"Not gone to London, you say? Then where the devil _has_ he gone to? A gentleman at the hotel, a French gentleman, who said he had met these--these persons with whom my son is gadding about the country, told me that they had left Bristol this morning for London, because a car that was expected to meet them here had broken down." Suddenly his lordship, a county magistrate noted for his sharpness, glanced at Simmonds. He marched round to the front of the car and saw that it was registered in London. He waved an accusing umbrella in air. "What car is this? Is this the motor that won't go? It seems to have reached Bristol all right? Now, my men, I must have a candid tale from each of you, or the consequences may be most disagreeable. You, I presume," and he lunged _en tierce_ at Simmonds, "have an employer of some sort, and I shall make it my business----" "This is my own car, my lord," said Simmonds stiffly. He could be stubborn as any member of the Upper House when occasion served. "Your lordship needn't use any threats. Just ask me what you like an' I'll answer, if I can." Fairholme, by no means a hasty man in the ordinary affairs of life, and only upset now by the unforeseen annoyances of an unusually disquieting mission, realized that he was losing caste. It was a novel experience to be rebuked by a chauffeur, but he had the sense to swallow his wrath. "Perhaps I ought to explain that I am particularly anxious to see Lord Medenham," he said more calmly. "I left London at eight o'clock this morning, and it is most irritating to have missed him by a few minutes. I only wish to be assured as to his whereabouts, and, of course, I have no reason to believe that any sort of responsibility for my son's movements rests with you." "That's all right, my lord," said Simmonds. "Viscount Medenham was very kind to me last Wednesday. I had a first-rate job, and was on my way to the Savoy Hotel to take it up, when a van ran into me an' smashed the transmission shaft. His lordship met me in Down Street, an' offered to run my two ladies to Epsom an' along the south coast for a day or two while I repaired damages. I was to turn up here--an' here I am--but it suited his arrangements better to go on with the tour, an' that is all there is to it. A bit of a joke, I call it." "Yes, my lord, that's hit hexactly," put in Dale, with a nervous eagerness that demanded the help of not less than two aspirates. The Earl managed to restrain another outburst. "Nothing to cavil at so far," he said with forced composure. "The only point that remains is--where is Lord Medenham now?" "Somewhere between here an' Gloucester, my lord," said Simmonds. "Gloucester--that is not on the way to London!" No reply; neither man was willing to bell the cat. Finding Simmonds a tough customer, Fairholme tackled Dale. "Come, come, this is rather absurd," he cried. "Fancy my son's chauffeur jibbing at my questions! Once and for all, Dale, where shall I find Lord Medenham to-night?"