The girl's astonished gaze traveled from Medenham to the spick and span automobile. For the moment he had forgotten his role, and each word he uttered deepened her bewilderment, which grew stronger when she looked at the Mercury. The sleek coachwork and spotless leather upholstery, the shining brass fittings and glistening wings, every visible detail in fact, gave good promise of the excellence of the engine stowed away beneath the square bonnet. Evidently Miss Vanrenen had cultivated the habit of gathering information rapidly. "_This_ car?" she exclaimed, with a delightful lifting of arched eyebrows. "Yes, you will not be disappointed in it, I assure you. I am doing Simmonds a friendly turn in taking his place, so I hope the slight accident will not make any difference to your plans." "But--why has not Simmonds himself come to explain matters?" "He could not leave his car, which is in a side street off Piccadilly. He would have sent a note, but he remembered that you had never seen his handwriting, so, as a proof of my genuineness, he gave me your itinerary." Medenham produced a closely-written sheet of note-paper, which Miss Vanrenen presumably recognized. She turned to her stout companion, who had been summing up car and chauffeur with careful eyes since Medenham first spoke. "What do _you_ think, Mrs. Devar?" she said. When he heard the name, Medenham was so amazed that the last vestige of chauffeurism vanished from his manner. "You don't mean to say you are Jimmy Devar's mother?" he gasped. Mrs. Devar positively jumped. If a look could have slain he would have fallen then and there. As it was, she tried to freeze him to death. "Do I understand that you are speaking of Captain Devar, of Horton's Horse?" she said, aloof as an iceberg. "Yes," said he coolly, though regretting the lapse. He had stupidly brought about an awkward incident, and must remember in future not to address either lady as an equal. "I was not aware that my son was on familiar terms with the chauffeur fraternity." "Sorry, but the name slipped out unawares. Captain Devar is, or used to be, very easy-going in his ways, you know." "So it would seem." She turned her back on him disdainfully. "In the circumstances, Cynthia," she said, "I am inclined to believe that we ought to make further inquiries before we exchange cars, and drivers, in this fashion." "But what is to be done? All our arrangements are made--our rooms ordered--I have even sent father each day's address. If we cancel everything by telegraph he will be alarmed." "Oh, I did not mean that," protested the lady hurriedly. It was evident that she hardly knew what to say. Medenham's wholly unexpected query had unnerved her. "Is there any alternative?" demanded Cynthia ruefully, glancing from one to the other. "It is rather late to hire another car to-day, I admit----" began Mrs. Devar.