The King laughed softly to himself, as he recalled that it was he, and not Judith, who had been shy and embarrassed, that it was he, and not Judith, who had blushed and stammered--until Judith had come to his rescue, understanding and accepting his incoherent apologies and explanations, almost before he had uttered them, and taking absolute command of him, and of the whole delightfully bizarre situation from that moment-- The necessity of avoiding a couple of belated country carts, moving slowly forward towards Covent Garden, at this point, broke abruptly into the King's reverie. The powerfully engined car was running smoothly, and at a high speed now, along the level surface of one of the outer suburban tramway tracks-- It was Judith who had promptly roused old Jevons, the gardener, and sent him off, post haste, to take charge of the derelict car. It was Judith who, greatly daring, had penetrated into the jealously guarded, literary night seclusion of Uncle Bond, on the upper floor of the silent, darkened house, and had compelled the little man to leave his latest business girl heroine, in the middle of the next instalment of his new serial, although that instalment was, as usual, already overdue, and come downstairs, urbane and chuckling, his round, double-chinned, and spectacled face wreathed in smiles, to entertain an unknown, and youthful stranger, as if his midnight intrusion was the most natural thing in the world. It was Judith, familiar with the way that they have in the Navy, who had understood, from the first, the vital necessity of his rejoining his ship in time. It was Judith who had routed out time-tables, and looked up trains, while he and Uncle Bond had smoked and discussed the situation at large, and had discovered that he still might be able to catch the Scottish Mail, at some railway junction in the Midlands, of which he had never heard. It was Judith who had packed off the at once enthusiastic Uncle Bond to the garage to turn out his own brand new Daimler. It was Judith who had insisted that they must make a hurried, and informal, but wholly delightful picnic meal. It was Judith who had slipped out, while Uncle Bond and he ate and drank, and put his kit, which the careful Jevons had brought from the broken down car to the house for safe custody, into the Daimler. Finally, it was Judith who had given them their marching orders, and their route, and had stood on the verandah, and waved her hand to them, in friendly farewell, when Uncle Bond had started the Daimler, and the huge car had swept down the drive, out into the sleeping countryside.