I said “Yes” to everything, and Jack darted away to converse with a nice man he had met in the garage, who had a motor, and was going to Paris almost immediately.  If he had not gone yet, perhaps he would take us.

Luckily he had not gone, and he did take us.  He took us to the Gare du Nord, where we would just have time to eat something, and catch the boat train for Calais.  We should be in London in the morning, and Jack would apply for a special licence as early as possible.

I stood guarding our humble heap of luggage, while Jack spent his hard-earned sovereigns for our tickets, when suddenly I heard a voice which sounded vaguely familiar.  It was broken with distress and excitement; still I felt sure I had heard it before, and turned quickly, exclaiming “Miss Paget!”

There she was, with a dressing bag in one hand, and a broken dog-leash in the other.  Tears were running down her fat face (not so fat as it had been) under spectacles, and her false front was put on anyhow.

“Oh, my dear girl!” she wailed, without showing the slightest sign of astonishment at sight of me.  “What a mercy you’ve turned up, but it’s just like you.  Have you seen my Beau anywhere?”

“No,” I said, rather stiffly, for I couldn’t forgive her or her dog for their treatment of my Jack.

“Oh, dear, what shall I do!” she exclaimed.  “He hates railway stations.  You can’t think the awful time we’ve had since you left me in the train at Cannes.  And now he’s broken his leash, and run away, and I can’t speak any French, except to ask for hot water in Italian, and I don’t see how I’m going to find my darling again.  They’ll snatch him up, to fling him into some terrible, murderous waggon, and take him to a lethal home, or whatever they call it.  For heaven’s sake, go and ask everybody where he is—­and if you find him you can have anything on earth I’ve got, especially my Italian castle which I can’t sell.  You can come to England with me and Beau, when you’ve got him, and I’ll make you happy all the rest of your life.  Oh, go—­do go.  I’ll look after your luggage.”

“It’s half your own nephew’s, Jack Dane’s, luggage,” said I, breathless and pulsing.  “I’m going to England with him, and he’s going to make me happy all the rest of my life, for we mean to be married, in spite of your cruelty which has made him poor, and turned him into a chauffeur.  But—­here he comes now.  And—­why, Miss Paget, there’s Beau walking with him, without any leash.  Beau must remember him.”

“Beau with Jack Dane!” gasped the old lady.  “Jack Dane’s found Beau? Beau’s forgiven him!  Then so will I. You can both have the Italian castle—­and everything that goes with it.  And everything else that’s mine, too, except Beau.”

“Hello, aunt, here’s your dog,” said Jack.

Beau licked his foot.

* * * * *

Transcriber’s note: