"Well, you had better cross by an early boat to-morrow and bring it here. You understand all the preliminaries, I suppose? Find out from the Customs people what deposit is necessary, and come to me for the money." So it happened that when Medenham was able to take his first drive in the open air, the Mercury awaited him and Cynthia at the door of the hotel. It positively sparkled in the sunlight; never was car more spick and span. The brasswork scintillated, each cylinder was rhythmical, and a microscope would not have revealed one speck of dust on body or upholstery. * * * * * On a day in July--for everybody agreed that not even a marriage should be allowed to interfere with the Scottish festival of St. Grouse--that same shining Mercury with the tonneau decorously cased in glass for the hour, drew up at the edge of a red carpet laid down from curb to stately porch of St. George's, Hanover Square, and Dale turned a grinning face to the doorway when Viscount Medenham led his bride down the steps through a shower of rice and good wishes. Wedding breakfasts and receptions are all "much of a muchness," as the Mad Hatter said to another Alice, and it was not until the Mercury was speeding north by west to Scarland Towers, "lent to the happy pair for the honeymoon" while Betty took the children to recuperate at the seaside, that Cynthia felt she was really married. "I have a bit of news for you," said her husband, taking a letter from his pocket. "I received a letter by this morning's post. A heap of others remain unopened till you and I have time to go through them; but this one caught my attention, and I read it while I was dressing." He had an excellent excuse for putting his arm round her waist while he held the open sheet so that both might peruse it at the same time. It ran: MY DEAR VISCOUNT--Of course I meant to kill you, but fate decided otherwise. Indeed, with my usual candor, which by this time you may have learned to admire, I may add that only the special kind of dog's luck which attaches itself to members of my family, saved me from being killed by you. But that is ancient history now. I am glad to hear that your wound was not really serious. There was no sense in merely crippling you--my only chance lay in procuring your untimely demise. Having failed, however, I want to tell you, with the utmost sincerity, that I never had the slightest intention of carrying out my abominable threat in regard to the fair lady who is now Viscountess Medenham. Were you other than a heavy-witted and thick-skinned Briton, you would have known that I was goading you into issuing a challenge. This piece of information is my wedding present; it is all I can give, because, metaphorically speaking, I haven't a sou!