“The best money can buy.”

“Now tell me what you know about the chauffeur who drives the limousine?”

“He is absolutely to be trusted.”

“You have had him long in your employ?”

The woman hesitated, looked aside, bit her lip.

“As a matter of fact, monsieur,” she said hastily, trying to cover her loss of countenance with rapid speech—­“it is the boy who drove us through the Cevennes.  Monsieur Monk asked me to keep him pending his return to France, You understand, he is not to be away long—­Monsieur Monk—­only a few weeks; so it would have been extravagant to take Jules back to America for that little time.  You see?”

Lanyard had the grace to keep a straight face.  He nodded gravely.

“You make it all perfectly clear, little sister.  And the driver of the touring car:  are you sure of him?”

“I think so.  But you do not tell me what you have in mind.”

“Simply this:  At the last moment you will decide to take Leon with you.  Give him no more time than he needs to pack a handbag.  Trump up some excuse and let him follow with Marthe...”

“No difficulty about that.  He is an excellent driver, Leon; he served me as chauffeur—­and made a good one, too—­for a year before I took him into the house, at his request; he said he was tired of driving.  But if the man I had meant to use is indisposed—­trust me to see that he is—­I can call on Leon to take care of Marthe and our luggage in the touring car.”

“Excellent.  Now presuming Dupont to be well informed, we may safely bank on his attempting nothing before nightfall.  Road traps can be too easily perceived at a distance by daylight.  Toward evening then, we will let the touring car catch up.  You will express a desire to continue in it, because—­because of any excuse that comes into your head.  At all events, we will exchange cars with Marthe and Leon, leaving the latter to bring on the limousine while Jules drives for us.  Whatever happens then, we may feel sure the touring car will get off lightly; for whether they’re involved with Dupont or not, Leon and Marthe are small fry, not the fish he’s angling for.”

“But will not Leon and Marthe suspect and refuse to follow?”

“Perhaps they may suspect, but they will follow out of curiosity, to see how we fare, if for nothing else.  You may lose a limousine, but you can afford to risk that as long as you are not in it—­eh, little long-lost sister?”

“My dear brother!” Liane cried, deeply moved.  She leaned forward and caressed Lanyard’s hand with sisterly warmth, in her admiration and gratification loosing upon him the full candle-power of the violet eyes in their most disastrous smile.  “What a head to have in the family!”

“Take care!” Lanyard admonished.  “I admit it’s not half bad at times, but if this battered old headpiece of mine is to be of any further service to us, Liane, you must be careful not to turn it!”