. He had my instructions to see it thor- 
 oughly overhauled in the Napier factory, and with 
 the two mechanics who had acted as his assistants to 
 proceed afterwards to Roy at. There I was to join 
 him for the tuning-up process. As I had already 
 been over the Auvergne circuit several times, I 
 thought that if I arrived a fortnight before the race 
 I should be in ample time to refresh my memory. 
 That would give me a week in town and several days 
 of the companionship of Melode. 
 
 I tried to persuade the whole party to come on 
 to Royat for the race, but Mrs. Duxworth declared 
 that the journey would be far too fatiguing for her 
 to undertake, and Melode insisted that her presence 
 would only be an additional menace to my safety. 
 By this time, though no announcement of any kind 
 had been made, my position towards Melode was 
 pretty well understood, and, indeed, towards the end 
 of the visit we had been markedly left to our own 
 devices. 
 
 It was a great wrench for me to leave the party 
 at Liverpool, but they had their touring car with 
 them, while I was returning to town by rail. So, 
 after accepting an invitation to lunch at Claridge's 
 a couple of days later, I was obliged to tear myself 
 away. I felt quite lost, too, when I returned to my 
 chambers. The rooms looked gloomy and depress- 
 ing, so I dressed hurriedly and went out in search 
 of a more cheerful atmosphere, telling myself the
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 237 
 
 while that I would divest myself of bachelorhood at 
 the earliest possible moment. 
 
 The dining-room at the club was pretty full, and 
 I was looking round for a seat, when I observed 
 Mervyn in his usual place, and at once made my way 
 towards him. 
 
 "The very man I desired to see," I said, as I came 
 behind him. 
 
 He jumped to his feet at the sound of my voice 
 and remarked, "You have taken the words out of 
 my mouth, Hardinge." 
 
 "Then you have something to tell me?" I asked, 
 as I seated myself opposite him. "I also have a 
 story to relate." 
 
 "Mine will keep," he said. "You shall have first 
 innings." 
 
 "We will argue the point while we dine," I re- 
 plied. 
 
 "I suppose you have seen the results of the 
 French eliminating trials?" he asked. 
 
 "No," I answered, "I haven't seen this evening's 
 papers." 
 
 "Then you will be interested to learn that our 
 friend is one of the competitors selected to represent 
 France in the race," said Mervyn. 
 
 "What! D'Hautville?" I queried. 
 
 "None other, and he made the best time over the 
 course of all the Frenchmen," continued my friend.
 
 238 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "By Jove!" I said, "matters are getting excit- 
 ing. I will give you two to one I beat him, though." 
 
 "You will never lift that pot if d'Hautville can 
 prevent you by fair means or foul," he said decid- 
 edly. 
 
 "I'll do my best, anyway," I replied. 
 
 "I should strongly advise you against the at- 
 tempt," he added. 
 
 "Oh, bosh !" I said. "I have come off best so far 
 in every encounter I have had with him, and am 
 quite ready to try another fall." 
 
 "All the more reason for not chancing another 
 meeting," replied Mervyn. "Indeed," he continued, 
 "speaking seriously, and in the light of what I have 
 been able to discover, I should think it is as much as 
 your liberty, or perhaps your life, is worth to show 
 your face in Paris at the present moment." 
 
 "Tell that to the marines," I replied confidently. 
 
 "I will tell the reason to you after dinner," he 
 said, laughing, "as I do not want to spoil your appe- 
 tite, though I have heard that the appetite of a mo- 
 torist is destroyed by nothing but food." 
 
 "I thought you could only be chaffing," I replied, 
 and fell to my meal with avidity. 
 
 But when, half an hour later, we were comforta- 
 bly ensconced in a corner of the smoking-room, with 
 our coffee and cigars before us, he remarked. "I was 
 not chaffing you just now, Hardinge, when I de- 
 clared that there is a considerable element of danger
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 239 
 
 attendant on your visiting Paris. You will soon see 
 that for yourself when I have told you my story." 
 
 "Fire away," I said resignedly. 
 
 He nodded. "I'll not weary you with all the steps 
 I have taken to obtain my information, but you may 
 rely upon its substantial accuracy. Some of it, of 
 course, I have picked up here and there, but some 
 of the. most important items come from a source 
 which is absolutely reliable." 
 
 "And that source ?" I asked with curiosity. 
 
 "You will learn in good time," he answered. 
 "First, then, I made some enquiries about the house 
 of the photographs. I found, as I anticipated, that 
 it had been taken by d'Hautville about a couple of 
 years ago, and that it had been occupied by a lady 
 whom I had no difficulty in identifying as the lady 
 who presented you with that ring, which I am still 
 surprised to see you wearing." 
 
 "You will not be surprised when you have heard 
 my story," I replied gaily, "but go on." 
 
 "Perhaps not. It would be difficult to surprise me 
 with the story of anything wherein she was con- 
 cerned," he said, with a shrug of the shoulders. 
 "Anyway, the woman who lived there was undoubt- 
 edly d'Hautville's mistress, and just as undoubtedly 
 she left the house suddenly on Christmas night, and 
 from that day forth has not been seen again. I have 
 made every endeavour to trace her, but without the 
 slightest success, so that if you are dependent upon
 
 240 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 her for proof of your whereabouts on that night, 
 unless you have obtained some knowledge of where 
 she has hidden herself, you are trusting to a very 
 slender chance." 
 
 I said nothing, reserving myself for the time 
 when I should be able to put all his theories to flight. 
 
 "Amongst other places where I sought for infor- 
 mation," he continued, "was the house on the Ouai 
 d'Auteuil. The very suite of apartments which you 
 visited was vacant, as it happened, and I took them 
 for awhile, and so managed to learn all that the con- 
 cierge knew. Those people will always chatter. Not 
 that there was much to learn. Lucille Clement had 
 taken the rooms, and save herself and one other no 
 one else was observed to enter them." 
 
 "And that one ?" I enquired eagerly. 
 
 "The concierge was able to give me a pretty ac- 
 curate description of his dress," said Mervyn drily. 
 "He was clad in a grey tweed overcoat and cap of 
 the same material, and on the day after Christmas 
 day he came to the house in a red motor-car." 
 
 "Why, there alone is sufficient evidence to exon- 
 erate me," I said. 
 
 "Wait a minute," replied Mervyn. "What sort 
 of clothes were you wearing in Paris when you were 
 motoring?" 
 
 "A heavy tweed coat and cap of the same colour, 
 it is true," I answered; "but what of it?" 
 
 "And your car was red ?" he asked.
 
 "Certainly," I replied, "but there can be no diffi- 
 culty in proving that the car was not mine." 
 
 "We shall see," said Mervyn. "On the day after 
 Christmas a man driving a red car called for Lu- 
 cille. She left with him and returned with him 
 again the same night. The car was taken charge of 
 by a chauffeur, who had accompanied the two, and 
 the owner remained behind. The following morn- 
 ing the concierge was surprised to find the door of 
 the flat open, and on entering she was horrified to 
 find the place in confusion and blood stains spattered 
 about. She immediately called in the police." 
 
 "I think that the fact that Lucille was seen at the 
 place the day after I had left is sufficient for me," I 
 remarked. "On that day I was crossing the Chan- 
 nel." 
 
 "With the woman who gave you that ring. A 
 woman whose word, even if you could venture to 
 call her as a witness, would not be believed by any 
 person in his senses." 
 
 A wave of anger surged up in my mind, but it 
 subsided as quickly as it had arisen. Mervyn did 
 not know all that I knew now. He was still labour- 
 ing under the impression that Lady Melode was 
 Lady Molly Temple, and he had reason for his bit- 
 terness. 
 
 "Don't be too hasty in your judgments, old fel- 
 low," I remarked. "I know that the lady who ac- 
 companied me was not the Miss Molly Temple you
 
 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 knew. Did you never hear that she had a sister 
 named Moira?" 
 
 "Moira? Little Morrie?" he questioned. "Little 
 Morrie is a child." 
 
 "In ten years a child may grow up," I said. "Lit- 
 tle Morrie, now better known to her friends as Lady 
 Melode Temple, is, I think, twenty-two years of 
 age." 
 
 "I had forgotten," he said, as he passed his hand 
 across his forehead. "I have always thought of 
 her" he referred to Molly and not to Moira "as 
 she was on the day when I last saw her. And it was 
 her sister whom you assisted?" 
 
 "I will tell you all I have learned," I said, "when 
 your story is finished." 
 
 He was silent for the space of a minute, and the 
 collection of his thoughts was an evident effort. "I 
 think I have told you all that I heard at the house 
 on the Quai. When that information was in my 
 possession, I sought out an old friend at the Em- 
 bassy and obtained through him an introduction to 
 a member of the detective force, the very one, in 
 fact, who had been charged with the elucidation of 
 the mystery. From him I learned that the news- 
 paper accounts of the evidence regarding the identity 
 of the man who met the girl at the Quatz' Arts was 
 substantially accurate. You know all about that, so 
 there is no need for me to go over the details again. 
 but it is quite obvious that the only reason why you
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 243 
 
 have not been arrested is because up to the present 
 no one has suggested that Air. Geoffrey Hardinge, 
 who was at the time staying at the Grand Hotel, 
 could be identified as the man \vho met Lucille 
 Clement." 
 
 "Still," I objected, "as the evidence of a man be- 
 ing seen with the girl the day after I had left Paris 
 is indisputable, and I can obtain plenty of evidence 
 that I was in Havre and Southampton on that day, 
 I have a perfect alibi." 
 
 "At the time you could have proved it without a 
 doubt," replied Mervyn. "But this occurred three 
 months or more ago. I saw the importance of your 
 being able to obtain the evidence you require. I be- 
 gan at the Grand. The night attendant who was 
 there at Christmas time has disappeared. I went to 
 Havre. In the hotel book there is no record of your 
 stay there, and, though the proprietor remembers 
 a gentleman arriving early one morning and leaving 
 a car with him, he cannot state definitely whether it 
 was on the 26th, 2/th, or 28th. Another point, he is 
 quite sure that the gentleman who left the car was 
 accompanied by his chauffeur. On this particular 
 your boatman is also assured and, further, he also is 
 as hazy as to the dates as the hotel proprietor." 
 
 "The Southampton people would know, at all 
 events," I said. 
 
 "The man at Southampton would be a country- 
 man of yours, and his evidence would be dis-
 
 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 counted," said Mervyn. "No, I am certain you are 
 in danger, for I fancy that some one has been on 
 your track already, suggesting dates, with the ex- 
 press object of making use later of the evidence thus 
 manufactured. Mind, I do not think that the evi- 
 dence against you is strong enough to get you con- 
 victed, but it is enough to cover you in a cloud of 
 suspicion from which you would never completely 
 emerge. So if you value your reputation, Hardinge, 
 I should advise you to keep clear of d'Hautville." 
 
 "When you have heard all I have to tell," I re- 
 plied, "you may come to another conclusion," and 
 with that I straightway told him all that I had 
 learned during his absence. 
 
 When I reached the conclusion, Mervyn re- 
 marked, "I can only wonder that the rascal has not 
 put the police on to you before." 
 
 "I am with you," I answered, "to a certain ex- 
 tent. I can explain his hesitation upon one supposi- 
 tion only." 
 
 "And that is - ?" asked Mervyn. 
 
 "That there is some evidence in existence con- 
 necting himself definitely with the crime, evidence 
 that he cannot make away with." 
 
 "Maybe you are right," he replied. 
 
 "Sure of it," I answered. "In any case, I am not 
 going to allow myself to be bluffed by all the d'Haut- 
 villes in the world. He is much more likely to make
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 245 
 
 some attempt to injure me if he sees that I shirk the 
 issue." 
 
 "That's good sense/' Mervyn agreed, and with his 
 commendation our conference ended that night with 
 a promise of renewal in the morning.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 
 
 THE renewal of my discussion with Mervyn led 
 to no change in my decision, but it did lead to the 
 proffering of a request from my friend which I had 
 never anticipated he would make. 
 
 He had questioned me very closely as to what had 
 become of Lady Molly, and had even blamed me for 
 not having discovered her residence when I had met 
 her at Covent Garden. I told him that it was not 
 my business, and that I should undoubtedly be made 
 acquainted with it in time from Lady Melode, 
 though I added that I was not sure whether I should 
 not be better pleased if I never heard of her again. 
 
 "I understand," said Mervyn. "If I were in your 
 position I have no doubt that I should feel exactly 
 
 as you do, but . Look here, old fellow, I want 
 
 you to do me a favour. I want you to find .out Mol- 
 ly's address for me." 
 
 I was astonished at the request, and said so. 
 "What in the world do you want it for?" I asked. 
 "It can be of no advantage to you. You cannot 
 think of seeing her again after the way she treated 
 you." 
 
 246
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 247 
 
 He looked at me strangely. Then he burst out: 
 "I do want to see her again, Hardinge. You must 
 help me." 
 
 ''But " I began. 
 
 He stopped me. "No, I Know everything you can 
 urge. The reasons why I should never see her again 
 are unanswerable. They are as present to me this 
 moment as they have been ever since the day when 
 I knew that I had been betrayed. And yet and yet 
 though every day of these long years I have told 
 myself that she is dead to me, yet I must see her 
 again. Let me put it to you how you might have 
 felt had Lady Melode " 
 
 "Impossible!" I cried. 
 
 "So I thought," he continued, sadly. "But I do 
 not want to discuss possibilities. All I know is that 
 I want to see Molly again, to have speech with her. 
 Why, I hardly know myself. It is simply an in- 
 stinctive desire which, since I have learned from 
 you that she is here in London, has overmastered 
 me." 
 
 His earnestness affected me to such an extent that 
 I promised him that I would do my best to bring 
 about the interview he desired, and it was with this 
 mission thrust upon me that I kept the luncheon en- 
 gagement which had been made when I parted from 
 Melode at Liverpool. 
 
 The opportunity came when, luncheon being over, 
 I suggested a little run out of town to tea. Both
 
 248 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Mrs. Duxworth and her daughter pleaded a prev- 
 ious engagement, and Lady Melode suggested in- 
 stead of the drive a stroll in the park, and inasmuch 
 as the latter would give much greater chance of a 
 talk, I was only too glad to fall in with the sug- 
 gestion. No sooner were we alone together than I 
 told Melode of Mervyn's request. 
 
 "It would be better that he should not see her," 
 she said, after consideration. 
 
 "Exactly what I told him," I replied. 
 
 "I think he will realise that himself when he 
 knows more of her present circumstances," she con- 
 tinued. "You must tell him exactly the position of 
 affairs, but to do so you must first be made acquaint- 
 ed with them yourself. I think, Geoffrey, it is quite 
 time that you heard the whole unhappy story." 
 
 "I shall be pleased, if you think so," I answered. 
 
 "It is not a story one likes to tell," she said quietly, 
 "but it is a story you must know, even if the result 
 was to be a complete severance between us in the 
 future." 
 
 "Nothing could bring that about," I said warmly. 
 
 "Wait until you have heard what I have to tell 
 you. You have not seen Molly, or perhaps you 
 would understand what I mean." 
 
 "You forget the meeting in the box at Covent 
 Garden," I said. 
 
 "No," she answered. "I have not forgotten.
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 249 
 
 There was more than one instance of mistaken iden- 
 tity at the ball that night." 
 
 "I give it up," I replied. 
 
 "It was myself, myself disguised as Molly, who 
 mistook you for d'Hautville that night." 
 
 I could only gasp in my bewilderment. 
 
 "You will understand the reason directly, but let 
 me tell you everything from the beginning. In the 
 first place all Mr. Mervyn has told you concerning 
 Molly's engagement to him is correct. She had made 
 d'Hautville's acquaintance during her first London 
 season. Our father was in India, and I was at school 
 at the time. Nobody knew much about d'Hautville, 
 and when people began to couple Molly's name with 
 his, her chaperone grew alarmed, and in order to 
 put an end to gossip arranged that she should join 
 our father in India, where she would be out of the 
 Count's way. The plan had the opposite effect. In 
 the autumn Molly sailed. D'Hautville was in Eng- 
 land at the time, and was seen about for several days 
 after she had sailed from London. Then he an- 
 nounced that he was returning to Paris. In reality 
 he joined the same boat at Brindisi under an as- 
 sumed name, and on the voyage no doubt managed 
 to complete the fascination he undoubtedly exercised 
 over her. Whether he remained in India all the time 
 my sister was there, I am not certain, but I think 
 so; and I think, too, his object from the first wac 
 to make use of her to obtain information for the
 
 250 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 government which employed him. I expect at first 
 he intended to try to obtain information which might 
 be in our father's possession, and later, when he 
 learned that Mr. Mervyn had fallen in love with 
 her, he saw a still better way of carrying out his 
 mission." 
 
 "It is almost incredible that an English lady " 
 
 I began. 
 
 "Still more incredible that an Irish girl could do 
 such a thing," said Melode, "except that well, I 
 don't know, but sometimes a woman would do any- 
 thing for a man who persuades her that he loves her, 
 and I am sure that at the time d'Hautville dominated 
 her actions completely. Poor Molly, she has paid 
 dearly for her folly. There seems to be no degrada- 
 tion d'Hautville has not inflicted upon her. When, 
 on landing at Brindisi on the return journey, she 
 asked him to fulfil his promise to marry her, he 
 laughed at her; and when, awakened at last to his 
 true character, she would have rejoined the boat, 
 he threatened to reveal to the British Government 
 the fact that she had obtained official secrets for a 
 Russian agent." 
 
 I muttered some appropriate expressions low 
 down in my throat, so that the comment must have 
 sounded more like the growl of an angry dog than 
 aught else. 
 
 "From that day forth her life must have been 
 one of complete misery. He has always kept the
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 251 
 
 same threat hanging over her head, and though she 
 grew to loathe the very sight of him, to hate the 
 sound of his voice, or even of his footstep, yet her 
 fear kept her in complete subservience to him." 
 
 "Those photographs?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "You will understand 
 later." 
 
 I growled again. 
 
 "I wonder that I ever managed to get her out of 
 his clutches," she continued. 
 
 "I wonder you ever took it into your head to make 
 the attempt," I interjected. 
 
 "She was my sister," said Melode simply, "and 
 I could not bear to think I knew nothing of the 
 story until two years ago. I knew that there had 
 been some trouble, but I was never told what it was 
 until my father's death. I do not think that he ever 
 recovered from the shock her action caused him, for 
 he never settled down afterwards. He was always 
 on the move from one quarter of the globe to an- 
 other, and I saw very little of him. I think he feared 
 lest he should grow fond of me he had been de- 
 voted to Molly and that I should falsify his trust 
 as she did. One consequence was that I was al- 
 lowed to do pretty much as I liked, and thus when 
 my father died I was in Paris at the time. I had 
 gone there with two old schoolfellows. They were 
 artists, and I was pretending to be one. Oh, yes, we 
 had a chaperone, dear old thing! She was never
 
 252 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 in the way, and the three of us were inseparable, so 
 that she was not really necessary. Well, I first heard 
 Molly's story from the solicitor who came over to 
 tell me of my father's death, for he thought it best 
 to explain to me how it was that I inherited all his 
 fortune. I heard, too, from him that so far as he 
 knew Molly was still alive. Do you know, Geoffrey, 
 that up to that time I had led a perfectly irrespon- 
 sible existence, but then my life changed completely. 
 Everybody wanted me to come back to England and 
 be presented, and all that sort of thing, but I re- 
 fused. I said that I was so interested in my art 
 work that I would not leave it, but in reality I had 
 determined to see whether I could not find out some- 
 thing as to Molly's fate, and I knew I should have 
 more freedom in Paris than in England. Besides, I 
 had heard d'Hautville's name mentioned, and that 
 was the only clue I had to work upon." 
 
 "It was hardly a girl's work," I could not help 
 remarking. 
 
 "I am sure no one else would have done anything 
 but persuade me from doing anything at all," said 
 Melode decisively, "and I did not want to be wor- 
 ried with even the best meant advice on the sub- 
 ject. So I stayed in Paris, and I soon learned that 
 d'Hautville was of some importance in the motor- 
 ing world. Clearly, therefore, if I was to learn any- 
 thing about him my best plan was to become an auto- 
 mobilist myself."
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 253 
 
 "You went to work pretty thoroughly," I re- 
 marked. 
 
 "I could not very well go about asking strangers 
 questions about him," she said. "Anyhow, my plan 
 was successful. On the occasion of my very first 
 lesson in the Bois he was pointed out to me, and by 
 the time I had gained sufficient confidence in my 
 car to drive alone, I had seen him sufficiently often 
 to recognise him or any of his cars. After that it 
 was easy for me to discover where he lived, though 
 not for a long, long while could I ascertain whether 
 my sister was still alive. She never left the house, 
 and it was only by careful enquiry that I learned 
 that there was" she hesitated a little, and her voice 
 was low-toned and sorrowful as she continued 
 "that there was a mad Englishwoman living at the 
 Comte d'Hautville's residence." 
 
 "Mad ?" I asked. The information stunned me. 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "That is why I bade you 
 wait, Geoffrey, before you asked me to marry you. 
 Who knows that there is not some mental instabil- 
 ity in all of us, though so far as I can learn it has 
 never before made itself manifest in our family." 
 
 "There's pretty little mental instability about 
 you," I answered bluntly, "and if that is the only 
 reason why you have stood out against the announce- 
 ment of our engagement, I think I shall take upon 
 myself the responsibility of telling everybody from 
 to-day."
 
 254 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Then you are not afraid? All my actions must 
 have seemed so extraordinary that I wonder you 
 did not think I was mad from the moment we first 
 met." 
 
 "If we are to be judged by our actions, I think 
 I must be considered the madder of the two," I an- 
 swered. "But so far as your sister is concerned, it 
 seems pretty clear to me that shame, remorse, and 
 heaven knows what ill-treatment, may not have 
 broken down her mental balance. Is she very 
 bad?" I asked, lamely. 
 
 "I doubt if she will ever completely recover," said 
 Melode sadly. "She is not dangerous. She has only 
 a complete aversion to seeing people, now coupled 
 with one fixed delusion. But of that you shall learn 
 for yourself. Possibly you are right as to the rea- 
 sons which brought about her condition, for at first 
 she was in absolute terror of d'Hautville, and he 
 must have behaved abominably in order to have in- 
 duced so much fear in her. But to return to him. 
 When I had satisfied myself that Molly was alive, 
 chance led to my meeting d'Hautville himself. It 
 was at a friend's house, but the details are of no 
 importance. You may have gathered that he is just 
 about as vain as he is needy." 
 
 "I guessed at the vanity," I replied, "but on the 
 other point I have not troubled to enquire." 
 
 "He was undeniably startled when he saw me, 
 and he hastened to get an introduction, probably to
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 55 
 
 discover whether I knew anything of my sister's 
 story. My attitude apparently satisfied him that I 
 was ignorant of the whole affair, and learning, in 
 all probability, that I had a desirable dot, he possibly 
 imagined that he would be able to fascinate one sis* 
 ter as completely as he had the other." 
 
 Again I could only give inarticulate expression to 
 the rage eating at my heart. 
 
 "Listen quietly, please," said Melode, and she laid 
 her hand on my arm. "D'Hautville can play the 
 part of a very polished gentleman when he pleases, 
 and he did his best to produce a good impression 
 upon me. I did not discourage him, for though this 
 was a complication I had not foreseen, I thought it 
 would be advantageous to know something of his 
 movements. Well, no sooner had he made my ac- 
 quaintance than I learned that he had furnished that 
 little house on the borders of Fontainebleau and 
 installed Molly there, with only one servant to take 
 charge of her. Evidently his object had been to re- 
 move any possibility of my meeting her. But his 
 action in reality made matters easier for me. The 
 servant hated the loneliness of the place, and I found 
 it easy to bribe her. Things were going on swim- 
 mingly when my hand was forced. D'Hautville 
 thought the time had come to make me a proposal 
 of marriage. I was so angered that I could no long- 
 er hide my real feelings, though I was wise enough 
 to assume ignorance of Molly's whereabouts, and to
 
 256 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 demand from him that I should be informed where 
 she was to be found." 
 
 "And yet he has dared to face you again?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Dared?" she replied. "He laughed in my face 
 at my denunciation. He told me that I was a fool- 
 ish child, and that it would not be very long before 
 I should be thankful if he renewed his offer." 
 
 "If I had only known that when I dipped him in 
 the river at Marlow," I declared, "his head would 
 never have come above the water while there was 
 breath left in his body." Indeed, I felt murder- 
 ously. 
 
 "I am glad you did not know for your own sake," 
 said Melode. "I felt merely anger at the time, but 
 a few days later, when he sent me a collection of 
 photographs I began to be afraid. He had recog- 
 nised the remarkable likeness between myself and 
 the Molly of ten years previous, and he sent them 
 to me and asked whether I should prefer to have 
 them published in one of the Parisian papers or cop- 
 ies sent to my friends in England." 
 
 "If ever I meet that scoundrel again " I be- 
 gan, for my anger was now at white heat. 
 
 "Hush!" said Melode, and looking away from 
 her I observed that one or two strangers were eye- 
 ing us curiously. 
 
 "All right," I said, "I'll keep a curb on my tongue, 
 though it is a hard task."
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 257 
 
 "It was no less hard a task for me to submit to 
 such insult," she answered, "but I had to do so. I 
 had to rescue Molly. 1 had to prevent, if possible, 
 the annoyance which he had threatened me with ; so 
 I temporised. I came to England in order to pro- 
 vide for Molly's reception, and while over here I 
 wrote to him begging him to do nothing until he 
 heard from me again. He replied that the photo- 
 graphs and negatives should be his wedding present 
 to me. Meanwhile I was in constant communica- 
 tion with Molly's attendant, and from one of her 
 letters I learned that the photographs were in the 
 same house as my sister. Then, when everything 
 was arranged, I returned to Paris. I had determined 
 that nothing should interfere with the success of 
 my plan, and at the hour I had arranged to be at 
 the house near Fontainebleau, I had invited d'Haut- 
 ville to meet me at a rendezvous in Paris. You know 
 the result of my venture, but you do not know, per- 
 haps, that the box Molly brought with her contained, 
 as I then thought, the whole of the negatives of the 
 photographs which you saw later at the same place." 
 
 "Why did you not destroy them at the same 
 time ?" I asked. 
 
 "We were so pressed for time, and the door of 
 the room was locked," she answered. "I had an 
 impression that somebody was playing me false, and 
 that was the reason why I asked your assistance 
 earlier in the day. It has seemed clear to me since
 
 that by some means d'Hautville must have got into 
 communication with my maid Lucille, and that she 
 must have learned enough to have given him an 
 inkling of my plans, though I never told her any- 
 thing of them." 
 
 "There's one thing puzzles me," I said, as Melode 
 paused in her narrative. "Having succeeded in your 
 object, why did you not return at once to England?" 
 
 Lady Melode blushed. "Vanity," she replied. "I 
 had won, as I thought, and I wanted to show 
 d'Hautville that he had been outwitted by a woman. 
 I did not give him credit for his ingenuity. I wanted 
 to triumph over him, and I wanted also to obtain the 
 return of the letters I had written to him ; so when 
 I had seen Molly, who you will recall, escaped with 
 me from the chateau with the box of negatives, in 
 my motor, the day you first met me, safely off by 
 train, I returned to the flat at the Quai d'Auteuil, 
 which my maid Lucille, whom I had sent to Paris 
 ahead of me, had taken for the purpose of the inter- 
 view, and sent her with a message to him to tell him 
 where he might find me. Then came his counter- 
 plot with Lucille to bring you on the scene, though 
 I cannot understand how he can have brought that 
 about. Still less can I conceive his object, unless 
 he wanted to discover the extent of our acquain- 
 tance, and presuming we were not strangers, had al- 
 ready devised Lucille's murder, with the express 
 object of bringing the charge of murder against
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 259 
 
 yourself. But I cannot bring myself to believe 
 that." 
 
 "No," I agreed. "He could not have foreseen 
 that he would have been left alone with her in the 
 apartments. He probably reckoned that, not expect- 
 ing my visit, you would have been angry at my pre- 
 senting myself so unceremoniously, and that when 
 I had departed he would have had an additional 
 threat to use in urging you to comply with his 
 wishes. Anyhow, I can only thank heaven that his 
 counterplot succeeded in bringing me to the place. 
 I don't like to think what might have happened had 
 you been alone in the place with d'Hautville and 
 Lucille." 
 
 "I had not thought of any danger to myself, and" 
 she blushed "I do not think d'Hautville would 
 have ventured on violence with me." 
 
 "Still I am glad I was there," I repeated. 
 
 "So am I," sheTeplied softly, "if it was only for 
 the purpose of learning that there are some situa- 
 tions with which a man can deal infinitely better 
 than any woman." 
 
 For reply I squeezed the little hand nestling in 
 mine. 
 
 "I thought when we were safely out of France 
 that the matter was all over and done with, and 
 then, learning that my cousin knew you, I persuaded 
 him to ask you down for a week-end to auntie's 
 house. It was at that very moment d'Hautville
 
 260 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 chose to reappear. It was his car that passed ours 
 on the return from Oxford. It was his chauffeur 
 who brought me a note when you were inside the 
 inn obtaining the water for the cooling apparatus. 
 In that note he threatened that unless I saw him 
 that same evening your life would not be worth a 
 minute's purchase." 
 
 "Then it was for my sake that you met him by 
 the river?" I asked. 
 
 "It was little I could do, and you had been so good 
 to me," she answered. "Now you can understand 
 better why I impersonated Lady Molly at Covent 
 Garden on the night of the masque ball," she con- 
 tinued. "It seems that d'Hautville, learning in some 
 way the whereabouts of my sister's retreat, had writ- 
 ten to her, pleading for a rendezvous there. He ex- 
 pected, no doubt, again to make himself her master, 
 and to use her suffering and disgrace as before for 
 an additional weapon with which to bend my will 
 to his. This letter came into my hands; and the 
 same impulse to witness his chagrin at being out- 
 witted by me which had led me to meet him in that 
 lonely apartment by the Quai d'Auteuil, as well as 
 the hope that I might find a means to secure the lost 
 negative, impelled me to risk another interview. My 
 plan was rendered less difficult because of the im- 
 plicit directions given her in the letter as to costume, 
 time, and exact place for the meeting, as well as a
 
 MY LADY MELODE'S STORY 261 
 
 warning not to remove her masque." Then she 
 changed the subject suddenly. 
 
 "You must decide whether Mr. Mervyn should 
 see Molly. I do not think she would recognise him, 
 though it is quite possible that if she were to do so 
 the shock might assist in restoring her reason." 
 
 "I will think it over," I said, and for the rest of 
 the afternoon our conversation was not such as is 
 likely to prove interesting to any one but our two 
 selves.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE RECKONING WITH M. LE COMTE D'HAUTVILLE 
 
 WITHIN twenty-four hours of the conversation 
 between myself and Lady Melode which I have 
 chronicled in the preceding chapter, the two of us 
 were on our way to visit the most unfortunate of 
 all the victims of d'Hautville's machinations. There 
 was a third person accompanying us. Being unable 
 to decide for myself as to whether Mervyn should 
 see her or not, I had left the decision to my friend, 
 and he had settled the question in the affirmative. 
 Consequently he accompanied Melode and me to the 
 retreat in Surrey where his old love was living, un- 
 der the kindly care of a doctor and his wife. 
 
 I shall never forget that day so long as I live, so 
 charged was it with emotion. In the first place, 
 there was the meeting between Mervyn and Melode. 
 Mervyn had accompanied me to Claridge's, and we 
 were waiting in Mrs. Duxworth's sitting-room when 
 Melode entered. I sprang forward to greet her, but 
 was checked by her glance and the words, "Your 
 friend!" 
 
 I turned to look at Mervyn. His face was ghastly 
 262
 
 THE RECKONING 263 
 
 in its pallor, while his fingers moved convulsively as 
 he tore at the collar of his coat. "What's the mat- 
 ter?" I cried, as I caught him by the arm. 
 
 His lips were dry, but I guessed at his thoughts, 
 for I could see rather than hear that he was striving 
 to articulate the name Molly. "No," I said, and tak- 
 ing him by both elbows I shook him violently. "This 
 is Melode. Don't you understand? This is Melode." 
 
 "Melode?" he said slowly. "Melode?" He looked 
 at me and again at her, and gradually the colour 
 came back to his lips, and he dropped into a chair. 
 
 We were all silent for a while, and then he apolo- 
 gised. "I could not help myself," he said. "There 
 is so wonderful a likeness.' It was a ten years' mem- 
 ory suddenly incarnate. You must forgive me, Lady 
 Melode." 
 
 "I fear you will find Molly vastly changed from 
 the memory you have preserved so faithfully," she 
 said sadly. "Are you quite sure that you had better 
 see her?" 
 
 "More certain than ever," he answered. 
 
 There was nothing more to be said, and we set 
 off together. We went by car, and the whole of the 
 time Mervyn's eyes scarcely wandered once from 
 my companion ; and though he said little, I could see 
 his brain was active. No one who had only been 
 acquainted with him in the club would have imag- 
 ined that such a volcano of emotion was dormant 
 beneath the quiet exterior of the cynical clubman.
 
 264 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Then there was the meeting with Molly. I do 
 not know what Mervyn expected, but I was prepared 
 to be shocked. Like most people, I suppose I asso- 
 ciated the thought of madness with' the gibberings 
 and mouthings and extravagant gestures of mania. 
 But there was nothing of the maniac about Lady 
 Molly. She shrank into the room where we waited 
 her arrival in a vain endeavour to hide herself be- 
 hind her attendant. A woman frail as a shadow, 
 prematurely old and grey, with fear in her eyes, fear 
 about the tremulous mouth, fear in every gesture. 
 She looked, acted like a shadow a shadow of my 
 own darling, who stood beside her, brimming over 
 with life and health. Yes, despite the vast differ- 
 ence, the wonderful likeness which had left Mervyn 
 bereft of speech was still visible. Truly her fault 
 must have been atoned a thousand times before suf- 
 fering had brought her to such a pass. I could only 
 wonder what was the nature of the cruelty which 
 had left fear impressed so deeply on her features 
 and whole personality. I was soon to learn. Her 
 very first words revealed the secret. 
 
 "I am glad to see you so glad. I don't see many 
 friends, you know. Ivan and I Ivan and I are 
 such happy people. You know what he is, but I'll 
 let you into a secret he has never seen anyone so 
 beautiful as I am. The Goddess of Love, you know. 
 A man has no eyes for mere mortals when he wor- 
 ships Venus herself. And hush! I am Venus,
 
 THE RECKONING 265 
 
 you know, though I am obliged to disguise myself. 
 If you would like to see " 
 
 With a word Melode checked her as she began 
 to throw off a shawl which was on her shoulders. 
 
 "No, it doesn't matter. Ivan will show you the 
 pictures. But no no no! You are strangers! 
 Ivan shall not show them to you ! I cannot no, not 
 again, Ivan! You shall not photograph me again! 
 You said no eye but your own should rest on them ! 
 I but yes, I am Venus you shall not send me back 
 to England ! Anything rather than that ! But where 
 is Ivan? I think I am forgetting. He will be here 
 directly." 
 
 She came to me and laid a hand on my arm. 
 "Hush!" she said. "When he asks you to see his 
 photographs, say that you have done so. He prom- 
 ised me that no one but himself should ever do so." 
 
 "I'll promise," I answered. 
 
 She went to Mervyn. "You will promise, too?" 
 All the time she had been glancing at the door, as if 
 she feared that some one else would enter ; but at this 
 moment she raised her eyes to Mervyn's face. They 
 rested there, and she passed her hand across her fore- 
 head. "I have seen you .before," she said. "You 
 were kind to me, but I have a bad memory for faces. 
 You will forgive me I didn't catch your name." 
 
 Mervyn's face was nearly as white as it had been 
 in the sitting-room at Claridge's, but he pulled him-
 
 266 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 self together, and in a low voice he asked : "Shall 
 I tell her?" 
 
 Melode nodded. 
 
 "Mervyn," he said. "Meredith Mervyn, Lady 
 Molly." 
 
 His voice, husky though it was probably the 
 name itself struck an answering chord in her dis- 
 traught brain. "Yes," she said. "You were very 
 good to me. I am sure you would not like to see 
 the photographs." 
 
 "No," said Mervyn. 
 
 "I was sure you would say that. But it is very 
 stupid of me I cannot remember where we met be- 
 fore. Perhaps I shall remember presently. You do 
 forgive me, don't you?" 
 
 "God knows I do !" replied Mervyn, and his words 
 meant, as two of us there present knew, far more 
 than the others could have had any idea of. The 
 tension was becoming unbearable, and Melode saw 
 that we could not stand the strain much longer, for 
 she gave a word to the attendant and she and her 
 patient disappeared. 
 
 "It is always like that with strangers," she said, 
 when Lady Molly was gone. "Until she gets to 
 know them. Then she might be almost rational, 
 except that she has very little memory for anything. 
 Now will you wait here or in the garden while I go 
 and spend a little more time with her ?" 
 
 We chose the garden, and for an hour we paced
 
 THE RECKONING 267 
 
 the walk in silence, each of us busy with his own 
 thoughts. 
 
 There can be no question that we were both ani- 
 mated by one idea, for when the summons came to 
 bid us rejoin Lady Melode, Mervyn said to me : "I 
 shall start for Paris to-morrow." 
 
 "It is my turn now," I answered eagerly, knowing 
 what must have been in his mind. 
 
 "No, Hardinge," he said, "this is my affair. You 
 have Lady Melode to think of. I have no one in 
 the world to trouble about me. You must leave me 
 to write the word 'settled' to this long outstanding 
 account. If I fail, then I shall depend upon you to 
 take up the settlement." 
 
 "We will talk it over," I replied, and with that 
 we went indoors again. 
 
 We did not mention the matter again until we 
 were alone together, late in the evening. Lady Mel- 
 ode and the Duxworths were dining with me, and 
 we went on to the theatre afterwards, so that it was 
 not until I dropped in, quite late, at the club that I 
 could have the matter out with Mervyn. We could 
 not come to an agreement even then. He was keen 
 on his right to exact vengeance. I was equally keen 
 on my right to mete out retribution for the wrong 
 which had been done the unfortunate woman who 
 was soon to become my sister-in-law, for at last Mel- 
 ode had said yes to my persuasions. 
 
 Immediately upon our return I had begged for
 
 268 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 her answer, for I had realised that she had only put 
 me off hitherto until I should have been able to judge 
 for myself from my own experience the unfortunate 
 fate which had fallen upon her sister. And when I 
 strove to explain that all I had learnt had only deep- 
 ened my admiration and my love well, I am not 
 going to set down in ink the sweet words that fell 
 from her lips. Some things even a vain man does 
 not write. 
 
 But that is merely by the way, though it serves 
 to explain why I insisted so energetically on my 
 claim to have first call on d'Hautville for satisfac- 
 tion. For a long while Mervyn would not budge 
 from his determination, but at last he did seem to 
 give way, and he asked me what measures I contem- 
 plated taking. I had considered no means. 
 
 "It is not a difficult matter to pick a quarrel with 
 a man," I said, "and quarrelling with discretion in 
 France can only lead to one termination." 
 
 "The sort of termination that I experienced," said 
 my friend, sarcastically. 
 
 "That is as fate directs," I answered. "But I. be- 
 lieve in my luck where d'Hautville is concerned." 
 
 "Have your own way," he answered. "I do not 
 think that he will manage to escape the two of us." 
 
 The matter was not mentioned between us again. 
 For one reason, my time was so fully occupied that 
 I did not see Mervyn again while I was in England. 
 I had no time for the club, and I had my plans to
 
 THE RECKONING 269 
 
 make, in the event in what I had determined should 
 be our final encounter, d'Hautville should score the 
 last trick and win the rubber. Not that I antici- 
 pated any such result. I felt perfectly confident that 
 the luck would remain with me. 
 
 As the few days for remaining in town which were 
 at my disposal passed, however, I began to see that 
 my own confidence was not completely shared by 
 Melode. She did not, as before the trials, make any 
 suggestion that I should withdraw from the race for 
 the cup, but from her perpetual adjurations to me 
 to be on my guard, and to take no extra risks, I 
 could see that she was more than a little anxious as 
 to the outcome of my visit, even though she was 
 entirely ignorant of the purpose I had in view. Still 
 she strove to hide her fears from me, and it was 
 with a smiling face that she bade me farewell at 
 Charing Cross and gave me a last wish for my suc- 
 cess. 
 
 "I'll bring back the cup as my wedding gift for 
 you," I said, "and you shall drink from it a draught 
 that shall make you forget all the troubles of the 
 past." 
 
 "I don't want to forget," she said, "for through 
 them I have found you. But I do want to be free 
 from a renewal of them in the future." 
 
 "I will see if I cannot bring a sufficient assurance 
 back with me," I answered. Then there was only 
 time for a final "good-bye" before the train started.
 
 270 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 I stayed the night in Paris, and the next morn- 
 ing I went on direct to Royat. I had left myself 
 about ten days for practice over the course, ample 
 time, as I thought, since I was already fairly well 
 acquainted with it ; but the weather, which had been 
 fine and bright for weeks past, suddenly changed, 
 and, much to my disgust, motoring became merely 
 another name for a new form of mudlarking. For 
 five days the rain fell. The roads, churned up by 
 the wheels of the fifteen practising racers, and as- 
 sisted by any number of touring cars, got into a de- 
 plorable condition. Under such conditions, tempers 
 became short, and the looks of the majority of the 
 people one met were as black as the skies. Cars 
 which had been running with perfect smoothness 
 hitherto, developed all sorts of defects, and the man 
 who took his car out and brought it back without 
 having at once to refit some part or another, was 
 looked upon as a peculiarly lucky mortal. In this 
 respect I was one of the favoured ones. Though I 
 had my troubles and the heavy roads developed one 
 or two hitherto unsuspected weaknesses yet these 
 were of a trivial description, and in no one instance 
 was any material portion of the machinery proven 
 to be defective. Principally this was due to the ad- 
 mirable construction of the car, but still a great deal 
 of credit must also be given to Coles, who was inde- 
 fatigable in the attention he paid to his charge. Only 
 for meals could he be persuaded to trust the car out
 
 THE RECKONING 271 
 
 of his sight, and he had even arranged, as I found 
 out on the night of my arrival, to sleep in the garage. 
 When I remonstrated with him for taking my in- 
 junction to see that the car was not tampered with' 
 so literally, he replied : "Best to take no risks, sir, 
 with all these foreigners about. If any of them 
 knew that we were bound to win they would not 
 think twice about loosening a nut somewhere or 
 dropping a bit of steel into one of the gearings." 
 
 I laughed at him, but he insisted upon pleasing 
 himself as to his sleeping place. On the fifth day 
 after my arrival at Royat the weather cleared again, 
 and, holding fine on the sixth and seventh, under the 
 influence of a steady breeze and bright sun, the roads 
 dried, except in one or two sheltered spots. 
 
 On the seventh day I made a trial spin under ex- 
 cellent conditions, and I returned to my hotel thor- 
 oughly well pleased with everything. My chances 
 were promising, the weather seemed settled finally, 
 and that morning I had received a delightful letter 
 from Melode. 
 
 It was at that moment, for the first time since I 
 had been at Royat, I came face to face with d'Haut- 
 ville. How I had escaped meeting him before I 
 do not know. He, with most of the other com- 
 petitors, had been on the ground before I had ar- 
 rived, and though I had met all the others I had 
 missed him. I had, in fact, decided that the avoid- 
 ance had been intentional on his part, for I had not
 
 272 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 even troubled to make an enquiry about him, being 
 quite content to wait until after the race to force 
 the meeting I desired. But if such avoidance had 
 been intentional, it was soon made obvious to me 
 that it was not due to any desire on d'Hautville's 
 part to shirk the issue. 
 
 I was walking into the salon of my hotel as he 
 was emerging in company with one of the other 
 French representatives and two of the Italian com- 
 petitors. I knew the three of them, and I stopped 
 to speak to them. In the most natural manner in 
 the world the Frenchman made d'Hautville known 
 to me, evidently concluding that as I had not in- 
 cluded him in my greeting that we were unac- 
 quainted. 
 
 "I already know M. le Comte," I explained. "I 
 do not desire to improve my acquaintance." 
 
 D'Hautville heard me, and his face flushed very 
 slightly, for I had spoken with some emphasis. He 
 shrugged his shoulders as he remarked : "M. Har- 
 dinge has, I believe, a cause for quarrel with me?" 
 
 "Merely the quarrel which any honest man has 
 with an ordinary liar, bully, and thief!" I replied, 
 suavely, feeling exceedingly pleased with myself that 
 there were several witnesses. 
 
 There was no doubt about the flush on d'Haut- 
 ville's face by this time, and he made a half step 
 towards me. Again a ready retort came to my lips. 
 "Pray consider, m'sieu. You know that I can hit
 
 THE RECKONING 273 
 
 hard, and I should be sorry to spoil your physical 
 charms before the day of the race." 
 
 "You will answer for this insult, m'sieu," he said. 
 
 "When and where you please," I said, "though 
 I hope you will not keep me waiting much longer. 
 I had thought that the thrashing I gave you on 
 Christmas night had entirely passed from your mem- 
 ory." 
 
 His face was by this time livid with rage. "Let it 
 be now!" he screamed. He turned to his compan- 
 ion. "You will do me the honour?" 
 
 But all the three men who had been with him, and 
 half a dozen others who had gathered about us, in- 
 terposed, and there was a babel of tongues arguing 
 that it was impossible for any of the candidates in 
 the race to fight before the race was decided. I stood 
 and listened, with my hands in my pockets. I did 
 not care much which way the matter was decided; 
 and when, between them, they had come to the con- 
 clusion that the race was to take precedence over pri- 
 vate animosities, I accepted the decision philosoph- 
 ically, perhaps the more because I knew how strong 
 were my chances of winning, and I overheard 
 d'Hautville remark : "It is good. First I will beat 
 him in the race, and then I will put an end to his 
 chagrin." 
 
 I did not think overmuch of the matter, though 
 I told Coles of the encounter, with the remark : "You 
 see, if we pull off the race I shall start a strong fav-
 
 274 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 ourite for the double event." I laugh to myself now 
 when I remember his expression as I concluded. I 
 fancy he thought that excitement had turned my 
 brain. 
 
 I slept well that night, and was out as usual the 
 next morning. But this morning the post failed 
 me. There was no letter from Melode. When I 
 returned to dejeuner there was still no letter. I be- 
 gan to feel anxious. Then came a telegram, and I 
 tore open the envelope feverishly to read : "Meet 
 me Gare de Lyons to-night. Melode."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 BEFORE THE JUGE ^INSTRUCTION 
 
 THE train steamed into the Gare de Lyons, and 
 catching up my coat and bag I sprang out on to. the 
 platform and hastened towards the barrier. But be- 
 fore I reached it my heart sank. There were only 
 half a dozen people gathered to meet the train, and 
 Melode was not amongst them. A premonition of 
 evil assailed me. What if the telegram were a for- 
 gery, a trick to draw me to Paris, on the part of 
 d'Hautville? If I had only thought over the matter 
 before starting on the journey, I might have sus- 
 pected some such move. But I had not had time 
 for consideration. The last train of the day from 
 Clermont-Ferrand had left so soon after the arrival 
 of the wire that only by making use of the car which 
 had been waiting to take me for another run round 
 the course had I been able to catch it. Besides, I had 
 been so delighted at the belief that after all Melode 
 had decided to come over for the race, that I had not 
 given a thought to any other possibility. 
 
 I moderated my pace, and, passing the barrier, 
 placed my bag on the ground and looked round me. 
 
 275
 
 276 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Melode might have been detained on her way to 
 the station, and, as I had no plans, I might as well 
 wait there as anywhere. Then a quietly dressed man 
 who had been waiting outside the barrier came up 
 to me, and, raising his hat, enquired politely, in 
 perfectly good English, "Mr. Geoffrey Hardinge, 
 I believe?" 
 
 "That is my name," I said. 
 
 "Then I must trouble you to come with me, if 
 you please." 
 
 "Come with you? What in the world for?" I 
 asked, my suspicions at once becoming lively. 
 
 "M. le Juge dTnstruction is desirous of some lit- 
 tle conversation with you, m'sieu," was the imper- 
 turbable reply, and he produced the card for my in- 
 spection, which revealed him to be a member of the 
 detective police. 
 
 I shrank from him instinctively. In spite of my 
 earlier fears, in spite of d'Hautville's threats, in spite 
 of Mervyn's warnings, I had persuaded myself that 
 there was no danger to myself likely to accrue in 
 connection with the death of Lucille Clement, and 
 now, when I least expected it, the blow had fallen. 
 Unfortunately, I had no time for deliberation as 
 to the best course to pursue, and I was completely 
 at a loss. 
 
 "I should be pleased to oblige M. le Juge," I re- 
 plied, "but unfortunately I have a previous engage- 
 ment. I am expecting a lady to meet me here."
 
 BEFORE JUGE DESTRUCTION 277 
 
 "Alas!" replied the detective, "I fear that madame 
 will be disappointed. M. le Juge is of a peremptory 
 disposition." 
 
 "At least you will permit me to wait for a few 
 minutes so that I may explain where I am going," 
 I said. 
 
 "It is, I fear, impossible," he replied, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders. "Much as I should like to oblige 
 m'sieu, it is not within my power." 
 
 "But " I began. 
 
 "I have a fiacre in waiting," he continued, and 
 as I still hesitated, he added : "Besides, who knows 
 whether the lady m'sieu wishes to meet may not 
 have preceded m'sieu ?" 
 
 I felt horribly uncomfortable at the suggestion. 
 It would never do for Lady Melode's name to be 
 mixed up with this affair. In a moment I was as 
 eager to depart before she could arrive at the sta- 
 tion as I had previously been anxious to remain. 
 
 "Very well," I remarked resignedly. "I accom- 
 pany you, m'sieu." 
 
 The man turned briskly on his heel towards the 
 exit from the station, and I, observing that another 
 man who had been dawdling near, had turned to 
 follow us, walked by his side. Clearly I had done 
 well by not refusing to obey the request of the de- 
 tective. 
 
 We got into the fiacre, and the man who had fol- 
 lowed mounted the box beside the driver, and away
 
 278 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 r ^Bom^BB__^_>uc__n___m<m_Kmi=B^_^^^K_^B^Km^^^^_ 
 
 we drove. We had not far to go. Ten minutes, 
 at the outside, was sufficient time to enable us to 
 reach a building which I recognised as a police pre- 
 fecture, and, the vehicle pulling up, we dismounted 
 and entered. My companion had been chattering to 
 me all the \vay, but I had merely answered in mono- 
 syllables. I was striving to decide upon the best 
 attitude to adopt in order to explain why I had not 
 at the first possible moment given information re- 
 garding the crime I knew to have been committed. 
 But I could think of no likely excuse, and I could 
 only curse my own folly as I followed the detective 
 into the prefecture and along a passage into a lit- 
 tle room at the end. There I was accommodated 
 with a chair, and my companion took up a position 
 near the door and became silent. I glanced round 
 the room idly. It was an ordinary little office, with 
 a table and three or four chairs, an ante-room to 
 the examining magistrate's apartment, I judged, 
 for every now and again I heard a voice in a room 
 beyond. 
 
 I had not to wait long before I discovered my 
 surmise to be correct. The interior door opened 
 and a police warder emerged, and, beckoning to me, 
 held open the door, and, as I entered the further 
 room, closed it behind me without a word. 
 
 I found myself in a comfortable, well-lighted 
 room occupied by a man seated at a desk. As I 
 entered he raised his eyes from the papers before
 
 BEFORE JUGE ^INSTRUCTION 279 
 
 him and glanced at me; then rising from his seat, 
 he made me a polite bow, and remarked : "M. 
 Geoffrey Hardinge, is it not, whom I have the pleas- 
 ure to receive in my office?" 
 
 His courtesy would have been sufficient under or- 
 dinary circumstances to assure me that he was not 
 harbouring the slightest idea that I was under the 
 imputation of a criminal charge, but I knew enough 
 of the methods of French criminal procedure to be 
 assured that I could draw no such deduction from 
 his manner. 
 
 "I am Mr. Geoffrey Hardinge, a British subject," 
 I replied, a trifle stiffly, "and as such demand to 
 know the reason for this strange summons." 
 
 The Juge d'Instruction left his place at the table 
 and, walking to the fireplace, planted himself be- 
 fore it, and for a minute regarded me in silence. 
 His scrutiny annoyed me, and I said, irritably : 
 
 "Come, m'sieu, I have a right to an answer to 
 my question. I presume you did not bring me here 
 merely to look at me." 
 
 The judge took no notice of my impatience. He 
 raised his hand, and pointing at me with his index 
 finger, he said : "M. Hardinge, on the night of the 
 25th of December last you met a girl called Lucille 
 Clement at the Cafe du Quatz' Arts?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered. 
 
 "You acknowledge it ?" he asked.
 
 280 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 "Certainly," I replied. "There is no reason why 
 I should not do so." 
 
 "Perhaps, then, you will not object to tell me 
 whither you accompanied her?" 
 
 "I have no objection whatever," I answered 
 promptly. "I accompanied her to a house on the 
 Quai d'Auteuil." 
 
 "With what object, m'sieu?" 
 
 "I prefer not to state the object," I answered. 
 
 "But why, m'sieu?" he asked. "We are alone. 
 You may confide in me. You may rely on my dis- 
 cretion." 
 
 "The object was one which does not concern 
 myself alone," I said. "I have no option in the 
 matter." 
 
 "Perhaps you will consider the matter later," he 
 continued. "Meanwhile, am I correct in assuming 
 that on December the 3Oth you met the girl Clement 
 again ?" 
 
 "No," I replied, wonderingly. 
 
 "Think, m'sieu," he said. "It was not an ordi- 
 nary meeting; far otherwise. Was it not on the 
 3Oth that you met the girl in the Morgue?" 
 
 "I misunderstood you, m'sieu," I replied. "It 
 is true that on the 3Oth, upon visiting the Morgue, 
 I recognised the body of the girl whom I only knew 
 as Lucille lying there." 
 
 "And why, may I ask, m'sieu," said my inter- 
 rogator, "did you not at once make known your rec-
 
 BEFORE JUGE DESTRUCTION 281 
 
 ognition of the girl to the authorities? Will you 
 explain why, when you gazed upon her dead face, 
 that your emotion was so great that you had to cling 
 for support to the rail, that you staggered from the 
 spot, and within the next two days had fled from 
 Paris?" Coldly and dispassionately he threw the 
 questions at me, and with an accusing finger pointed 
 at me he waited for my reply. 
 
 And I had no reply to make save one. I shrugged 
 my shoulders. "Because I was a fool, m'sieu," I 
 replied. 
 
 I fancied I saw a gleam of amusement in his face 
 as he replied quickly : "Such frankness is charm- 
 ing, but might I be permitted to remark that it is 
 so rare that one is inclined to doubt the ingenuous- 
 ness of such a plea." 
 
 I saw my difficulty, and determined at once to 
 make a clean breast of the whole matter. "If you 
 have time to listen to a lengthy narrative, m'sieu,", 
 I said, "you will better be able to judge of the rea- 
 sons which actuated my conduct." 
 
 "I am at your disposal," he replied, and motion- 
 ing me to a chair, he seated himself at his desk. "I 
 should perhaps warn m'sieu that it is advisable that 
 he should make as few reservations as may be." 
 
 "I intend to make only one reservation, and that 
 will be the name of a lady," I answered, and with- 
 out more ado I plunged into the story of the events 
 which had preceded and succeeded the death of
 
 282 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 Lucille. Now and again he interrupted my narra- 
 tive with a question, but by his manner he gave me 
 not the slightest indication as to whether he thought 
 that I was speaking the truth or not. But when I 
 had done he looked at me and asked me quietly : 
 "And this story of yours, m'sieu, you will be willing 
 to repeat in the presence of M. le Comte d'Haut- 
 ville?" 
 
 "I am willing to repeat it under oath in any one's 
 presence," I answered warmly, for I thought I de- 
 tected a note of sarcasm in his voice. 
 
 "And, of course, you will be able to bring forward 
 witnesses to vouch for the essential details?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I should ask that your officers should test the 
 truth of my statements for themselves," I answered, 
 quietly. 
 
 The Juge d'Instruction rose from his seat again, 
 and, approaching me, held out his hand. "M. Har- 
 dinge," he said, "it is fortunate for you that our 
 agents have already prepared me to believe the story 
 that you have told me, otherwise your folly might 
 have produced consequences to yourself which I will 
 not particularise. But I must warn you, m'sieu, 
 that you have a dangerous and active enemy, against 
 whom it behooves you to be on your guard." 
 
 "I take it that the question whether he is likely 
 to prove dangerous to me rests very much in your 
 hands," I said bluntly.
 
 BEFORE JUGE DESTRUCTION 283 
 
 "Ah ! There is your mistake, m'sieu," he replied. 
 "You must be aware how strongly circumstances 
 conspired to make you appear guilty. Would it sur- 
 prise you to learn that our investigations into this 
 crime have already sufficiently exonerated M. le 
 Comted'Hautville?" 
 
 "But he must have had some hand in the busi- 
 ness," I declared. "How, otherwise, is his knowl- 
 edge of it to be explained ?" 
 
 "It is not for me to explain at the moment," he 
 answered suavely. "And now perhaps you will al- 
 low me to apologise for the trouble I have been com- 
 pelled to cause you, and to retire while you make 
 good the appointment which brought you to Paris." 
 
 He rose, and, bowing, left me alone in the room, 
 at a complete loss to understand the meaning of his 
 words. The door had hardly closed behind him, 
 however, before it opened again and Melode en- 
 tered. I could scarcely believe my eyes. "Melode !" 
 
 I cried. "You here ? Have these rascals dared " 
 
 I could get no further, for rage choked my utter- 
 ance. 
 
 "Geoffrey!" she ejaculated, with a little cry of 
 delight, as she threw herself into my arms. "You 
 must not be angry, for those rascals have somehow 
 managed to get at the truth, and have made all 
 d'Hautville's machinations of no avail." 
 
 Whose anger would not prove evanescent at such 
 news, especially as the outcome had brought my
 
 284 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 fiancee to France just when I had desired her to 
 come? 
 
 "I don't think I will blame them, then," I said, 
 with an assumption of magnanimity, "for one reason 
 at least." 
 
 "And what is that?" asked my dear one. 
 
 "Because you will be just in time to see me win 
 the race for the cup." 
 
 Then the door opened again, and the Juge d'ln- 
 struction re-entered, but he was not alone. He was 
 accompanied by Mervyn.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE RACE FOR THE AMATEUR CUP 
 
 I WAS a long way past astonishment by this time, 
 and when Mervyn entered the room I shook hands 
 with him and said, "Awfully glad to see you, old 
 chap," as if his presence there was a most matter- 
 of-fact occurrence. 
 
 "One would have thought that you expected to 
 see me," he said, a couple of hours later. But that 
 was when we were alone together, after we had 
 supped, had returned to our hotel, and Melode had 
 betaken herself to bed. By that time I was acquaint- 
 ed with the reasons which had brought him on the 
 scene. I found that a telegram had been addressed 
 to Melode, in my name, making an appointment 
 to meet me in Paris, and that, distrusting the authen- 
 ticity of the message, she had bethought herself of 
 Mervyn, and under his charge had determined to 
 keep the appointment. As in my case, she had been 
 met at the railway station by a detective and had 
 been escorted to the Juge d'Instruction, who had 
 afterwards examined me. To her, fiowever, the 
 
 magistrate had solemnly asseverated that the tel- 
 
 285
 
 286 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 gram she had received had not emanated from the 
 Parisian police, though they had been apprised 
 anonymously of her arrival, and had thought the 
 time opportune for obtaining some particulars of 
 Lucille's life while in her service, to aid them in their 
 investigations. She, like myself, had thought it wise 
 to relate the whole of the circumstances of the case 
 to the Juge, though she had made no reservations 
 as to my name. Thus my story, corroborated by 
 hers in every particular, gained immensely in cred- 
 ibility. That was the extent of the information 
 which Melode could pass on to me, and though it 
 left us all absolutely in the dark as to the solution 
 of the mystery of Lucille's murder, yet it relieved 
 my mind infinitely to think that there was no possi- 
 bility of any charge of being concerned in the af- 
 fair being brought against me. Yet I could not un- 
 derstand how d'Hautville had also been exonerated. 
 Anyhow, it was obvious that if he had not been 
 the murderer he must have some information in his 
 possession which had enabled him to marshal the 
 evidence in such a way as to throw suspicion upon 
 myself. I could only pay a hearty tribute to the acu- 
 men of the police and the Juge d'Instruction for 
 having penetrated the infamous design. I need 
 hardly add that my determination to exact retribu- 
 tion from my enemy was none the less decided be- 
 cause his plot had failed. 
 
 I expressed my sentiments on the subject to Mer-
 
 RACE FOR THE AMATEUR CUP 287 
 
 vyn pretty vigorously, and he was so heartily in 
 agreement with me that I told him of the quarrel 
 which had already taken place, and of the postpone- 
 ment of hostilities until after the race. 
 
 He looked at me with a queer grin on his face. 
 "Of all the self-confident people I ever met, I think 
 you take the cake, Hardinge," he said. "You seem 
 to be as certain of winning the race and then escap- 
 ing the fire of one of the first shots in Europe as you 
 are of your breakfast to-morrow morning." 
 
 "Can't help it," I answered. "I suppose it is my 
 nature. But speaking of breakfast, reminds me that 
 if I am to keep my nerves in proper order it is time 
 I went to bed." 
 
 Mervyn laughed right out at that, and we both 
 made our way to the lift. 
 
 I had a night of undisturbed repose, and came 
 down as fresh as a lark. Melode and Mervyn soon 
 joined me, and we bustled off to the railway station 
 en route for Royat. 
 
 The journey itself was uneventful, but plenty of 
 material for conversation was afforded us by rea- 
 son of an announcement in one of the papers of an 
 arrest in connection with the murder of Lucille 
 Clement. The paragraph was only a brief one, 
 though it was made the occasion for the retailing 
 of the whole story of the murder as it had been 
 printed months previously. And according to the 
 paragraphist, the man arrested was an old lover of
 
 the girl, whom she had discarded when she had en- 
 tered Lady Melode's service. 
 
 I was disposed to discredit the accuracy of the re- 
 port, but not so Mervyn. It gave him the cue for 
 a theory which eventually proved almost so exactly 
 accurate that I cannot do better than give it here. 
 
 "This is the view I take," he said. "When Lu- 
 cille greeted you in so demonstrative a fashion in 
 the Cafe du Ouatz' Arts her former lover must have 
 been in the audience, and, his jealousy being aroused, 
 he must have followed you out and probably heard 
 the direction you gave to the cabman. It was too 
 far for him to go that night, but he remembered the 
 address, and determined to call in your absence. 
 Meanwhile, you had departed from Paris, leaving 
 d'Hautville and Lucille together. D'Hautville had 
 evidently already made a conquest of the girl, and 
 there is nothing more likely than that he would 
 remain for a few days in her company. He was 
 driving a red car at the time, and though, except in 
 height, he was not likely to be mistaken for you, 
 Hardinge, yet he probably managed to dress so as 
 to be mistaken for you, with a view of obtaining 
 compromising evidence against Lady Melode. Then 
 in his absence from the apartments occupied by Lu- 
 cille, the old lover made his appearance. Naturally, 
 Lucille, dazzled by her conquest of d'Hautville, re- 
 jected his proposals to return to him, and in a mo- 
 ment of frenzy he struck her to the heart. Then
 
 RACE FOR THE AMATEUR CUP 289 
 
 d'Hautville returned. His first thought would be 
 of his own safety, and not wishing for investiga- 
 tion, he probably disposed of the body in the easiest 
 way the Seine was easily accessible. In doing so, 
 he was probably guided by the thought that the evi- 
 dence which he was manufacturing against Lady 
 Melode would, in such case, be available against 
 you, Hardinge, and it was only your immediate 
 flight from Paris that same night which could have 
 saved you from arrest. As it was, he was compelled 
 to wait until time had either dimmed the witnesses' 
 memories for dates, or he had had an opportunity of 
 getting them out of the way, before denouncing 
 you." 
 
 "A pretty theory," I declared, "but still 'only a 
 theory." 
 
 "True," replied Mervyn, "but remember what the 
 magistrate said to you about the police enquiries 
 having already exonerated d'Hautville." 
 
 But I could not bring myself to believe the theory 
 and the discussion lasted until we detrained at Cler- 
 mont-Ferrand station. 
 
 Thereafter we had something else to think about. 
 The one subject which occupied the attention of ev- 
 ery one was the race. In fact, it would have been 
 impossible for anyone to think of anything else. The 
 whole country was seized with the automobile fever, 
 of which the bacilli, of enormous size and power, 
 were visible everywhere. Flitting to and fro, the
 
 majority without silencers, in order that they might 
 announce their presence the more unmistakably, the 
 cars made it almost impossible to hear one's self 
 speak. 
 
 Melode closed her ears with her hands, in mock 
 horror at the din, and declared that she would re- 
 turn to Paris forthwith. But the threat was an idle 
 one, for the wonderful amount of movement soon 
 produced the natural effect, and before we had 
 reached our hotel at Royat she was far more ex- 
 cited over the coming contest than myself. Luckily, 
 I had wired for Coles to send down one of his as- 
 sistants with my touring car to meet us, for there 
 was not a vehicle to be obtained for love or money. 
 Lucky, too, was it that I had engaged a suite of 
 rooms at my hotel, so that I had sufficient accom- 
 modation for the whole party by getting another 
 temporary bed put up in one room for Mervyn to 
 occupy jointly with myself. 
 
 We all of us went to bed early that night. Melode 
 was tired with the journey, and I was anxious for 
 a good night's rest in view of the strain of the mor- 
 row's event. Besides, we had to be up at 3.30 in 
 order to be present at the start. 
 
 I was restless during the night, much to my cha- 
 grin, for I wanted all my wits about me for the 
 ensuing day, and I was glad when I was called. A 
 bath put me in better fettle, and I managed to do 
 full justice to the meal prepared for us. At four we
 
 RACE FOR THE AMATEUR CUP 291 
 
 were in the car, en route for the starting- place at 
 Laschamps. The scene was a remarkable one. The 
 procession of cars and of pedestrians on the way to 
 the starting place was continuous, and our progress 
 was naturally slow. We did not arrive at the weigh- 
 ing-in tent until half an hour before the start, and 
 I found Coles nervously awaiting my arrival. I do 
 not know what he would have done had some acci- 
 dent prevented my putting in an appearance. Any- 
 how, he welcomed me with unfeigned delight. 
 
 There was plenty of time, for although the first 
 car was to be started at 6 A.M., I was seventh on 
 the list, and five minutes' interval was allowed be- 
 tween the sending off of each car. The draw had 
 placed d'Hautville fifth, so that if I passed him at 
 any point, and held my supremacy to the end, I 
 should know that one of my objects would be 
 achieved. 
 
 The time did not hang on my hands, for there 
 were a number of details to be attended to, and I 
 nearly missed seeing d'Hautville start, owing to my 
 preoccupation with matters of detail. But I man- 
 aged to be at the line a minute before he was sent 
 on his journey, and I was glad to see that he recog- 
 nised that I was present. When his glance rested 
 on me, and passed from me to Lady Melode, I saw 
 a grim scowl pass across his face, and I knew that 
 I should be called upon to do my best. 
 
 Melode observed his appearance at the same time
 
 292 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 as myself, and her hand tightened on my arm. "You 
 will be careful, Geoffrey," she whispered. "He 
 means mischief." 
 
 "I'll trust to the talisman you gave me," I replied, 
 and I held up my hand to show that the ring was 
 still on my finger. 
 
 He went away with admirable precision. He was 
 driving a 96-h.p. Richard Brasier, and he took only 
 sixty seconds to disappear from sight behind the 
 clump of chestnuts which marked the vanishing 
 point on the rise towards the Col de la Moreno. 
 
 "We shall have our work cut out to overtake 
 him," I remarked to Coles, who was at my elbow, as 
 I put the watch with which I had been timing 
 d'Hautville into my pocket. 
 
 "If he cannot do better than that, we shall catch 
 him on the second round," said Coles, "for we have 
 twice done the distance in fifty-four." 
 
 The succeeding ten minutes dragged more than 
 the whole of the previous time, and I was profoundly 
 thankful when my turn came to take my seat and 
 await the signal. The engine was started. I said 
 a word of farewell to Melode. Coles sat, alert, at 
 my side, and then we were away. 
 
 I cannot give an account of the race itself. I do 
 not yet know any one who ever took part in a motor 
 race who could give more than an impressionist 
 sketch of the incidents. The man who drives a car 
 has no eyes for anything but the road in front of
 
 him, and no ears for aught but the throb of the en- 
 gine, until he comes in sight of the car that started 
 in front of him. Then a third factor is added to 
 his calculations, and even if, before, he has had a 
 thought to spare for anything else, from that time 
 forth he forgets everything but the desire to pass 
 his adversary. And this fever gripped me early in 
 the race for the Amateur Cup. Not half way round 
 the first round of the circuit I viewed the car which 
 had started immediately before mine, and with a 
 rush I was past and away. Then for a long while 
 the road was clear, and not until we sighted the 
 starting place, at the end of the first round, did I 
 catch sight of another car. But there, as we came 
 into the straight, I saw a car ahead, and, trusting 
 that it was d'Hautville's, I shouted to Coles to slight- 
 ly increase the charge of petrol, and I thundered 
 down the straight stretch in magnificent fashion. 
 
 I passed that car half way up the incline, but the 
 colour showed me that it was not my chief adver- 
 sary's car, and I realised that he, too, must have al- 
 ready passed this man. 
 
 I saw nothing of him on the second round, though 
 three more of the cars which had preceded me I 
 passed on the course. I began to feel anxious. His 
 Brasier was running well, evidently, and for aught 
 I knew he might be increasing his lead. 
 
 I urged Coles to do everything he knew to accel- 
 erate our progress, though with but faint hopes that
 
 294 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 he would be able to do anything more than he had 
 done already. 
 
 We entered upon the third round. By this time 
 the competing cars were spread out upon the course 
 and through the blinding clouds of dust it was near- 
 ly impossible to distinguish the cars ahead, and quite 
 impossible to distinguish which particular car was 
 passed. 
 
 Yet, as once again we came to the starting post,, 
 I sighted a car which I knew instinctively to be 
 that of my enemy. We flashed by the grand-stand 
 not fifteen seconds behind him, and I knew that I 
 had only to retain the advantage to be declared the 
 winner. But I was not going to be satisfied with 
 that sort of victory. I wanted to be the first to 
 finish, so that my victory should be patent to every 
 one, and thereafter I took chances that I had avoid- 
 ed on previous rounds. My temerity was rewarded. 
 Yard by yard I drew nearer, until inches only sepa- 
 rated the two cars. Then my car drew level. For 
 seconds it seemed minutes to me the cars hung 
 together. Then d'Hautville's car dropped behind. 
 
 At the moment of passing d'Hautville recognised 
 me. How I knew that he had done so I cannot ex- 
 actly tell, but I fancied that I heard my name coupled 
 with a curse screamed after me. I would fain now 
 have moderated my pace, but I dared not. D'Haut- 
 ville's car was still close at my heels, and a minute
 
 RACE FOR THE AMATEUR CUP 295 
 
 or so later Coles shouted in my ear that it was in 
 its turn gaining on us. 
 
 It was in this order that we approached the dread- 
 ed Rochefort corner, and here was a risk that I could 
 not take at full speed without a certainty of destruc- 
 tion. I postponed the change of speed until the last 
 possible moment, and was just on the turn when I 
 heard a yell from Coles. 
 
 "Let her go, sir !" he shouted, and on the instant 
 I jammed the lever on to the highest speed. If ever 
 good mechanism and a good mechanician saved a 
 man's life, mine was saved in that instant. The 
 clutch gripped, and with a jar that threatened to tear 
 the car to pieces she leaped forward. 
 
 It was not a moment too soon. The death that 
 raced at our heels missed us by inches only. I was 
 not aware of my escape at the time. I saw nothing 
 of the danger, and it was not until the race was over, 
 and I had whirled in first, and alone, that I heard 
 what had happened. 
 
 "Why did you tell me to put on my top speed at 
 the corner?" I asked Coles. 
 
 "I thought if the other chap wanted to commit 
 suicide there was no reason why he should do so at 
 our expense, sir," he replied. 
 
 "I don't understand," I said. 
 
 "It was like this," he explained. "Whether the 
 driver of the car we passed at Rochefort forgot 
 whereabouts he was, or whether he was so mad at
 
 296 THE LADY OF THE BLUE MOTOR 
 
 our passing him that he determined that, if he could 
 not win, neither should we, I cannot tell. But when 
 we slowed down for the turn he kept on his highest, 
 and picked us up hand over hand. He was steering 
 a line which would have just brought him into us 
 when we were half round. He only cleared us by 
 inches." 
 
 "Well?" I asked. 
 
 "It was his last chance," said Coles, "for he took 
 the wall on the right. I don't suppose that there is 
 
 much of his car left at all events." 
 
 ***** 
 
 Coles was right in his supposition. There was 
 very little of the car left, and when d'Hautville was 
 extricated from the wreckage he was beyond the 
 possibility of doing any more harm to anyone. Fate 
 had stepped in and robbed both Mervyn and myself 
 of the opportunity of calling him to account for his 
 misdeeds or was it Providence? Lady Melode 
 Hardinge, nee Temple, declares that my escape was 
 due to the protective influence of the ring she had 
 given me. I laugh at the theory and wear the ring. 
 
 THE END
 
 NOVELS OF SOUTHERN LIFE 
 
 By THOMAS DIXON, JR. 
 
 Handsomely bound in cloth. Price, 75 cents per volume, postpaid. 
 
 THE LEOPARD'S SPOTS. A Story of the White Man's 
 Burden, 1865-1900. With illustrations by C. D. Williams. 
 
 A tale of the South about the dramatic events of Destruction, Re- 
 construction and Upbuilding. The work is able and eloquent and the 
 verifiable events of history are followed closely in the development of 
 a story full of struggle. It has been called the " most noteworthy 
 book of recent years." 
 
 THE CLANSMAN. With illustrations, by Arthur I. Keller. 
 
 While not connected with it in any way, this is a companion vol- 
 ume to the author's "epoch-making" story The Leopard's Spots. 
 It is a novel with a great deal to it, and which very properly is going 
 to interest many thousands of readers. * * * It is, first of all, a force- 
 ful, dramatic, absorbing love story, with a sequence of events so sur- 
 prising that one is prepared for the fact that much of it is founded on 
 actual happenings; but Mr. Dixon has, as before, a deeper purpose 
 he has aimed to show that the original formers of the Ku Klux Klan 
 were modern knights errant taking the only means at hand to right 
 intolerable wrongs. 
 
 THE TRAITOR. A Story of the Fall of the Invisible Empire. 
 Illustrations in colors by C. D. Williams. (Ready July 1) 
 
 The third and last book in this remarkable trilogy of novels relating 
 to Southern Reconstruction. It is a thrilling story of love, adventure, 
 treason, and the United States Secret Service dealing with the decline 
 and fall of the KuKlux Klan. 
 
 Mr. Dixon was a minister of the church before he undertook writ- 
 ing books. Some people seem to think that there is a little too much 
 sermonizing in his stories; be that as it may, the books have been very 
 widely read and have provoked no end of discussion. The Recon- 
 struction policy is a big subject with the author and one very near 
 to his heart. Throughout all his books there is the ring of truth, and 
 honesty, and hot-eyed indignation, 
 
 THE ONE WOMAN. A Story of Modern Utopia. 
 
 A love story and character study of three strong men and two fas- 
 cinating women. In swift, unified, and dramatic action, we see 
 Socialism a deadly force, in the hour of the eclipse of Faith, destroy- 
 ing the home life and weakening the fiber of Anglo Saxon manhood. 
 
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 THE MASTERLY AND REALISTIC NOVELS OF 
 
 FRANK MORRIS 
 
 Handsomely bound in cloth. Price, 75 cents per volume, postpaid. 
 
 THE OCTOPUS. A Story of California 
 
 Mr. Norris conceived the ambitious idea of writing a trilogy of 
 novels which, taken together, shall symbolize American life as a 
 whole, with all its hopes and aspirations and its tendencies, through- 
 out the length and breadth of the continent. And for the central 
 symbol he has taken wheat, as being quite literally the ultimate 
 source of American power and prosperity. The Octopus is a story of 
 wheat raising and railroad greed in California. It immediately made 
 a place for itself. 
 
 It is full of enthusiasm and poetry and conscious strength. One 
 cannot read it without a responsive thrill of sympathy for the earnest- 
 ness, the breadth of purpose, the verbal power of the man. 
 
 THE PIT. A Story of Chicago. 
 
 This powerful novel is the fictitious narrative of a deal in the Chi- 
 cago wheat pit and holds the reader from the beginning. In a masterly 
 way the author has grasped the essential spirit of the great city by the 
 lakes. The social existence, the gambling in stocks and produce, the 
 characteristic life in Chicago, form a background for an exceedingly 
 vigorous and human tale of modern life and love. 
 
 A MAN'S WOMAN. 
 
 A story which has for a heroine a girl decidedly out of the ordinary 
 run of fiction. It is most dramatic, containing some tremendous pic- 
 tures of the daring of the men who are trying to reach the Pole * * * 
 but it is at the same time essentially a -woman's book, and the story 
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 both have well-defined careers. 
 
 McTEAGUE. A Story of San Francisco. 
 
 " Since Bret Harte and the Forty-niner no one has written of Cali- 
 fornia life with the vigor and accuracy of Mr. Norris. His ' McTeague' 
 Settled his right to a place in American literature ; and he has now 
 presented a third novel, ' Blix," which is in some respects the finest 
 and likely to be the most popular of the three." Washington Times. 
 
 BLIX. 
 
 " Frank Norris has written in ' Blix ' just what such a woman's name 
 would imply a story of a frank, fearless girl comrade to all men who 
 are true and honest because she is true and honest. How she saved 
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 SATAN SANDERSON. With halftone illustrations by A. B. 
 Wenzell, and inlay cover in colors. 
 
 From the heroic figures of the American Revolution and the ro- 
 mantic personage of Byron's day, Miss Rives has turned to the here 
 and now. And in the present she finds for her immense and brilliant 
 talent a tale as dramatic and enthralling as any of the storied past. 
 The career of the Rev. Harry Sanderson, known as " Satan " in his 
 college days, who sowed the wind to reap the whirlwind and won at 
 last through strangest penance the prize of love, seizes the reader in 
 the strait grip of its feverish interest. Miss Rives has outdone her- 
 self in the invention of a love story that rings with lyric feeling and 
 touches every fiber of the heart with strength and beauty. 
 
 THE CASTAWAY. With illustrations in colors by Howard 
 Chandler Christy. 
 
 The book takes its title from a saying of Lord Byron's: "Three 
 great men ruined in one year a king, a cad, and a castaway." The 
 king was Napoleon. The cad was Beau Brummel. And the castaway, 
 crowned with genius, smutched with slander, illumined by fame was 
 Lord Byron himself 1 This is the romance of his loves the strange 
 marriage and still stranger separation, the riotous passions, the final 
 ennobling affection from the day when he awoke to find himself the 
 most famous man in England, till, a self-exiled castaway, he played 
 out his splendid death-scene in the struggle for Greek freedom. 
 
 " Suffused with the rosy light of romance." New York Times. 
 
 HEARTS COURAGEOUS. With illustrations by A. B. Wenzell. 
 
 " Hearts Courageous" is made of new material, a picturesque yet 
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 that locality just before the Revolution, form an attractive setting for 
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 THE RECKONING. By Robert W. Chambers. With illustra- 
 tions by Henry Hutt. 
 
 Mr. Chambers has surpassed himself in telling the tale of the love 
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 THE PRIDE OF JENNICO. Being a Memoir of Captain Basil 
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 " What separates it from most books of its class is its distinction 
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 fervent charm of its love passages. It is a very attractive piece of 
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 FASCINATING ROMANCES 
 
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 THE MAIN CHANCE. With illustrations by Harrison Fisher. 
 
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 A brilliant chapter in natural history. Infinitely more wholesome 
 reading than the average tale of sport, since it gives a glimpse of the 
 hunt from the point of view_ of the hunted. " True in substance but 
 fascinating as fiction. It will interest old and young, city-bound and 
 free-footed, those who know animals and those who do not." 
 Chicago Record- Herald. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, - - New York
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time, library size, 
 printed or. excellent paper most of them finely illustrated. Full and 
 handsomely bound in cloth. Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 THE CATTLE BARON'S DAUGHTER. A Novel. By Harold 
 Bindloss. With illustrations by David Ericson. 
 
 A story of the fight for the cattle-ranges of the West. Intense in- 
 terest is aroused by its pictures of life in the cattle country at that 
 critical moment of transition when the great tracts of land used for 
 grazing were taken up by the incoming homesteaders, with the in- 
 evitable result of fierce contest, of passionate emotion on both sides, 
 and of final triumph of the inevitable tendency of the times. 
 
 WINSTON OF THE PRAIRIE. With illustrations in color by 
 W. Herbert Dunton. 
 
 A man of upright character, young and clean, but badly worsted 
 in the battle of life, consents as a desperate resort to impersonate for 
 a period a man of his own age scoundrelly in character but of an 
 aristocratic and moneyed family. The better man finds himself barred 
 from resuming his old name. How, coming into the other man's pos- 
 sessions, he wins the respect of all men, and the love of a tastidious, 
 delicately nurtured girl, is the thread upon which the story hangs. It 
 is one of the best novels of the West that has appeared for years. 
 
 THAT MAINWARING AFFAIR. By A. Maynard Barbour. 
 With illustrations by E. Plaisted Abbott. 
 
 A novel with a most intricate and carefully unraveled plot. A 
 naturally probable and excellently developed story and the reader 
 will follow the fortunes of each character with unabating interest 
 * * the interest is keen at the close of the first chapter and in- 
 creases to the end. 
 
 AT THE TIME APPOINTED. With a frontispiece in color* 
 
 by J. H. Marchand. 
 
 The fortunes of a young mining engineer who through an accident 
 loses his memory and identity. In his new character and under his 
 new name, the hero lives a new life of struggle "and adventure. The 
 volume will be found highly entertaining by those who appreciate a 
 thoroughly good story. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, - - New York
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time, library size, 
 printed on excellent paper most of them finely illustrated. Full and 
 handsomely bound in cloth. Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 CAROLINA LEE. By Lillian Bell. With frontispiece by Dora 
 Wheeler Keith. 
 
 Carolina Lee is the Uncle Tom's Cabin of Christian Science. Its 
 keynote is " Divine Love" in the understanding of the knowledge of 
 all good things which may be obtainable. When the tale is told, the 
 sick healed, wrong changed to right, poverty of purse and spirit 
 turned into riches, lovers made worthy of each other and happily 
 united, including Carolina Lee and her affinity, it is borne upon the 
 reader that he has been giving rapid attention to a free lecture on 
 Christian Science ; that the working out of each character is an argu- 
 ment for " Faith;" and that the theory is persuasively attractive. 
 
 A Christian Science novel that will bring delight to the heart of 
 every believer in that faith. It is a well told story, entertaining, and 
 cleverly mingles art, humor and sentiment 
 
 HILMA, by William Tillinghast Eldridge, with illustrations by 
 Harrison Fisher and Martin Justice, and inlay cover. 
 
 It is a rattling good tale, written with charm, and full of remark- 
 able happenings, dangerous doings, strange events, jealous intrigues 
 and sweet love making. The reader 's interest is not permitted to lag, 
 but is taken up and carried on from incident to incident with ingenu- 
 ity and contagious enthusiasm. The story gives us the Graustark 
 and 7/4* Prisoner of Zenda thrill, but the tale is treated with fresh- 
 ness, ingenuity, and enthusiasm, and the climax is both unique and 
 satisfying. It will hold the fiction lover close to every page. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE FOUR FINGERS, by Fred M. 
 White, with halftone illustrations by Will Grefe. 
 
 A fabulously rich gold mine in Mexico is known by the picturesque 
 and mysterious name of The four Fingers. It originally belonged 
 to an Aztec tribe, and its location is known to one surviving descendant 
 a man possessing wonderful occult power. Should any person un- 
 lawfully discover its whereabouts, four of his ringers are mysteriously 
 removed, and one by one returned to him. The appearance of the 
 final fourth betokens his swift and violent death. 
 
 Surprises, strange and startling, are concealed in every chapter of 
 this completely engrossing detective story. The horrible fascination 
 of the tragedy holds one in rapt attention to the end. And through 
 it runs the thread of a curious love story. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, - - New York
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time, library size, 
 printed on excellent paper most of them finely Dlustrated. Full and 
 handsomely bound in cloth. Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 NEDRA, by George Barr McCutcheon, with color frontispiece, 
 and other illustrations by Harrison Fisher. 
 
 The story of an elopement of a young couple from Chicago, who 
 decide to go to London, travelling as brother and sister. Their diffi- 
 culties commence in New York and become greatly exaggerated 
 when they are shipwrecked in mid-ocean. The hero finds himself 
 stranded on the island of Nedra with another girl, whom he has 
 rescued by mistake. The story gives an account of their finding 
 some of the other passengers, and the circumstances which resulted 
 from the strange mix-up. 
 
 POWER LOT, by Sarah P. McLean Greene. Illustrated. 
 
 The story of the reformation of a man and his restoration to self- 
 respect through the power of honest labor, the exercise of honest in- 
 dependence, and the aid of clean, healthy, out-of-door life and sur- 
 roundings. The characters take hold of the heart and win sympathy. 
 The dear old story has never been more lovingly and artistically told. 
 
 MY MAMIE ROSE. The History of My Regeneration, by 
 Owen Kildare. Illustrated. 
 
 This autobiography is a powerful book of love and sociology. Reads 
 like the strangest fiction. Is the strongest truth and deals with the 
 story of a man's redemption through a woman's love and devotion. 
 
 JOHN BURT, by Frederick Upham Adams, with illustrations. 
 
 John Burt, a New England lad, goes West to seek his fortune and 
 finds it in gold mining. He becomes one of the financial factors and 
 pitilessly crushes his enemies. The story of the Stock Exchange 
 manipulations was never more vividly and engrossingly told. A love 
 story runs through the book, and is handled with infinite skill. 
 
 THE HEART LINE, by Gelett Burgess, with halftone illustra- 
 tions by Lester Ralph, and inlay cover in colors. 
 
 A great dramatic story of the city that was. A story of Bohemian 
 life in San Francisco, before the disaster, presented with mirror-like 
 accuracy. Compressed into it are all the sparkle, all the gayety, all 
 the wild, whirling life of the glad, mad, bad, and most delightful city 
 of the Golden Gate. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, - - New York
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time. Library 
 size. Printed on excellent paper most of them with illustra- 
 tions of marked beauty and handsomely bound in cloth. 
 Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 THE FAIR GOD ; OR, THE LAST OF THE TZINS. 
 By Lew Wallace. With illustrations by Eric Pape. 
 
 " The story tells of the love of a native princess for Alvarado, and it 
 is worked out with all of Wallace's skill * * * it gives a fine pic- 
 ture of the heroism of the Spanish conquerors and of the culture and 
 nobility of the Aztecs." New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 "Ben Hur sold enormously, but The Fair God was the best of the 
 General's stories a powerful and romantic treatment of the defeat of 
 Montezuma by Cortes." Athetuzum. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE KANSAS. By Louis Tracy. 
 
 A story of love and the salt sea of a helpless ship whirled into the 
 hands of cannibal Fuegians of desperate fighting and tender romance, 
 enhanced by the art of a master of story telling who describes with 
 his wonted felicity and power of holding the reader's attention * * * 
 filled with the swing of adventure. 
 
 A MIDNIGHT GUEST. A Detective Story. By Fred M. 
 White. With a frontispiece. 
 
 The scene of the story centers in London and Italy. The book is 
 skilfully written and makes one of the most baffling, mystifying, ex- 
 citing detective stories ever written cleverly keeping the suspense 
 and mystery intact uncil the surprising discoveries which precede 
 the end. 
 
 THE HONOUR OF SAVELLI. A Romance. By S. Levett 
 
 Yeats. With cover and wrapper in four colors. 
 Those who enjoyed Stanley Weyman's A Gentleman of France 
 will be engrossed and captivated by this delightful romance of Italian 
 history. It is replete with exciting episodes, hair-breath escapes, 
 magnificent sword-play, and deals wich the agitating times in Italian 
 history when Alexander II was Pope and the famous and infamous 
 Borgias were tottering to their fall. 
 
 SISTER CARRIE. By Theodore Drieser. With a frontis- 
 piece, and wrapper in color. H 
 In all fiction there is probably no more graphic and poignant study 
 of the way in which man loses his grip on life, lets his pride, his cour- 
 age, his self-respect slip from him, and, finally, even ceases to struggle 
 in the mire that has engulfed him. * * ' : There is more tonic val> 
 ue in Sister Carrie than in a whole shelfful of sermons. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, - NEW YORK
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time. Library 
 size. Printed on excellent paper most of them with illustra- 
 tions of marked beauty and handsomely bound in cloth. 
 Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 THE AFFAIR AT THE INN. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 
 
 With illustrations by Martin Justice. 
 
 " As superlatively clever in the writing as it is entertaining in the 
 reading. It is actual comedy of the most artistic sort, and it is 
 handled with a freshness and originality that is unquestionably 
 novel." Boston Transcript. " A feast of humor and good cheer, 
 yet subtly pervaded by special shades of feeling, fancy, tenderness, 
 or whimsicality. A merry thing in prose. '* St. Louis Democrat. 
 
 ROSE 0' THE RIVER. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. With 
 
 illustrations by George Wright. 
 
 " ' Rose o' the River,' a charming bit of sentiment, gracefully 
 written and deftly touched with a gentle humor. It is a dainty book 
 daintily illustrated." New York Tribune. "A wholesome, bright, 
 refreshing story, an ideal book to give a young girl." Chicago 
 Record-Herald. " An idyllic story, replete with pathos and inimita- 
 ble humor. As story-telling it is perfection, and as portrait-painting 
 it is true to the life. London Mail. 
 
 TILLIE : A Mennonite Maid. By Helen R. Martin. With 
 
 illustrations by Florence Scovel Shinn. 
 
 The little " Mennonite Maid " who wanders through these pages 
 is something quite new in fiction. Tillie is hungry for books and 
 beauty and love ; and she comes into her inhentance at the end. 
 " Tillie is faulty, sensitive, big-hearted, eminently human, and first, 
 last and always lovable. Her charm glows warmly, the story is well 
 handled, the characters skilfully developed." The Book Buyer. 
 
 LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Humphry Ward. 
 
 With illustrations by Howard Chandler Christy. 
 ' The most marvellous work of its wonderful author." New York 
 World. "We touch regions and attain altitudes which it is not given 
 to the ordinary novelist even to approach." London Times. "In 
 no other story has Mrs. Ward approached the brilliancy and vivacity 
 of Lady Rose's Daughter." North American Review. 
 
 THE BANKER AND THE BEAR. By Henry K. Webster. 
 
 " An exciting and absorbing story." New York Times. "Intense- 
 ly thrilling in parts, but an unusually good story all through. There 
 is a love affair of real charm and most novel surroundings, there is a 
 run on the bank which is almost worth a year's growth, and there is 
 all manner of exhilarating men and deeds which should bring the 
 book into high and permanent favor." Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, - NEW YORK
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time. Library 
 size. Printed on excellent paper most of them with illustra- 
 tions of marked beauty and handsomely bound in cloth. 
 Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 BARREL OF THE BLESSED ISLES. By Irving Bach- 
 
 eller. With illustrations by Arthur Keller. 
 "Barrel, the clock tinker, is a wit, philosopher, and man of mystery. 
 Learned, strong, kindly, dignified, he towers like a giant above the 
 people among whom he lives. It is another tale of trie North Coun- 
 try, full of the odor of wood and field. Wit, humor, pathos and high 
 thlnMng are in this book.' ' Boston Transcript. 
 D'RI AND I : A Tale of Daring Deeds in the Second War 
 
 with the British. Being the Memoirs of Colonel Ramon 
 
 Bell, U. S. A. By Irving Bacheller. With illustrations by 
 
 F. C. Yohn. 
 
 " Mr. Bacheller is admirable alike in his scenes of peace and war. 
 D'ri, a mighty hunter, has the same dry humor as Uncle Eb. He 
 fights magnificently on the ' Lawrence,' and was among the wounded 
 when Perry went to the ' Niagara." As a romance of early American 
 history it is great for the enthusiasm it creates." A T ew York Times. 
 
 EBEN HOLDEN : A Tale of the North Country. By Irving 
 
 Bacheller. 
 
 " As pure as water and as good as bread," says Mr. Howells. "Read 
 ' Eben Holden ' " is the advice of Margaret Sangster. " It is a forest- 
 scented, fresh-aired, bracing and wholly American story of country 
 and town life. * * * If in the far future our successors wish to 
 know what were the real life and atmosphere in which the country 
 folk that saved this nation grew, loved, wrought and had their being, 
 they must go back to such true and zestful and poetic tales of 'fiction' 
 as ' Eben Holden,' " says Edmund Clarence Stedman. 
 
 SILAS STRONG: Emperor of the Woods. By Irving Bach- 
 eller. With a frontispiece. 
 
 " A modern Leatherstocking. Brings the city dweller the aroma of 
 the pine and the music of the wind in its branches an epic poem 
 * * * forest-scented, fresh-aired, and wholly American. A stronger 
 character than Eben Holden.' ' Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 VERGILIUS: A Tale of the Coming of Christ. By Irving 
 Bacheller. 
 
 A thrilling and beautiful story of two young Roman patricians whose 
 great and perilous love in the reign of Augustus leads them through 
 the momentous, exciting events that marked the year just preceding 
 the birth of Christ. 
 
 Splendid character studies of the Emperor Augustus, of Herod and 
 his degenerate son, Antipater, and of his daughter "the incomparable" 
 Salome. A great triumph in the art of historical portrait painting. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, - NEW YORK
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 IN. POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time. Library 
 size. Printed on excellent paper most of them with illustra- 
 tions of marked beauty and handsomely bound in cloth. 
 Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 BARBARA WINSLOW, REBEL. By Elizabeth Ellis. 
 
 With illustrations by John Rae, and colored inlay cover. 
 The following, taken from story, will best describe the heroine : 
 A TOAST: "To the bravest comrade in misfortune, the sweetest 
 companion in peace and at all times the most courageous of women." 
 -Barbara Winslow. " A romantic story, buoyant, eventful, and in 
 matters of love exactly what the heart could desire. ". New York Sun. 
 
 SUSAN. By Ernest Oldmeadow. With a color frontispiece 
 
 by Frank Haviland. Medalion in color on front cover. 
 Lord Ruddington falls helplessly in love with Miss Langley, whom 
 be sees in one of her walks accompanied by her maid, Susan. 
 Through a misapprehension of personalities his lordship addresses 
 a love missive to the maid. Susan accepts in perfect good faith, 
 and an epistolary love-making goes on till they are disillusioned. It 
 naturally makes a droll and delightful little comedy ; and is a story 
 that is particularly clever in the telling. 
 
 WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE. By Jean Web- 
 
 ster. With illustrations by C. D. Williams. 
 "The book is a treasure." Chicago Daily News. "Bright, 
 whimsical, and thoroughly entertaining." Buffalo Express. " One 
 of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been writ- 
 ten." N. Y. Press. " To any woman wno has enjoyed the pleasures 
 of a college life this book cannot fail to bring back many sweet recol- 
 lections ; and to those who have not been to college the wit, lightness, 
 and charm of Patty are sure to be no less delightful. "Public Opinion. 
 
 THE MASQUERADER. By Katherine Cecil Thurston. 
 
 With illustrations by Clarence F. Underwood. 
 " You can't drop it till you have turned the last page." Cleveland 
 Leader. " Its very audacity of motive, of execution, of solution, al- 
 most takes one's breath away. The boldness of its denouement 
 is sublime." Boston Transcript. " The literary hit of a generation. 
 The best of it is the story deserves all its srccess. A masterly story." 
 St. Louis 'Dispatch. " The story is ingeniously told, and cleverly 
 constructed." The Dial. 
 THE GAMBLER. By Katherine Cecil Thurston. With 
 
 illustrations by John Campbell. 
 
 " Tells of a high strung young Irish woman who has a passion for 
 gambling, inherited from a long line of sporting ancestors. She has 
 a high sense of honor, too, and that causes complications. She is a 
 vry human, lovable character, and love saves ner." N. Y. Times. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, "T" NEW YORK
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time. Library 
 size. Printed on excellent paper most of them with illustra- 
 tions of marked beauty and handsomely bound in cloth. 
 Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. By Myrtle Reed. 
 
 A charming story of a quaint corner of New England where bygone 
 romance finds a modern parallel. One of the prettiest, sweetest, and 
 quaintest of old-fashioned love stories * * * A rare book, ex- 
 quisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate fancy, of tenderness, 
 of delightful humor and spontaneity. A dainty volume, especially 
 suitable for a gift 
 
 DOCTOR LUKE OF THE LABRADOR. By Norman 
 
 Duncan. With a frontispiece and inlay cover. 
 How the doctor came to the bleak Labrador coast and there in say- 
 ing life made expiation. Indignity, simplicity, humor, in sympathetic 
 etching of a sturdy fisher people, and above all in the echoes of the 
 sea, Doctor Luke is worthy of great praise. Character, humor, poign- 
 ant pathos, and the sad grotesque conjunctions of old and new civili- 
 zations are expressed through the medium of a style that has distinc- 
 tion and strikes a note of rare personality. 
 
 THE DAY'S WORK. By Rudyard Kipling. Illustrated. 
 
 The London Morning Post says : " It would be hard to find better 
 reading * * * the book is so varied, so full of color and life from 
 end to end, that few who read the first two or three stories will lay it 
 down till they have read the last and the last is a veritable gem 
 
 * * * contains some of the best of his highly vivid work * * * 
 Kipling is a born story-teller and a man of humor into the bargain. 
 
 ELEANOR LEE. By Margaret E. Sangster. With a front- 
 ispiece. 
 
 A story of married life, and attractive picture of wedded bliss * * 
 an entertaining story or a man's redemption through a woman's love 
 
 * * * no one who knows anything of marriage or parenthood can 
 read this story with eyes that are always dry * * * goes straight 
 to the heart of everyone who knows the meaning of "love "and 
 " home." 
 
 THE COLONEL OF THE RED HUZZARS. By John 
 Reed Scott. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. 
 
 " Full of absorbing charm, sustained interest, and a wealth of 
 thrilling and romantic situations. " So naively fresh in its handling, 
 so plausible through its naturalness, that it comes like a mountain 
 breeze across the far-spreading desert of similar romances." Gazette- 
 Times, Pittsburg, " A slap-dashing day romance." New York Sun, 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, - NEW YORK
 
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