I am ashamed to confess that the longer I considered the matter, the more plausible this view of the situation appeared to me. By the time we succeeded in starting the engine, after cranking for nearly half an hour, I was so consumed by wrath over the scurvy trick she had played upon us that I swore she should not enter my castle if I could prevent it; moreover, I would take fiendish delight in dumping her confounded luggage into the Danube. I confided my views to Britton who was laboriously cranking the machine and telling me between grunts that the "bloody water 'ad got into it," and we both resorted to painful but profound excoriations without in the least departing from our relative positions as master and man: he swore about one abomination and I another, but the gender was undeviatingly the same. We also had trouble with the lamps. At last we were off, Britton at the wheel. I shall not describe that diabolical trip home. It is only necessary to say that we first lost our way and went ten or twelve kilometers in the wrong direction; then we had a blow-out and no quick-detachable rim; subsequently something went wrong with the mud-caked machinery and my unfortunate valet had to lie on his back in a puddle for half an hour; eventually we sneaked into the garage with our trembling Mercedes, and quarrelled manfully with the men who had to wash her. "Great heaven, Britton!" I groaned, stopping short in my sloshy progress down the narrow street that led to the ferry. He looked at me in astonishment. I admit that the ejaculation must have sounded weak and effeminate to him after what had gone before. "What is it, sir?" he asked, at once resuming his status as a servant after a splendid hiatus of five hours or more in which he had enjoyed all of the by-products of equality. "Poopendyke!" I exclaimed, aghast. "I have just thought of him. The poor devil has been waiting for us three miles up the river since midnight! What do you think of that!" "No such luck, sir," said he, grumpily. "Luck! You heartless rascal! What do you mean by that?" "I beg pardon, sir. I mean to say, he could sit in the boat 'ouse and twiddle 'is thumbs at the elements, sir. Trust Mr. Poopendyke to keep out of the rain." "In any event, he is still waiting there for us, wet or dry. He and the two big Schmicks." I took a moment for thought. "We must telephone to the castle and have Hawkes send Conrad out with word to them." I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past seven. "I suppose no one in the castle went to bed last night. Good Lord, what a scene for a farce!" We retraced our steps to the garage, where Britton went to the telephone. I stood in the doorway of the building, staring gloomily, hollow-eyed at the--well, at nothing, now that I stop to think of it. The manager of the place, an amiable, jocund descendant of Lazarus, approached me.