"They're going to Plymouth. Wouldn't it be better for us to go on there an' wait for 'em?" suggested the man. "It's now five o'clock, and they'll probably put up there for the night." "No. They are going farther than Plymouth," I said. "It's a thousand pities you can't remember where the chauffeur said they were going." "Perhaps the ladies 'ull want tea. If so, they'll probably pull up at the `Golden Lion,' just as we go into Ashburton. It's the place where the coaches stop." "Then let's stop there. If they also pull up, well and good. If they don't, we can follow them," I said, and five minutes later we came to a standstill before the inn where, at the back, I found a delightful garden sloping down towards the valley, where the blaze of colour and the scent of flowers were refreshing after the heat and dust of the great highway. Without removing my goggles I cast myself into a seat, and ordered a glass of "shandygaff." Gibbs I had left outside with the car, ordering him to come and tell me when the party passed. That peaceful old garden was just the place in which to sit on a hot summer's afternoon with all sight and sound of town shut out; only the green hills opposite and their all-pervading fragrance. Suddenly, from where I sat, I heard the whirr of an approaching car which came to a standstill before the inn. Would Ella come through into the garden? I did not wish to meet her with her friends. It was my desire to see her alone. Therefore I jumped to my feet and walked away to the farther end of the garden. As I expected they came, all four of them, seated themselves at the table I had just vacated, and ordered tea. For five minutes or so I watched them. Ella, with her veil raised, was talking and laughing merrily with the round-faced young man, while he, bending towards her across the table, appeared fascinated by her glance. I bit my lip, and turning, made my way through the inn and out into the road, where both cars were standing, and both chauffeurs were gossiping. For another five minutes I waited, then Gibbs, approaching me, touched his cap, and inquired if I were ready, adding under his breath:-- "I've found out where they're goin', sir. There's some mystery about them, I believe. I'll tell you when we get away." CHAPTER TWENTY. REVEALS THE TRUTH. "They're goin' to a place called Upper Wooton, about half way between Saltash and Callington, on the Launceston road. I know the village-- quite a tiny place," Gibbs said, as we went up the picturesque street of Ashburton. "Then we'd better go straight on there." "They're goin' through Plymouth, but the most direct way, and much shorter, is through Tavistock, which would bring us right into the cross-roads at Callington. We'd save a couple of hours by that, and, after all, they've got a `forty,' you know, while ours is only a `sixteen'. They'll make better pace than us up the hills."