I listened to these arguments and suggestions with a creepy feeling in the roots of my hair, for I, too, have an “acquaintance” who owns a chateau near Fontainebleau:  a certain Monsieur Charretier.  He, also, has a “lot of motors” and would, I knew, if he were “in residence” be delighted to lend a car and extend an invitation to dinner, if informed that Lys d’Angely was of the party.  Could it be, I thought, that Mr. Stokes was acquainted with Monsieur Charretier, or that, not being acquainted, he had heard something from the Duchesse de Melun, and was making a little experiment with me?

Perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed that he glanced my way triumphantly, when Lady Turnour agreed to stay in the hope of meeting the nameless, but important, friend; and I felt that, whatever happened, I must have a word of advice from Jack.

The discussion had taken place in the road, or rather, at the side of the road, where the combined exertions of Jack and Bertie had pushed the wounded Aigle.  The chauffeur, having examined the car and pronounced her helpless, walked back to interview a carter we had passed not long before, with the view of procuring a tow.  Now, just as the discussion was decided in favour of stopping over night at Fontainebleau, he appeared again, in the cart.

We were so near the hotel in the woods that we could be towed there in half an hour, and, ignominious as the situation was, Lady Turnour preferred it to the greater evil of walking.  I remained in the car with her, the chauffeur steered, the carter towed, and Sir Samuel and his stepson started on in advance, on foot.

At the hotel Jack was to leave us, and be towed to a garage; but, in desperation, I murmured an appeal as he gave me an armful of rugs.  “I must ask you about something,” I whispered.  “Can you come back in a little less than an hour, and look for me in the woods, somewhere just out of sight of the hotel?”

“Yes,” he said.  “I can and will.  You may depend on me.”

That was all, but I was comforted, and the rugs became suddenly light.

Rooms were secured, great stress being laid upon a good sitting-room (in case the important friend should call), and I unpacked as usual.  When my work was done, I asked her ladyship’s permission to go out for a little while.  She looked suspicious, clawed her brains for an excuse to refuse, but, as there wasn’t a buttonless glove, or a holey stocking among the party, she reluctantly gave me leave.  I darted away, plunged into the forest, and did not stop walking until I had got well out of sight of the hotel.  Then I sat down on a mossy log under a great tree, and looked about for Jack.

A man was coming.  I jumped up eagerly, and went to meet him as he appeared among the trees.

It was Mr. Herbert Stokes.

CHAPTER XXX

“I followed you,” he said.

“I thought so,” said I.  “It was like you.”