We stared at it in silence. Then we stared at one another. Finally we stared at Berry. The latter spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "Instinct," he said. "Just instinct. It's very wonderful. Hereditary, of course. One of my uncles was a water-waste preventer. With the aid of a cricket-bat and a false nose, he could find a swamp upon an empty stomach. They tried him once, for fun, at a garden-party. Nobody could understand the host's uneasiness until, amid a scene of great excitement, my uncle found the cesspool under the refreshment marquee." Eventually we persuaded him to proceed. For a while the going was poor, but after we had passed Briscous all cause for complaint vanished. Not only was the surface of the road as good as new, but the way itself, was winsome. The main road to Peyrehorade could not compare with it. At every twist and turn--and there were many--some fresh attraction confronted us. The countryside, shy of the great highways, crept very close. We slipped up lanes, ran side by side with brooks, brushed by snug cottages. Dingles made bold to share with us their shelter, hill-tops their sweet prospects, hamlets their quiet content. An amazing sundown set our cup brimming. That this might run over, Bidache itself gave us a chateau--ruined, desolate, and superb. There is a stateliness of which Death holds the patent: and then, again, Time can be kind to the dead. What Death had given, Time had magnified. Years had added to the grey walls a peace, a dignity, a charm, such as they never knew while they were kept. The grave beauty of the place was haunting. We passed on reluctantly.... A quarter of an hour later we ran into Peyrehorade. Here Adèle relieved my brother-in-law and, encouraged by the promise of a late tea, made the most of the daylight. Eighty minutes later we slid into Pau. As we swept up the drive of our villa-- "Well," said Berry, "I must confess it's been a successful day. If we'd lunched with Evelyn, we should have missed that venison, and if the main road hadn't been vile, we should have missed Bidache. Indeed, provided no anti-climax is furnished by the temperature of the bath-water, I think we may congratulate ourselves." Adèle and I agreed enthusiastically. Falcon met us in the hall with a note and a telephone message. The first was from Mrs. Swetecote. _DEAREST DAPHNE,_ _How awful of you! Never mind. I know how terribly easy it is to forget. And now you must come over to us instead. Falcon insisted that you would wish us to have lunch, so we did--a jolly good one, too. And Jack smoked one of Berry's cigars, and, of course, we both lost our hearts to Nobby. In fact, we made ourselves thoroughly at home._ _Your loving EVELYN._ _P.S.--Try and find out who's staying at Pau with a blue all-weather coupé. They went by us to-day like a flash of lightning. Fortunately we were going dead slow, so it was all right. But they ought to be stopped._