"Lord Badington be d----d," he said, speaking through his nose as he always did, "her dabe's Dolly Sid John, and she's the sabe who did us id de winter. I wonder you were such a precious fool as not to recognise her. Do you mean to dell me you didn't dow her?" "What!" I cried, opening my eyes wide, "she Dolly St. John! Well, you do surprise me; and she gone to Dover this very afternoon--leastwise, if it isn't to Dover, it's to Folkestone--but Biggs would tell us. Are you quite sure about it, sir?" He swore he was sure, and went on to tell me that if I hadn't been the greatest chump in Europe I would have known it from the start. "Where are your eyes?" he kept asking me; "do you mean to say you can drive a woman for ted days in London and not dow her again three months afterwards? A fine sort of chap you are. You deserve a statue in the Fools' Museum, upod my word you do. Now take me to the car, and let's see what's the matter. I'll have more to say to you whed we're in London, you mark that, my man." I didn't give him any cheek, much as I would have liked to. My game was to protect Miss Dolly as far as I was able, and to hold my tongue for her sake. Clearly her position was perilous. If this dun of a Jew went up to the house, and told them her name was not More, but St. John, the fat would be in the fire with a vengeance, and her chance of marrying John Sarand about equal to mine of mating with the crowned heads of Europe. What to do I knew no more than the dead. I had no messenger to send up to the house; I dare not leave Moss to get talking to the people of the inn; and there I was, helping him to fit and time the new magneto, and just feeling I'd pay ten pounds for the privilege of knocking him down with his own spanner. We finished the job in about half an hour, and the Renault started up at once. Moss hadn't spoken of Miss Dolly while we were at work; but directly the engine started he remembered his business, and turned on me like a fury. "Whed did you say she started off?" he asked. "About two this afternoon, I think." "In whose car?" "Why, his lordship's, of course." "She seems pretty thick with the dobility. Perhaps I'd better give her a chadce of paying?" I smiled. "There's boats to France at Dover," said I. "What if she's going over by the night mail?" He looked at me most shrewdly. "I can't make you out, Britten," says he; "either you are the greatest fool or the greatest rogue id my ebployment. Subtimes you seeb clever enough, too. Suppose we rud the car over to Dover and see what's doing there." "Yes," said I, "and you can telephone to the pier at Folkestone to have her stopped if she's sailing from there." He snapped his fingers and smiled all over his face. "That's it!" he cried. "If she's leaving the coudtry I'll arrest her. I wish you'd been half as sharp when you picked her up id London."