They glared at each other like two tigers, for an instant, and then Jack put the seat down—­I knew why.  A refusal on his part to do such a service for his master’s stepson would mean that he must resign or be discharged—­and leave me to deal unaided with a cad.  I think Bertie knew, too, why he was unhesitatingly obeyed; and racked his brain for further tests.  It was not long before he had a brilliant idea.

The car stopped at a level crossing, to let a train go by, and Bertie availed himself of the opportunity to get out.

“Sir Samuel’s going’ to let me try my hand at drivin’,” said he.  “I don’t think much of your form, and I’ve been tellin’ him so.  My best pal is a director of the Aigle company, and I’ve driven his car a lot of times.  Her ladyship will let Elise sit inside, and I’ll watch your style a bit before I take the wheel.”

Not a word said Jack.  He didn’t even look at me as he helped me down from the seat which had been mine for so many happy days.  I crept miserably into the stuffy glass cage, where, in the folding chair, I sat as far forward as my own shape and the car’s allowed; Sir Samuel’s fat knees in my back, Lady Turnour’s sharp voice in my ears.  And for scenery, I had Bertie’s aggressive shoulders and supercilious gesticulations.

The road to Nevers I scarcely saw.  I think it was flat; but Bertie’s driving made it play cup and ball with the car in a curious way, which a good chauffeur could hardly have managed if he tried.  We passed Riom, Gannat, Aigueperse, I know; and at Moulins, in the valley of the Allier, we lunched in a hurry.  To Nevers we came early, but it was there we were to stop for the night, and there we did stop, in a drizzle of rain which prevented sight-seeing for those who had the wish, and the freedom, to go about.  As for me, I was ordered by Lady Turnour to mend Mr. Stokes’s socks, he having made peace by offering to “give her a swagger dinner in town.”

Bertie’s cleverness was not confined to ingratiating himself with her ladyship.  He contrived adroitly to damage the steering-gear by grazing a wall as he turned the Aigle into the hotel courtyard, and by this feat disposed of the chauffeur’s evening, which was spent in hard work at the garage.  Such dinner as Jack got, he ate there, in the shape of a furtive sandwich or two, otherwise we should not have been able to leave in the morning at the early hour suggested by Mr. Stokes.

Warned by the incidents of yesterday, Sir Samuel desired his chauffeur to take the wheel again from Nevers to Paris.  But—­no doubt with the view of keeping us apart, and devising new tortures for his enemy—­Bertie elected to play Wolf to Jack’s Spartan Boy, and sit beside him.  This relegated me to the cage again, with back-massage from Sir Samuel’s knees.