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of the coffee-drinking chauffeurs got up and cranked our motor, with some joke about a pretty woman's need of a strong arm. I stepped inside and we started, Chu-Chu being by that time near the end of the street.

My titled chauffeuse certainly knew her work. As soon as Chu-Chu was around the corner she darted ahead, lagging back when he came in sight again. As it was very hot and the hour for déjeuner, there was but little traffic, but unless they led us a chase of some length I did not think that they would suspect they were being followed. It is nothing unusual for two taxicabs to be running the same course at about the same speed; in fact, many chauffeurs drop into the habit of gauging speed by the chap ahead, as this simplifies traffic and tends to an evenly moving procession.

We spun out through the Chaussée de la Muette and into the Bois, past the Auteuil racecourse and, striking the boulevard that leads to the Boulogne gate, followed it straight out. Here Rosalie let Chu-Chu get so far ahead that I was worried.

"Don't lose him," said I through the tube; for the Countess' cab was fitted out with all the modern conveniences, even to flowers and cigar holder and a little red electric light. Chic was the word for it, inside and out. 191