We had twenty minutes for refreshments at Ostend, during which interval my old lady declared with warmth that I _must_ look after her registered luggage; though, as it was booked through to Cologne, I could not even see it till we crossed the German frontier; for the Belgian _douaniers_ seal up the van as soon as the through baggage for Germany is unloaded. To satisfy her, however, I went through the formality of pretending to inspect it, and rendered myself hateful to the head of the _douane_ by asking various foolish and inept questions, on which Lady Georgina insisted. When I had finished this silly and uncongenial task--for I am not by nature fussy, and it is hard to assume fussiness as another person's proxy--I returned to our _coupe_ which I had arranged for in London. To my great amazement, I found the Cantankerous Old Lady and the egregious Count comfortably seated there. 'Monsieur has been good enough to accept a place in our carriage,' she observed, as I entered. He bowed and smiled. 'Or, rather, madame has been so kind as to offer me one,' he corrected. 'Would you like some lunch, Lady Georgina?' I asked, in my chilliest voice. 'There are ten minutes to spare, and the _buffet_ is excellent.' 'An admirable inspiration,' the Count murmured. 'Permit me to escort you, miladi.' 'You will come, Lois?' Lady Georgina asked. 'No, thank you,' I answered, for I had an idea. 'I am a capital sailor, but the sea takes away my appetite.' 'Then you'll keep our places,' she said, turning to me. 'I hope you won't allow them to stick in any horrid foreigners! They will try to force them on you unless you insist. _I_ know their tricky ways. You have the tickets, I trust? And the _bulletin_ for the _coupe_? Well, mind you don't lose the paper for the registered luggage. Don't let those dreadful porters touch my cloaks. And if anybody attempts to get in, be sure you stand in front of the door as they mount to prevent them.' The Count handed her out; he was all high courtly politeness. As Lady Georgina descended, he made yet another dexterous effort to relieve her of the jewel-case. I don't think she noticed it, but automatically once more she waved him aside. Then she turned to me. 'Here, my dear,' she said, handing it to me, 'you'd better take care of it. If I lay it down in the _buffet_ while I am eating my soup, some rogue may run away with it. But mind, don't let it out of your hands on any account. Hold it so, on your knee; and, for Heaven's sake, don't part with it.' [Illustration: THAT SUCCEEDS? THE SHABBY-LOOKING MAN MUTTERED.]