“I do wish you were with us; there are such charming girls to be met and known--bright, well-bred, intellectual, and fascinating. I am in love with several of them myself. I hope we shall be back in Mount Street at the end of April; meanwhile we are sunning ourselves here. Take my advice, and give the vivacious Tottie notice, and try for nice country place with some wealthy old squire who is not _exigeant_ with respect to work, and would only require to be motored to the Sessions or to church; in such a place, you can lie perdue instead of flaring about town with Tottie and Co. I would be perfectly happy if you were here, dear old boy; the only drawback to my enjoyment is the fear that you are hard worked, and hard up! Bear this in mind, ‘Time and tide run through the longest day;’ in ten months you will be settled at Wynyard, and your _own_ master.” As it happened, there was no occasion for Wynyard to formally tender his resignation to Miss Toye. The morning after his interview with Mr. Masham, when he arrived at the garage where the car was kept, another chauffeur came up to him with a sympathetic grin upon his face. “Hullo, Jack--your car is took! There’s an execution in your missus’ flat, and the men came round ’ere first thing. Very nippy, wasn’t it?” “I don’t know what you are talking about,” rejoined Wynyard. He walked over to the place where the car was always garaged, and it was empty; everything was gone--even to the oil cans! “There, now, you see it’s a true bill,” said the other man, who had followed him. “Tottie Toye is broke; there was a great burst-up at the theatre, and she has cut it.” This was true. Wynyard now remembered that the last time he had driven Tottie from the hall there had been something of a scene at the stage door--loud talking, an eager crowd, and Mr. Cloake, very red and excited, had supported Tottie into the motor, apparently in hysterics and tears. He went round to the flat, and discovered that men were already in possession, busily making an inventory of its contents. Tottie had effected her escape with all her jewels, her best clothes, and her dog, and was reported to be at San Sebastian. It seemed to Wynyard that something was bound to happen to whoever employed him--one time it was a breakdown, now the bailiffs. Before he and his new employer went abroad, they spent several days at Brookwood, and here the new chauffeur was first introduced to the machine--a long, bare, business-looking car, built for speed, not comfort, and painted a dull slate colour. “She’s as ugly as she can stick!” admitted her owner; “but she runs sweetly and is a magnificent machine; has won three big races, a grand goer, and ab-so-lutely reliable!” Flying round the track at Brookwood she certainly bore out her reputation for speed; but as to whether she was absolutely reliable, remained to be proved. CHAPTER XXXI TAKING RISKS