"Take care, Gay," Frank cried quaveringly after her, as she squeezed in beside Rensslaer, and the next moment, her host's hands twisted into the loops of the reins, they were sweeping through the silent streets, and out on to the open road, the air whistling in their ears, the dust striking Gay's eyes and cheeks like pellets, the country almost indistinguishable as they flew past, and the sensation so thrilling that she surrendered herself to it in complete enjoyment. Smoothly as a sleigh on snow, rode the frail vehicle of less than a hundred pounds, and record-makers both, were the powerful steeds that guided by the imperturbable driver with arms outstretched, swift as the wind, swept up hill and down dale, only once beaten by a motor that was afterwards overtaken, and then Rensslaer eased his steeds, remarking that they had covered five miles in twelve minutes. By then they were in his park, and the horses went more quietly, so that Gay had leisure to observe the sylvan beauty of the landscape surrounding Elsinore, to notice the herds of deer visible in every direction, and also his Indian fighting cocks, who roamed his fields in intermittent warfare with the old English game. Somehow Gay felt that all were sharers in that instinct of friendliness which seemed to inspire his relations, not only with all his dumb retainers, but with his fellow-humans as well. Original in his house as in everything else, Elsinore was an extended copy of a Russian peasant's cottage. Made of logs, with a great deal of carving in wood, and a big Russian stove in each room, the furniture was covered with linen, embroidered in blue and red by Russian peasants, the tiles of the stoves being incised in dark blue, red, emerald green, and gold with white, in true peasant style. Simplicity was evidently his rule of life, but one room was filled to the ceiling with books, and to this the Professor naturally gravitated on his arrival. Leaving him perfectly happy among those rare editions of which at odd times Rensslaer was an inveterate collector, Gay and her host sauntered through the quaint house, singularly modest for the far-spreading park surrounding it, but containing many trophies of his skill, and to her utter astonishment, in other realms than that of sport. The cases full of gold and silver medals, of stars and decorations, interested her very little, nor did Rensslaer trouble to explain that none of those prizes were for horses, but for a domain in which he stood alone as champion of the world. But she came to a full stop before the figure, raised on a pedestal, of a girl with strange barbaric head-dress above her sweet face, hands folded on breast, and the drapery a little blown away from the exquisite line of back and hips, and "Exhibited Allied Artists, 190-" written below. "That's La Russie," he said. "The colouring and tinting are an exact reproduction of the actual dress and jewels."