I thrust our packages into the fold of the hood and ran to examine the wing. Happily the damage was slight. I announced this relievedly. "I daresay it is," raged Berry, as we resumed our seats. "What I object to is the poisonous hostility of the brute. He blinkin' well meant to do it." "Dear, dear," said Adèle, bubbling. "There must have been some misunderstanding. The Spaniard's courtesy is proverbial." "Exactly," said I. "The stranger is at first apt to be carried away by the exaggerated politeness of the----" "You may be," said Berry, "as blasphemous as you like, but, for the love of the home for little children, let's get out of this town." I let in the clutch.... We were passing out of the beautiful armoried gateway, when an approaching peasant signalled to us to stop, and pointed excitedly back the way we had come. The fellow's manner suggested that we had dropped something. I pulled up the car, opened my door, and jumped out. As I did so, a breathless Eulalie appeared upon the other side of the car. "I never thought I should catch you," she said uncertainly. "My car got mixed up with that waggon, so I chanced it and ran. And, now I'm here, I hardly know how to tell you...." She addressed herself to Adèle. "But I fancy you've got my scent--'Red Violets.' It's rather--rather special. They only make it by request. And a friend of mine had ordered a bottle for me. It was put ready for me to call for, and, as far as I can make out, they've given it to you by mistake. I'm--I'm afraid I'm asking an awful lot, but might I have it? I'm leaving Spain altogether in half an hour, so I shan't have another chance." I never remember feeling so utterly disillusioned. Recalling the telephone conversation of the day before, I was frankly disgusted. Such sharp practice as this smacked of a bargain sale. The scent was ours. We had bought it fairly. Besides, it had _not_ been reserved. If either Adèle or Eulalie had to go empty away, Law and Equity alike were pronouncing in favour of my wife. Adèle was speaking. "Oh, certainly. Boy, will you...?" I stepped into the car and thrust a hand into the fold of the hood. "I shall know which it is. The paper it's wrapped in is different. There's a line running through it, and the others were plain." I plucked out a case and gave it to her to examine. "That's right." Gravely she handed it to Eulalie. "I'm sorry you had to run so," she added gently. The other shrugged her shoulders. "I caught you," she said simply, "and that's the great thing." She glanced over her shoulder. "And here comes my car. I'm really most awfully grateful...." With a swish the cabriolet swept alongside, skidded with locked wheels upon the pavement, and fetched up anyhow with its bonnet across our bows. It was a piece of driving for which the chauffeur ought to have been flogged.