The facts of the case may be related in a few words: The motor car had come up over the brow of the hill on its way back from Thetford Towers, and was rolling sedately through the drowsy stillness of Crumplesea, when a sharp metallic “zing-g-g!” sounded, and off came the tire of the left forewheel. Crumplesea boasted of three hotels and no end of “apartments,” but it could only lay claim to one garage, at the other end of the town, close to where the new hall--dignified by the name of opera house--had recently been erected. Mellish, who had learned this fact from the small gathering of idlers which the accident had collected--and to whom Berry was known, by sight and by name, about as well as the town clock itself--imparted the knowledge to his mistress, and was rather surprised that she took it with such equanimity. “Very well, send for the man and have the thing set right at once,” she said. “It is only a step to the Crumplesea Hotel, and I dare say that Mercy Blint can manage to make me comfortable and get me a cup of tea while I am waiting. You can come back there for me when the tire has been put on again. But don’t be any longer than is absolutely necessary; I want to get home before dark, if possible!” And then with the utmost serenity she alighted and walked straightway to the Crumplesea Hotel, which establishment was run by a woman who had once been her maid, and who, on the occasion of her marriage with the under butler, had been pensioned off some years ago. Inquiry brought forth the intelligence that Mercy herself was absent for the day, but Mercy’s husband was there, and himself showed her ladyship into what was known as the coffee room--every other room in the house being engaged at the time--and rushed away in person to get tea for her. And here it was that Berry saw another sign of trouble--the glaring, brightly colored aggressively prominent sign which always made her think that to-day’s accident had been foreordained. It took the shape of a bill announcing the forthcoming opening of the new Crumplesea Opera House, when--to quote the announcement verbatim--“Mr. Milton Dante’s celebrated company of London artists would present the world-famous musical play, ‘The Beauty of Gotham,’ headed by the gifted and beautiful American actress and prima donna, Miss Rosalind Montague-Vance.” A slow pallor, creeping like a snail, came steadily down over Berry’s face as she saw that bill. She stood for a long time looking fixedly at the printed words and not saying one word, not making one sound. So she was still standing when, some twenty minutes later, her tea was brought into her by the obsequious Blint himself. She sat down and drank the tea and ate the buttered toast she had ordered, and then rang the bell and called the man back to the room.