“My segretary ‘as tol’ you of my agsident, yes.  I voz much oblige’ vor a lif’ to Brrrrooch.  These gattle”—­contemptuously he pointed to the waggoner and his great beasts, to whose common sagacity he owed his life—­“should not allowed be on der roats, no.  Ach, so.  It voz all wrong.”

“Quite so,” said Berry.  “I think they’re worse than pedestrians.  If I had my way, nothing but high-powered cars would be allowed on any high road.  If people can’t afford cars, let them keep to the lanes.”

“So ‘ave I say often.  What vor are der baths an’ lanes else?  Bah!”

By now Adele had taken her seat in front, and my brother-in-law, who had descended, was ushering Mr. Dunkelsbaum into the place she had left.  With a grunt the fellow made to hoist himself in, when Nobby took a flying leap from the front seat and planted himself in the intruder’s path, barking furiously.

Immediately withdrawing the foot which he had set upon the carpet, Mr. Dunkelsbaum descended anyhow on to his secretary, who was not expecting him and so too late to recede.  The scream of agony which the unfortunate creature emitted, no less than the convulsive way in which he clung to the wing, while standing upon one leg and protesting with a horrible leer that he was unhurt, gave the lie to his words.

His employer spoke at once and to the point.

“Den, if you ’ave no ’urt, what vor ’ave you yell in mine ear-’ole?  Bah!” He turned to me.  “You vill blease gondrol der ’ound.”

Mastering a desire to do the man violence, I leaned out and over the back of my seat and, taking Nobby by the scruff of his neck, hauled him struggling and growling across the barrier.  Adele received him tenderly and endeavoured to soothe him.  But the Sealyham was mourning a lost opportunity and would not be comforted.

Bluntly commanding his creature to stay with the car and arrange for its salvage, Mr. Dunkelsbaum once more heaved himself into the Rolls and sank upon the back seat.  Berry followed, and a moment later I had let in the clutch and turned up the by-road.

By the time we had reached the entrance to the enclosure it was ten minutes past two, and, as Berry got out to open and hold the gate, I saw our passenger bring out a handsome timepiece and, after a glance at the dial, replace it in some uneasiness.

“Your dime voz der same as London?” he inquired.

“Five minutes ahead,” I replied maliciously.

“Ach!”

“We shall do it all right,” I said airily, “Your appointment’s at three, isn’t it?”

Mr. Dunkelsbaum went a rich green colour, half rose from his seat, and clawed at the air before replying.

“Three?” he raved.  “Three?  No, no!  Alf-pas’ doo, man, ‘alf-pas’ doo!  ’Oo ‘as say it voz three?  In a quarder of an hour ve mus’ be dere.  It is fital, yes.”

Adele began to shake with laughter.

“Right oh,” I said casually.  “I dare say we can manage it.”  The gate was open, and I let in the clutch with a bang.  With a startled grunt, Mr. Dunkelsbaum was projected violently on to the seat he had left.  As I slowed up for Berry to rejoin us, “But I may have to go rather fast,” I added.