Part 14

Nevertheless, Dick and I formed a theory that the new automobile, of which we had heard so many rumours, was actually in Biarritz; that it had been driven into the town after dark, and was now being kept by some friend of Carmona’s in a private garage. And if we were right in our conjectures, we felt we might take it as a sure sign that the Duke was not only planning an important tour, but was not forgetting a detail of precaution which could prevent my learning his intentions.

As we could not set a watch upon the chauffeur, we set a watch upon the Duke; and it was Ropes who, with considerable relish, undertook the task. I did not wish to bring a stranger into the affair; and Ropes I could trust as I trusted myself. Therefore Ropes it was who unobtrusively dogged Carmona’s footsteps from the time the Duke went out in the morning, up to the time he went in again at night.

Meanwhile, Dick took steps to become correspondent for The Daily Despatch of London, and The New York Recorder, the editors of which papers he knew personally. He spent a great deal of money in wiring long messages, but his reward was success, and, as he said, he was “proud of his job,” which he intended to carry out as faithfully as if writing impressions for newspapers were the business of his life.

Also, we got the car repainted; bought lamps of a different sort; ordered side baskets to be attached, of a red to match the new colour; had Dick Waring’s monogram, in execrable taste, put on the doors; while last and most important change of all, from being number A12,901, the automobile became, illegally but convincingly, M14,317. Cunningest device of all, Ropes changed the wheel-caps of my Gloria for those of a Frenzel, as like a Gloria as a Fiat is like a Mercédès; so that only an expert of much experience would know that the car was not a Frenzel.

A quick dryer was used, and in two days we were ready for anything. I still hoped for a letter from Monica, with some hints as to her mother’s plans, but nothing came; and when we had had a blank day, with no news of activity in the enemy’s camp, it was a relief to have Ropes arrive at the hotel in the morning just as I was dressed.

I knew the moment I saw his face that something exciting had happened.

“The Duke’s gone, my lord,” he reported; “gone in a dark grey, covered car; I couldn’t get near enough to make sure what it was, but it looks like a Lecomte. He’s this moment got off.”

“Not alone?”

“No, my lord. I’ll tell you exactly what took place. I was at the window in the little room I hired over a shop three days ago, in sight of the entrance gates of the Villa Isabella. It was just seven o’clock this morning when a smart, big grey car drove in, might be a forty horse, and of the Lecomte type. The chauffeur wore goggles, but his figure was like the fellow’s who came the other day to our garage. About half an hour later, out slipped the car again, the Duke driving, a lady sitting beside him, two other ladies in the tonneau, the chauffeur at the Duke’s feet, and a good deal of luggage on the roof. At the gate they turned as if to go to San Sebastian; and I came to let you know.”

“That’s right. Get ready at once for a start, and have the car here as soon as you can.”

“Car’s ready now, my lord, and so am I.”

“Good. But don’t ‘my lord’ me. Now that I’m Mr. George Smith that’s even more important to remember than in Trevenna days. And don’t forget that the car’s Mr. Waring’s car.”

“I won’t forget, sir.”

He was off to the garage, and I was knocking at Dick’s door.

Dick was tying his necktie. “Ready to start in five minutes,” said he.

“How did you guess what was up?”

“Your face, d’Artagnan.”

“Why d’Artagnan? Haven’t I a large enough variety of names already?”

“I’ve selected one suitable for the situation. D’Artagnan took upon himself a mission. So have you; and you’ll have as many difficulties to overcome before you fulfil it, if you do, as he had.”

“Nonsense. We’re starting out to keep in touch with another party of motorists.”

“In a country forbidden to one of us.”

“That one can look out for himself. If a lady in another motor should need someone to stand by her, we’re to be on the spot to stand by, that’s all.”

“Yes; that’s all,” said Dick, laughing. “And all that d’Artagnan had to do was to get hold of a few diamond studs which a lady wanted to wear at a ball. Sounds simple, eh? But d’Artagnan had some fun on the way, and I’d bet the last dollar in my pile we will. Hang this necktie! There; I’m ready. Have we time for coffee and a crust?”

VII

THE IMPUDENCE OF SHOWING A HANDKERCHIEF

Fifteen minutes later we were off.

I love driving my car, as I love the breath of life, and I’m conceited enough to fancy that no one else, not even Ropes, can get out of her what I can. Still, this was not destined to be precisely a pleasure trip, and prudence bade me give the helm to Dick. He is a good enough driver; and the car was his car now; I was but an insignificant passenger, with a case of visiting cards in his pocket, newly engraved with the name of Mr. George Smith. I sat on the front seat beside Dick, however, silently criticising his every move; Ropes was in the tonneau; such luggage as we had, on top.

It was scarcely eight o’clock, and there was so little traffic in the town that we did not need to trouble about a legal limit. We slipped swiftly along the rough white road to the railway station, past large villas and green lawns, and took the sharp turn to the right that leads out from the pleasant land of France straight to romantic Spain, the country of my dreams. We sped past houses that looked from their deep sheltering woods upon a silver lake, and away in the distance we caught glimpses of the sea. Before us were graceful, piled mountains, the crenelated mass of Les Trois Couronnes glittering with wintry diamonds. Against the morning sky, stood up, clear and cold, the cone of far La Rune.