"Yes," he rejoined. "It is awkward; but you can't spend the night in the streets; you must have somewhere to sleep." "Let us go back to Basingstoke, then." "I can't see that that would help matters," he said gloomily; "we would have to spend the night there just the same. Besides, I think it is going to rain." They were standing outside the church by this time. "No," he continued, "our best course, our only course, in fact, is to stay here to-night, return to Basingstoke to-morrow morning, and wait for them there. You may be sure they are having quite as bad a time as we are. If I only knew some one here----" "Bravo!" she interrupted, clapping her hands, "I believe you have solved the problem. Look: do you see that carriage over there? What coat of arms has it? Quick! your eyes are better than mine." In the gathering twilight he saw driving leisurely by, with coachman and footman on the box, a handsome barouche, on the panels of which a coat of arms was emblazoned. "Well," he said, gazing hard at it, "there is a helmet with a plume, balanced on a stick of peppermint candy----" "Yes, yes!" she cried, "the crest. Go on!" "Down on the ground-storey," he continued, "there is a pink shield divided in quarters, with the same helmet in the north-east division, and a lot of silver ticket-punchers in the one below it." "Spurs," she interjected. "Well, perhaps they are," he admitted. "Then there are a couple of two-tailed blue lions swimming in a crimson lake----" "The Melton arms!" she cried. "I looked them up in 'Burke's Peerage' when that old catawampus refused to come to our wedding. We will spend to-night with Lady Diana!" "But I thought----" began the Consul, when his companion interrupted him, exclaiming: "Chase that carriage as hard as you know how, and bring it here!" Allingford felt that this was a time for action and not for speech. The days of his collegiate triumphs, when he had put his best foot foremost on the cinder-track, rose to his mind, and he fled across the green and into the gathering gloom, which had now swallowed up her ladyship's chariot, with a swiftness that caused his companion to murmur: "Well, he can sprint!" Presently the equipage was seen returning with the heated and triumphant Consul inside. It drew up before her, and the footman alighted and approached questioningly. "Is this Lady Melton's carriage?" she asked. "Yes, madam." "Then you may drive this gentleman and me to Melton Court." "But, madam----" "I am Mrs. Scarsdale, Lady Diana's great-niece," she said quietly. The footman touched his hat. "Was her ladyship expecting you? We were sent to meet this next train, but----" "No, we are here unexpectedly ourselves; but I dare say there will be room for all, as the carriage holds four." "There will only be Lord Cowbray, madam, and his lordship may not arrive till the nine-thirty. If you would not mind driving to the station?"