“And may I grumble to you sometimes, little mother, and come to you to be comforted when I am oppressed by fools? You can trust me. I shall never make you ashamed. And now, for practical things. You must be in London to-morrow morning. I have worked it all out.” “Remember, I am a very independent young woman.” “Oh, I know! Let me spend myself, sometimes. Have you any luggage at the ‘Black Boar’?” “No, only my knapsack, which I left in the car.” “Fancy a woman travelling with nothing more than a knapsack! Oh, Eve, my child!” “I didn’t like it. I’ll own up. All my luggage is stored with some warehouse people in town. I have the receipts here in my purse.” “That’s luck—that’s excellent! We must walk round to the Basingford road to miss any of my scouts. You will wait there, say by the Camber cross-roads, while I get my car out.” He felt for his watch. “Have you that lamp?” “It is here on the seat.” “Just two o’clock. I shall tell my man I’m off in chase of a party who made off in a car. I shall bring you one of my greatcoats and pick you up at the cross-roads. We shall be in London by five. We will get some breakfast somehow, and then knock up the warehouse people and pile your luggage into the back. I shall drive you to a quiet hotel I know, and I shall leave you there. What could be simpler? An independent young woman staying at a quiet hotel, rather bored with London and inclined to resume a discarded career.” She laughed softly—happily. “It is simple! Then I shall have to write you a formal letter.” “Just that.” * * * * * CHAPTER XLIV THE NIGHT DRIVE Eve, waiting at the Camber cross-roads under the shadow of a yew that grew in the hedgerow, saw an arm of light sweep slowly down the open road before her, the glare of Canterton’s headlights as his car rounded the wooded corner about a quarter of a mile from the Fernhill gates. She remained in the shadow till she was sure that it was Canterton, and that he was alone. Pulling up, he saw her coming as a shadow out of the shadows, a slim figure that detached itself from the trunk of the yew. “All right! Here’s a coat. Get into the back, and curl yourself up. It’s as well that no Peeping Tom in Basingford should discover that I have a passenger.” Eve put on the coat, climbed in, and snuggled down into the deeply cushioned seat so that she was hidden by the coachwork. The car had not stopped for more than thirty seconds, Canterton holding the clutch out with the first speed engaged. They were on the move again, and, with deft gear-changing, gliding away with hardly a sound.