"For heaven's sake," he cried, "talk reasonably! Where are we going? What town is this? Do you realise the awful situation we are in? I shall go raving mad if this thing keeps up much longer!" She laid a small gloved hand on his knee and spoke calmly to the quivering youth. "Listen," she said, "I do not see that we can do better than go on to the house. It is a very big wedding and we can mix very easily in the crowd if only I can get another dress--or a long coat, somewhere. Perhaps I can. Especially now, when hardly any one is here yet. Then you can get hold of a carriage and we can drive to the station. We can at least get something to eat, for I know how hungry you are. Nobody knows who half the people are at a wedding--it is the safest place in the world for--for----" "For escaping criminals," he concluded bitterly, yet with an unreasonable lightening of heart. "It is true, nobody will know me. And perhaps I can find out where we are." "And who we are," she reminded him, smiling kindly. He was amazed at the almost maternal gentleness, the sweet poise of her manner. She might have been the very bridesmaid she simulated. "Did any one speak to you?" he asked curiously. She shook her head. "I was so late. I think I am _her_ friend, and they don't seem to know each other so very well. The first four are friends, but my four, no. Still, I can't very well see them again, for she will ask about me--oh, who can this be?" They had turned in at a different gate from the one by which they had left and were following a driveway that led along a series of stables and offices. From one of these a house-maid ran out, stopping the carriage with a gesture. At her embarrassed request Antony opened the carriage door. "I was to ask the first one that came by this way, if you please-- you are an usher, aren't you, sir?"--Antony nodded grimly--"to go to the laundry, right here, sir, and pick out the best arches. They're in the tubs. The other gentlemen will help carry them in. Mr. Richard thought the ladies would know best about the arches," she added shyly, Smiling graciously, Nette stepped lightly from the coupe, and as Antony followed her she nodded to the coachman, "You may go back now," she said, "we will walk up to the house in a few moments." He touched his hat and drove on, the house-maid hastened in the same direction, and Nette, followed by her companion, stepped into the laundry. There indeed were the arches, twined with purple and white sweet peas; the dim, damp room reeked and bloomed with them. As they confronted each other uncertainly, a high, excited voice floated toward them, evidently nearing rapidly. "We must have every carriage guarded and the trains watched, that's all. They must be in the house, and they had no luggage, so how can they change their clothes? That dress will mark the woman absolutely. They will try for a motor, of course."