Of the proceeds of the various _coups_ made, his Highness took one-third, with one-third to Clayton, who was a schemer almost as ingenious as the Prince himself, and the remaining third was divided between Max Mason, Charles, and Garrett, the chauffeur. The pair of conspirators spent the greater part of the afternoon together in exchanging confidences and arranging plans. Then his Highness rang for Garrett, and ordered him to bring round the car at five o'clock. The Parson descended to the hall below, being followed ten minutes later by his Highness. The latter found his friend lounging picturesquely with the fascinated widow, and joined them at tea, greatly to the gratification of the "pompous old crow," as Prince Albert had designated her half an hour before. As they finished the tea and muffins, the big yellow racing-car drew slowly up to the door, and on seeing it the widow began to discuss motors and motoring. "I have a car at home--a sixty-Mercedes--and I'm awfully fond of a run in it," she told the Prince. "One gets about so quickly, and sees so much of the country. My poor husband hated them, so I never rode in one until after his death." "The car I have with me is a racer, as you see," remarked his Highness. "It's a hundred horse-power, and made a record on the Brooklands track just before I bought her. If you were not of the feminine sex, Mrs Edmondson, I'd invite you to go for a run with me," he laughed. "It's rather unsociable, for it's only a two-seater, with Garrett on the step." "I'd love to go for a run," she declared. "It--well it really wouldn't be too great a breach of the convenances for a woman to go out on a racing-car, would it?" "I don't think so, Mrs Edmondson," remarked the Reverend Thomas, in his most cultivated clerical drawl. "But I would wrap up well, for the Prince travels very fast on a clear road." So "the old crow" decided to accept his Highness's invitation, and ascended to put on her brown motor-cap and veil and a thick coat against the chill, evening winds. TWO. A quarter of an hour later, with Garrett--in his grey and red livery-- seated on the step, and the widow up beside him, the Prince drew the great ugly yellow car out of the hotel entrance, while the Parson, standing amid the crowd of jealous onlookers, waved his hand in merry farewell. In a few moments the siren screamed, and the open exhaust roared and spluttered as they crossed the Stray, taking the road through Starbeck to Knaresborough, thence south by Little Ribston to Wetherby. Having turned off to the left through the town, they came upon a straight open road where, for the first time his Highness, accustomed as he was to all the vagaries of his powerful car, put on a "move" over the ten miles into York, a run at such a pace that the widow clung to her seat with both hands, almost breathless. She had never travelled half so fast before in all her life.