Court Cards

Y uncle, Colonel Jeremy Sundown, was a strange man. He was also old and my only relative. Every Sunday at three o'clock I would call at his Club: but, though, if ever I made excuse, he was greatly annoyed, when I came he treated me with rudeness and would always forgo his tea, lest he should have to pay for mine as well.

I must frankly confess that for a long time my attention to him was interested, for I believed him to be rich; but my worldly wisdom was presently suitably served, for one day he bluntly requested the loan of fifty pounds. I am glad to remember that I quickly wrote him a cheque and that I had the decency thereafter to be more punctilious about visiting him. Indeed, I once or twice went so far as to ask him to dine with me, but he each time refused. Three more small loans I made him, but he plainly disliked asking me to lend him money and never referred to the matter of paying me back.

Then, one day, I heard he had died on the steps of his Club; and two days later I learned that he had left me three hundred and fifty thousand pounds.

I had always declared that, if ever I became a rich man, I would lead a life of complete and impregnable idleness: but, after six months of leisure in the South of France, I could bear this condition no longer and wrote desperately to George Lustre, who was a City solicitor and an old friend of mine, asking him to keep his eyes open for any suitable job.

To my delight, he replied by return of post, saying that my letter had been timely, for that he had waiting at that moment a singular piece of work, for which, said he, I can find no takers at all, because, as luck will have it, it is a rich man's job.

That was enough for me; and, telling my servants to follow, I set out for London forthwith.

So it fell out that at eight o'clock on a fine July evening I ran into Blois, with dust lying on my face and tar dripping from the wings of my new Rolls-Royce. I was healthily tired, for, leaving at dawn, I had come from Grasse in the day. And that is a long journey.

I left my dressing-case at The Hotel and drove to a garage where I knew they would care for the car. Then I walked back to the hotel and half an hour later sat down to a decent meal.

When this was over, I was almost too tired to smoke, and, after a cigarette, I defied the law of digestion and went to bed.

I had given careful instructions that I was not to be called and was fully expecting to sleep for ten or twelve hours; but no more than three had gone by before I was awakened by the violent clamour of a powerful electric gong.

For some moments I heard it in my dreams, but at last I opened my eyes.

The hotel was on fire.

Within and without the building, everybody present seemed to have lost their wits: I never have heard such an outcry, and, what with the noise which the guests and staff made negotiating passages and stairs, the howls of the crowd which had already collected in the street, the shrieks of frightened women and the deafening persistence of the gong, anyone might have thought that the end of the world was at hand. Yet there seemed to me to be no imminent danger, for, though I could smell the smoke, I could hear no sound of the fire and, when I looked out of mj window, there were no flames to be seen. Moreover, the electric light was still working; so I put on a coat and some trousers and, thrusting all else that I had into my dressing-case, left my room and made my way down to the hall.

I believe I was the last person to leave the hotel, and, as I gained the street, for the first time a glow appeared in the windows of a chamber upon the first floor.

Even then the building could most certainly have been saved, but the firemen did not arrive, and the police, who had formed a cordon, refused to permit anyone else to enter or re-enter the house.

In vain the luckless proprietor begged to be allowed to return and empty his safe: in vain a tall American insisted that it would take him less than one minute to fetch his wife's jewels: in vain I collected six porters and declared that, armed with buckets, we alone could get the fire under in a quarter of an hour. The answer was always the same. 'It is too late now. You should not have left the house.'

It was an outrageous business: but that is the way of France, and, since Fire waits for no man, by the time the brigade arrived, the building was doomed.

The hotel stood well back from the street in a sort of place, and I was standing, with my back to the front of a shop, immediately opposite, watching the conflagration, when I became aware of a girl who was standing beside me doing the same.

She was hatless, and the fur collar of her loose, tweed coat was fastened about her throat. She was extraordinarily handsome, and might have been twenty-five. Her short, thick hair was dark and shining in the light of the flames, and she leaned easily against the window, with her hands thrust into her pockets and a rueful look on her face.

As I glanced at her, the crowd came back on us, and I put out my arm, to save her from being crushed.

She smiled and thanked me.

"Were you staying there?" said I.

She nodded.

"Unfortunately."

"Have you lost your luggage?" said I.

"I've lost everything," she said. "I was fool enough to rush out when I heard the noise—and there you are."

With that, she glanced down, and I saw that her legs were bare. There were little bedroom slippers upon her feet, and a wisp of a night-gown was floating from under her coat.

"Good Heavens," said I. "Have you no clothes at all?"

"Not a stitch. I tell you, I've lost everything. And if those fools with the hose don't do better than they've done up to now, I suppose the garage will go, and I shall lose my car. How are you off?"

"Oh, I'm all right," said I, "I only had a dressing-case with me and I brought that along."

As I spoke, I looked down to the pavement.

My dressing-case was gone.

I do not think I should have been human, if I had not sworn audibly.

"What's the matter?" said the girl.

"Oh, nothing," said I. "Only, those wallahs with the hose aren't the only fools here to-night. Let's—let's get out of this, shall we?"

We fought our way out of the press.

As we emerged—

"I thought you said you had a dressing-case," said the girl.

"So I had," said I. "And now somebody else has one. In fact, as far as I can see, I'm only a pair of trousers up on you. But then your coat's longer."

"You don't mean to say"

"Yes, I do," said I. "And, what's more, I'm not going to complain, because I bought it. Anyone who likes to deposit an expensive-looking dressing-case in the middle of a crowd like that deserves what he gets. But don't tell anyone. I'm going to say it was burned."

The girl began to laugh helplessly.

"And now," said I, "I'm really quite sick of myself; so let's talk about you. Are you alone here?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't you know a Bank or anything?"

She shook her dark head.

"I was only passing through," she said.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"And you?" said the girl.

I reflected. Then—

"I'm going to take you," I said, "to another hotel. You must go to bed and to sleep. And, as soon as the shops are open, I'll get you some things."

We started to walk slowly towards another hotel.

"This is all wrong," said the girl suddenly. "Utterly wrong. And yet"—she looked me full in the face—"I'm going to accept your offer. I'm rather independent, you see; and I don't want to get tied up with a helpful crowd. If you'll come in good time to-morrow, I'll have a list"

"What a joy it is," I said thankfully, "to meet a sensible child."

"—but you mustn't think that I make a habit of letting strange men choose my stockings."

There was a moment's silence.

Then—

"I'm glad of that," I said gravely. "Very glad. And, to tell you the truth, I'm not in the habit of choosing stockings for strange girls."

After a little—

"I didn't mean to be ungracious," she said slowly. "You're being very good to me."

"Nonsense," said I. "It's pure fellow-feeling. Hang it all, if the nude can't care for the nude"

"How," said the girl uncertainly, "are you going to get money?"

"I shall go to a Bank," said I, "and ask them to wire to London. If I show them my car, they'll probably lend me enough to buy us some clothes, but we shan't be able to leave before to-morrow. Can you wait till then?"

The girl nodded.

"I was going to Lyons," she said: "but now I must go about. I live with my brothers near Rouen."

"That's my way," said I. "So, if your car is out of action, I'll drive you home."

"Oh, I can go by train."

"As you please," said I. "I want you to do what you want."

As we came to the hotel I was seeking—

"Tell me," said the girl. "Why are you doing all this?"

I thought for a moment. Then—

"Because I like you," I said.

When, after viewing the Rolls, the manager of the Bank I had approached, offered to lend me two hundred and fifty francs against the car, I told him to go to the devil and borrowed ten thousand from the proprietor of the garage.

Then I repaired to the hotel at which I had left the girl.

A note was awaiting me.




 * Please buy me the things I have written down. As for my clothes, I think the best way will be for you to go to some lingerie shop, explain the position and ask them to send a girl here. And then to a hat-shop and a dressmakers. And then, if you will come here later, I will tell you how much I owe. Oh, and a shoe-shop, please. I slept very well and am very comfortable.

Yours sincerely,.

Attached to the note was a list of what, I suppose, may be described as toilet requisites.

I did as I was bid: and when I had finished, I purchased such things as I needed and telegraphed to London for funds.

By the time I had bathed and changed, it was past midday, and, when I returned to the hotel, my lady was in the lounge.

"I've spent nearly six thousand francs," she said, putting out a small hand. "Is that very extravagant?"

"Men must hang together," said I. "In the interests of your future husband, I'm bound to say 'Yes.'"

"What I meant was—have you enough money? Or must I buy a cheaper frock?"

"Not for worlds," said I admiringly. "I'd rather go without my lunch."

I meant that. She looked exquisite—a study in apple-green and white. I never would have believed that such raiment could come out of Blois.

I paid the bills, and we went out to look for her car. This we did not find; for the roof of its garage had fallen, and, to judge from the condition of a big Renault, which was protruding from the debris, it seemed likely that what was left of its fellows would not be worth taking up.

"And so to luncheon," said I, for I was afraid to ask if the car had been insured.

As we turned, I glanced at her, to see to my distress that she was half-way to tears.

Not knowing what else to do, I reviled the French police with savagery and presently had my reward in the shape of a little half-laugh.

"You're terribly insular," she said.

"I admit I dislike foreign peoples when they let my compatriots down."

"Moral, stay in your own country," she said.

"How can I," said I, "if my compatriots won't? I can't have them walking French streets in a night-gown and a good-looking coat."

Miss Landfall frowned.

"I think," she said, "that episode might be forgotten."

"It shall not be referred to," said I.

She tilted her chin.

It was a lovely day, and we lunched on a balcony, taking our time, for we had nothing to do.

Over the meal we seemed on the way to friendship, but, though in the main Miss Landfall was very charming, that that was a state which she was uneasy to enter seemed once or twice most clear. When, therefore, luncheon was over, I handed her two thousand francs, told her the name of the inn at which I was staying and, having sent for a taxi, escorted her back to her hotel.

At the door—

"If you want me, send for me," I said.

"Very well," she said. And then, "Thank you."

I lifted my hat and turned away.

I spent a most trying afternoon, walking the streets of Blois and returning to my inn at least once every half-hour to see if I was required.

I wanted to be required, very much. There was no reason why I should be: there were many why I should not. But, though I have lived an unusually solitary life and thriven upon it, on that July afternoon I did not want to be alone. Looking back, I think there is no doubt that I had already lost my heart, for, as I loafed to and fro, the picture of the girl, as I had first seen her, with the collar of fur fastened close about her throat and the flimsy night-gown floating about her slim, bare legs obsessed my mind, and the thought that, unless she summoned me, I should hardly see her again I found intolerable.

Yet, to exploit the obligation under which she lay to me was not to be thought of, and, in the end, I returned no more to my inn, but walked out into the country, because I made sure that, if she did summon me, it would be because she felt that, accepting my hospitality, she must make some return.

When I was six miles out, the thought that she might have need of me sent me into a sweat, and I turned and came back like a madman, for fear that she would send to find I had betrayed my trust.

Sure enough, a note was waiting.

I tore it open.


 * Miss Landfall requests the pleasure of Mr. Lacey's company at dinner at eight o'clock.

I replied, bathed and changed, as far as my wardrobe was permitting, in the excitement of a youth: and at ten minutes to eight I sent up my name.

All eyes were upon her, as she came down into the lounge, and I remember thinking that I must be but one of many that had fallen in love with so beautiful a thing.

Her features were lovely; and her gray eyes, steady and grave. She was tall and slim and moved easily. Her feet were very small, and she had chosen Court slippers, very simple, without any strap. She wore no jewellery, but I do not think the finest pearls could have enhanced such comeliness.

She smiled, when she saw me, like a pleased child: and that, I confess, did my heart good, for I was immediately certain that she had asked me to dinner, not of politeness, but because she did not want to be alone.

"Shall we dine where we lunched?" she said.

"If you please," said I.

As we left the taxi—

"And now you take over," she said, giving me back my notes. "I had to ask you, because you didn't ask me: but now we'll drop the mask, and I'll be the guest."

They found me some excellent Clicquot, and we dined very well: and I was in the sixth heaven and soaring from that, when all of a sudden at coffee she brought me clean down to earth.

"You'll let me drive you to Rouen?" I had said eagerly.

She hesitated and then laughed.

"Let me send the money," she said.

For a moment it was in my mind to call for the bill and leave the table. The insult was so uncalled for and, I think, undeserved. Then I remembered how she had smiled when she saw me, and I sat where I was. But the blood was up in my face, and I saw that her colour was high.

"Tell me something," I said. "And remember that I'm a plain man who's heard a lot about women, but known very few, so that I can't play any game, but only speak as I feel."

"Go on," she said.

"Do I seem to you the sort of man who would use an advantage which chance had put into his hands?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"I've never really considered the point," she said.

"Consider it now," said I.

Her colour deepened. Then she looked me full in the eyes.

"I'm not accustomed to be ordered," she said.

"Nor I to be insulted," said I.

There was a long silence.

At length—

"I withdraw what I said," she said quietly. "And I beg your pardon. If you knew more of women, you would know that I should never have spoken to you, if I had not known that I was safe in your hands. If, after this, you will be so good as to drive me to Rouen, I shall be very grateful."

That was so very handsome that for one mad moment I thought of kissing her hand.

Instead—

"I don't understand you," I said shakily.

"That," she said, smiling, "is a very common complaint."

I pointed to a bill, which hung from the balustrade.

"There's a dance at the Chateau to-night," I said. "Supposing we went."

Her eyes lighted.

"I'd—I'd like to go," she said tremulously, "On one condition."

"What's that? " said I.

"I'll tell you to-morrow."

"Good enough," said I, and called for the bill.

Some Frenchmen were in evening dress, but I think my suit looked as well as any of theirs, and all of the women looked graceless beside my tall, dark girl.

I think she enjoyed the evening, and I know I did.

In the dark of the garden I put her hand to my lips: she did not try to prevent me, but her fingers were very cold.

And at half -past eleven I took her back to her hotel.

My money arrived the next morning, and we left for Rouen at noon.

We lunched by the way and had crossed the Seine by five.

Then she asked me to stop the car, and I did so seven miles from the city at the top of a winding hill.

"The condition is this," she said. "That you will say 'Goodbye' at Rouen and never make any attempt to see me again."

I sat very still.

"I'm mad about you," I said slowly. "I think you know that. I've had quite a good life so far—a very good life. But I never had any light in it, until you came. Must you take this away?"

She did not answer at once, but sat more still than I, staring through the wind-screen on to the dusty road.

Then—

"Yes," she breathed.

"You're not married?"

She shook her head.

"Then let me plead my suit. Let me come back in six weeks and plead my suit. Because we met so strangely, is that any reason"

"None," she said quickly. "But please give me your word."

At last—

"All right," I said thickly.

As I started the engine, she burst into tears.

For a quarter of an hour or more she sobbed in my arms, and, when at last I kissed her, she put her arms round my neck.

"But you promise?" she whispered. "You promise!"

"If it's your will, Diana."

"Yes, dear."

I set her down at an hotel in the Rue Jeanne d'Arc.

She thanked me gently and gave me her little hand.

Then she turned and walked up the flagged pavement, whilst I stood, hat in hand, looking after her, in a mad hope that she would turn. But she did not so much as look back, but passed out of my sight into the busy hall.

Then I got into the car and drove on up out of Rouen, like a man possessed.

Two days later I received the money she owed me by her cheque on a London Bank, No letter accompanied this, but only a sheet of note-paper, upon which were pencilled the words With my love.

"It's the queerest job," said George Lustre. "Difficult, delicate, dangerous, and you'll only be paid by results."

"Rot the pay," said I. "Tell me its shape."

George looked at me rather hard, wondering, I fancy, how I had come to grow testy, for I used to be easy-going, and nothing was ever supposed to be able to put me out.

"You don't look yourself," said he.

"I'm not," said I. "I'm sick—of nothing to do. And now teach me how to get well."

George rubbed his nose reflectively.

"It's like this," he said. "By way of economy, England has cut down her coast-guards till they practically don't exist. You remember the race?"

"Perfectly," said I. "Fine, bearded fellows, with a spyglass under the arm and a trim, whitewashed cottage in a bight of the cliff."

"That's right," said George. "Well, they've gone because, when they were there, they had nothing to do. Smuggling was dead. And, but for the duty on silk, I think they might have been spared."

"You mean..."

"I mean," said George, "that, thanks to the absence of the coast-guards, silk's being run into England for all that it's worth. And it's worth a good deal to-day. Take silk stockings alone: they're light, they're a speciality of France, and the modern English girl would far rather have them than bread. Very well. I act for certain people—big people, whose identity you may imagine, but I'm not free to disclose: and this silk-running business is making them tired."

"Naturally," said I.

"But the trouble is this. It's not a job you can tackle from this side of the Channel alone. And the French police will not help. They say they will, but they don't—because they're not going to stop any money which comes into France. We've tried using private police, but they're absurdly expensive and out of their depth."

"That I can believe," said I. "You want me to take it on?"

"I lay it before you," said George. "I don't think it's work you need shy at, because England's silk industry is like a poor, sick man that's trying to rise, and these infernal smugglers are helping to hold him down."

"I agree," said I heartily. "It's inexcusable. Do you give me a free hand?"

"Absolutely," said George. "But, of course, we can't recognise you. You'll be doing the work, but you won't appear. When everything's ready, you'll call the Revenue in and they'll get all the praise. That's on this side of the Channel. On the other, when you've located a depot beyond all doubt, upon our request the French will be bound to act. The question of payment doesn't seem to interest you, so I'll make the obvious remark that you won't lose by putting this smuggling down and leave it there."

"The Revenue wallahs will let me come and go?"

"My dear Bertram," said George, "you'll become their patron saint."

"Then that's settled," said I. "I'll make my preparations, and, when I'm ready to start, I'll let you know."

With that, I left him, declining his offer of luncheon and, I fear, hardly thanking him for his interest, for I was wild to take up this strange occupation, in the hope of crowding the passionate business of Blois out of my life.

Of this, to be frank, I had but little hope: but I had been hit so hard that something had to be done. Already I slept very ill and, when I slumbered, I dreamed. Memory rode me on a merciless rein. It would not have been one hundredth part so bad, if I had not had reason to suspect that Diana Landfall cared, that she had sent me away against her will. This was the bit and spur that tortured me. I sought no reasons: the fact was shocking enough. And I was terribly certain that we had done the wrong thing. In her mysterious way Fate had brought us together, because it was good that we should meet: and together we had thrown in her face that lovely gift.

And, when I say that I had never looked twice upon any woman before, I do not think it will be found surprising that I was beside myself.

Five months had gone by, and I was unknown, yet feared.

By friends and enemies alike, we had come to be called 'The Court Cards'—in a way a misnomer, for we were six in number, myself and my five men. Yet the name served, and, after a while, we each used a card as his badge. Mine was the King of Spades, my lieutenant's the Queen of Clubs, and the other four shared the Knaves.

We had not stamped out the silk-running, for we were but six, and it was a profitable game; but we had reduced it by half and from Dunkirk to Ushant there was not a smuggler that did not detest our name.

George Lustre was radiant: the Revenue officers hung, like dogs, upon our lips: and I was a miserable man.

That my work had brought me to Rouen increased my wretchedness, and I would not have walked along the Rue Jeanne d' Arc, though it had been Smuggler's Row.

However, I had no cause to go by that way, for my lodging was in a poor quarter of the city and, indeed, I was only there because the bigger the town, the easier may you lie hid, and I was to prove a chateau not far from Dieppe.

This had stood empty for years, but, when, two days before, I had visited the property, with an ordinary 'order to view,' its caretakers, man and wife, had done what they could to set me against the place. I do not think that I should have seen their cunning, had I been indeed a possible purchaser: but that I was not, and I had half expected that they did not want the place sold. It was a rambling mansion, and no one who was not suspicious could ever have told whether or no he had been shown the whole of the house; but I had counted the windows, whilst I was viewing the rooms, and, when I strolled round the building, I had counted another eight. And there were other signs, which I had learned to look for, that the place was being covertly used.

I had no doubt it was a depot. The coast was but ten miles away, and we had already marked down a swift, sea-going launch.

In fact, all was in train. It only remained to connect the launch with the chateau; and that we were to do this night. Once that had been done, the launch would be taken red-handed upon the English coast, and at the same moment the chateau would be raided by the French.

Satisfactorily to establish such connection was often difficult. For one thing, before the French could be approached, this had to be proved beyond all shadow of doubt, and no assumption, however reasonable, was ever entertained: for another, it was vital that the smugglers should not for one instant suspect that we were at hand. Again, we had to be careful to vary our stratagems, for, once we had struck, the word went round like wildfire, and to repeat some successful, but recognizable ruse would have been to court failure.

Now a car was, of course, always used to take the silk from the depot down to the sea, and, if we could identify the car that had left a depot as the one which within the hour was feeding a launch, that was evidence against the depot which nobody could possibly contest. But, without betraying our presence, this was most hard to do, for the cars ran without any lights and were driven with the utmost vigilance, so that, though we might see one leave, to attempt to follow it up was out of the question.

Yet we had devised a system, which, when we were able to employ it, worked very well.

As it was leaving its depot, one of the Court Cards would mark a wheel-cap of the car with a dash of red paint. This badge it would carry to the coast, and there, while the business of lading the launch was going on, another Court Card would first touch the wheel-cap with a handkerchief and then, clean the cap with spirit so that no trace at all of the paint remained. Of course, he could use no light, but, if, when examined later, the handkerchief was stained red, the connection we sought to establish was plainly proved.

It was most important that the tell-tale smear upon the wheel-cap should be removed: if we failed to remove it, not only would its subsequent appearance arouse the smugglers' suspicions and argue the wisdom of closing their depot at once, but our precious system itself would be betrayed and so could be used no more.

As a rule, the hardest part of the business was to badge the car, and that I did always myself, taking one Knave to help me, while the Queen and the other three Knaves were between them keeping the coast.

The night was fine and cold, and a gentle breeze was shepherding big clouds across the sky. Too often for my liking—and I dare say for that of the smugglers—the moon shone, clear and luminous, but now and again a long rack would blot it out and for that time would make the night seem darker than pitch itself.

The second entrance to the chateau was approached by a little lane from which a second drive curled between ranks of old elms up to the stable-yard. Old, iron gates closed this drive to the lane, but, though the chain that locked them might not have been undone for twenty years, I had marked the grease upon their hinges, and I knew that, when they swung open, they would do so without a sound. And that is not the way of gates that are never used. Besides, I had seen the mark of a tire in the little lane.

Now whether the gates would be opened, before the car left the stables, I could not tell: but, in any event, so narrow was the lane that the turning out of the drive was very sharp and would have to be taken slowly and with the greatest care. My plan was, therefore, to lie hid within the gates and to paint the off hind wheel-cap either while the gates were being opened, or as the car was turning into the lane.

When it was dark, I left Rouen, taking the road to the coast.

We were still five miles from the chateau and had not yet reached the point at which we were intending to leave the car, when one of my headlights failed.

I had descended, to see what the trouble might be, when a car which was coming towards me began to slow down and, when it was almost abreast of me, came to rest. Very civilly its driver inquired if I needed his help. I thanked him and told him 'No.' As we were speaking, another car passed between us, going my way. Its driver slowed down, in order to make the passage, but did not stop, and I remember mentally contrasting his manner with the courtesy of the first. Then I re-entered my car and went my way.

Four hours later, after a weary vigil in long, wet grass, at the edge of the second drive, my patience was at length rewarded.

A girl approached from the stables and opened the old, iron gates. As she did so, an engine started, back in the stable-yard.

The girl passed into the lane, and I heard the car enter the drive.

Mercifully, the moon was hidden, and at once I moved to the gate.

The car approached, but its driver appeared to be awaiting some sign.

Then a torch flashed from the lane.

Instantly the car slid forward, and, as it turned out of the gateway, I swept my paint-brush across the big, flat cap of its off hind wheel.

I had no time to withdraw, but lay still, flat on my face; and, as she was closing the gates, the girl's foot touched my chin, and, had her skirt been less short, it must have brushed my head.

And there our run of luck came to an end, for the next morning my lieutenant reported that the car had been unladen in the open, behind a barn and that, while one smuggler kept strict watch, the moon had lighted the business from first to last, so that to come any nearer than twenty-five yards had been out of the question.

This was a bad failure, but, though I had not much hope, I determined to wait at Rouen, and see if the depot was closed. It was just possible that the meaning of the paint on the wheel-cap, though this was bound to be noticed, might not be understood, and that, if we bided our time, we might have another chance.

So I issued my orders accordingly and went to bed.

On the following day I had just emerged from the cathedral, where, for want of something better to do, I had been observing the tombs, when I noticed some confusion where a street ran into the square.

The horse of a cart was jibbing and, since the French are vile horsemasters and there was traffic to spare, was like to do some damage before he had recovered his wits. Indeed, as I came up, the cart was within a hand's-breadth of a big, black car which was standing unattended in front of a shop.

To save a collision was impossible, but I managed to quiet the poor animal, before the cart had done more than damage a wing.

Then the police came up and told me that I was to blame for leaving my car.

"It's not my car," I said, "but whoever owns it has a claim against that man." I pointed to the driver of the horse. "And if you do your duty, you'll take his name and address."

At that, they shrugged their shoulders and turned away, and I was examining the wing, when the wheel-cap caught my eye.

Clean across this lay a smear of bright red paint.

I looked up to see Miss Landfall on the pavement beyond.

"Diana!" I cried. "Diana!" And took off my hat.

She regarded me steadily from the farther side of the car.

"I see you're a man of your word," she said.

I stared at her.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do not know," said I.

She made a gesture of contempt.

"You made me a promise," she said.

"Which I have most faithfully kept."

Her gray eyes narrowed.

"On Monday, under pretence of house-hunting, you questioned the servants of a place near which I live: two nights ago I passed you in the road a mile or so from my home: this morning I come upon you, examining my car."

I put a hand to my head.

"Your car?" I said dazedly.

The scorn went out of her eyes, and a puzzled look came in.

"Didn't you know it was mine?"

With my eyes on the smear of red paint—

"No," I said slowly, "I did not know it was yours." Then I returned to her, and for a long moment we looked each other in the eyes.

Then—

"Why are you here?" she said.

I took off my wrist-watch and passed it, face uppermost, across the car.

For a moment she stared at it. Then she put out her hand.

She looked at the face of the watch and then at me.

"Turn it over," said I.

On the back, well done in enamel, was the King of Spades.

I thought she would never look up.

When she did, she was very pale.

"I understand," she said quietly. And then, "And I beg your pardon."

I bowed, and the wrist-watch passed.

"Will you give me a lift?" I said.

"As you please."

I entered the car and she took her seat at the wheel.

"To the police-station?" she said, with half a laugh.

"No," said I. "To the hotel, where I set you down. If you will allow me, I should like to give you lunch."

"You will please understand, Diana, three very important things. The first is that I am responsible to no man and that whether I call in the police or do not call them in is entirely my affair. I am in receipt of no pay and under no obligation. Secondly, whatever the result of this interview, your depot is going to close. Thirdly, you are free to get up from this table and go your way."

"Thank you," she said. "Go on."

"I take it," I said, "that the cat is out of the bag."

"What do you mean?"

"I assume that you sent me away because you didn't wish me to know how you were engaged."

She nodded.

"I suppose so," she said wearily. "When we met I was going to Lyons, to pick up some stuff."

"Why are you doing this?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"My two brothers and I have got to live. We were bred to be rich, but our father married again and, when he died, we were left. They tried to get work in England for eighteen months, and then I sold my jewels and we started running silk. I'm not defending myself: I'm stating facts."

"Did you think I'd think less of you, Diana, if I knew the truth?"

"I didn't think of you at all," said Diana. "But I didn't want any odd stranger to know my job."

"Naturally enough," said I, and fell to eating.

For the rest of the meal we spoke hardly at all.

Coffee was brought us in the lounge.

"How old are your brothers?" I said.

"Thirty and thirty-two."

I frowned.

"England's no place for men of their age," said I. "And France is worse." I picked up a sheet of paper and wrote down George Lustre's name and his City address. "If they go to him," I continued, "one week from to-day and tell him they've closed your depot, he'll talk to them about Rhodesia and offer them two thousand apiece for the next five years. By that time, they should have made good: and, if they feel they must, in another five years they can begin to pay him back."

For a while she looked at the paper.

Then—

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you," I said. Then I called a waiter and paid my bill. When this was over, I rose. "And now will you excuse me?"

She stood up, nervously, twisting the paper in her hands and looking upon the ground.

"On Wednesday night," I said, "when you were closing the gates, you kicked me in the face. To-day you have done it again. Therefore I place a condition on the offer I have made. I shall remain in Rouen until I hear from Lustre that the depot is closed, but, if during that time, or at any time hereafter, you make any attempt to find me, the payments to be made to your brothers will instantly cease."

In silence we left the hotel and I put her into the car.

Then I lifted my hat and walked away.

Ten days had gone by before George Lustre wrote.

I drove to the chateau.

At the lodge the caretakers met me to say that Miss Landfall hoped I would go to the second gate.

As I got out, Diana stepped down the drive.

It was a magnificent morning, full of hoar-frost. She was all rosy and glowing, and her eyes were like gray stars.

For a moment we looked at each other, with the old, iron gates in between.

Then—

"Why did you send for me?" I said.

"I did not send for you."

"In effect, you did."

She did not answer me, but opened the gates.

"Why did you send for me, Diana?"

"Must I answer that question?"

"Yes."

She raised her beautiful head and looked at the sky.

"Because I love you," she whispered.