She drew a little sigh of relief. For a moment her little white fingers rested upon his strong brown hand, the tenseness passed from her manner, it was as though she found something composing in his strength. 'I have been travelling for forty-eight hours,' she said, speaking under her breath, 'and I had an escape, a very narrow escape, in Belgium. You do not want to understand everything, do you?' 'Nothing more than you choose,' he replied. 'I am your Man Friday.' 'Listen, then. Your car--it is in order?' 'Perfect. I came up from Bath the day before yesterday--sixty miles on the level and never changed speeds.' 'How long would it take you to get me down to the east coast?' she asked eagerly. 'What part?' She hesitated. 'A small place called Blakeney, between Sheringham and Wells.' He figured it out. 'Let me see,' he said,--'two hours to Newmarket, two more to Fakenham, saving a little on both runs if we escaped a puncture--say four hours and a half, Suzanne.' 'And your car?' 'In the garage, five minutes away in a taxicab.' She breathed another sigh of relief. 'Now I shall eat some luncheon,' she declared. 'You will not mind if we commit ourselves to rather a wild-goose adventure?' 'I shall enjoy it immensely,' he assured her, 'if one can use such a word at all these days.' He ordered some wine and watched the colour come back to her cheeks. Towards the end of the meal, however, she glanced often at the clock. He read her thoughts, signed his bill and stood up. 'I am going upstairs to my room for a moment,' she said briskly. 'Will you have a taxicab waiting?' 'Of course!' She was gone barely ten minutes. When she came down she carried a small travelling case and wore a thick veil. He hurried her into the taxi, drove to the garage, and in less than half-an-hour London lay behind them, and the car was gathering speed at every moment. They passed through Finchley and Potter's Bar, slowed up through St. Albans, and settled down at racing speed, northwards. Suzanne opened her eyes. 'I am having a delicious rest,' she murmured. 'Where would you like some tea?' he inquired. 'Not yet. Push on as far as you can,' she begged. 'What time shall we reach Fakenham?' He glanced at the clock on the splashboard. 'If you really like to run right through,' he said, 'you shall be there by six o'clock.' She patted the hand which gripped the steering wheel. 'You dear person!' she exclaimed softly. 'Now I close my eyes again. I think I will sleep a little. Until I reached my rooms at twelve o'clock to-day I had not had my clothes off for two days. This air and the rest are wonderful.'