Part 13

“I mean that it won’t be prudent for either Casa Triana’s or Chris Trevenna’s car to follow his, wherever he means to go.”

“What, you’ll give up—”

“Is it likely?”

“You’re getting beyond me.”

“What I want is to stay with you, in your car.”

“Wish I had one!” said Dick.

“You’re going to have the loan of one. Would a grey or a red car suit you best?”

“I see. Red, please. They say red paint dries quickest.”

We both laughed.

“Your red car must have new lamps,” I went on, “and a new number, and any other little things that can be put on in a hurry. And you’d better get a passport if you haven’t one. Gentlemen touring in foreign lands are sometimes subjected to cross-questionings which might be inconvenient unless they’ve plenty of red tape up their sleeves.”

“I’ll lay in a stock. How would you like me to be the accredited correspondent, for the Spanish wedding festivities, of a newspaper or two?”

“Rattling good idea. Could you work it?”

“Easy as falling off a log, or puncturing a tyre. I’ll arrange by telegraph, London and New York.”

“Grand old chap.”

“Thanks. Better wait till I’ve done something. What about your part in the show?”

“A humble friend, accompanying the important newspaper correspondent in his travels.”

“That’s all right. But the Trevenna business is played out.”

“A new travelling name’s as easy to fit as a travelling-coat.”

“Not quite, unless you can match it with a new travelling face.”

“Luckily Carmona knows Romeo’s face better than mine. And, anyhow, a motoring get-up can be next door to a disguise.”

“That’s true. Behind goggles Apollo hasn’t much advantage over Apollyon, and you can develop a moustache. Yes. I think we can work it as far as that goes. But one’s always heard that Spanish roads are impossible.”

“They’ll be no worse for us than for Carmona,” I argued. “Besides, most of the best known books about Spain are out of date. The King has made motoring fashionable lately, and there must have been some attempts to get the roads into passable condition.”

“I happened to hear an American who’s here with a sixty horse-power Panhard, wanting to go to Seville, say to another fellow that he’d been warned he couldn’t get beyond Madrid.”

“I’ve never bothered much about warnings in my life. I’ve generally gone ahead, and found out things for myself.”

“We’ll continue on the same lines. And, anyhow, wherever we go, we’re sure of a leader; our friend the enemy.”

It was next in order to find out whether the Duke really had brought an automobile to Biarritz; but try as we might, we could learn nothing. Inquiries were made at the railway stations, both at Bayonne and Biarritz, as to whether an automobile had lately been shipped through; but as it happened, no car of any description had arrived by rail in either direction during the last fortnight.

All the principal garages of Bayonne and Biarritz were visited also, in the hope of finding a mysterious car which might be the Duke of Carmona’s; but there was not one of which we could not trace the ownership. We then sent to Bordeaux, and even to St. Jean de Luz; but in both cases our errand was vain. If Carmona had an automobile in the South of France, it was well hidden.

As for the chauffeur who had inspected my car, and afterwards met Carmona at another garage, he had disappeared, apparently, into thin air.