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Oddly enough, there came no more expostulation from Mrs. Devar. Like the majority of nervous people, she was quelled by the need of placing complete trust in one who understood his work. While Medenham was still searching the sky-line for signs of the vanished car, she did show some interest in his quest.
"They're just off to the caves," put in the girl. "While Mrs. Devar writes her postcards, I suppose?" said Medenham innocently. "What! Is that the old party with the hair? I thought she was the young lady's mother. She's gone with them. She looks that sort of meddler not half. Two's company an' three's none is my motto, cave or no cave." She tried her most bewitching smile on Medenham this time.
He strove to appear at his ease, even essayed a few words of congratulation on the happy chance that brought the Mercury to their relief, but the imperious young lady cut short his limping phrases. "Oh, don't let us waste these precious minutes," she protested. "It will be quite dark soon, and if there is much more of this wretched track " Medenham broke in at that. Mrs.
Cynthia told Medenham, and there was a touch of regret in her voice. "Poor dear," she said in an undertone, "the Castle was too much for her, and the fresh air has made her drowsy." He glanced quickly over his shoulder, and instantly made up his mind to broach a project that he had thought out carefully since his quarrel with the Frenchman.
If you feel that I ought to be presented to the manageress in state, kindly announce me as George Augustus Fitzroy, Viscount Medenham, of Medenham Hall, Downshire, and 91 Cavendish Square, London." The hall-porter's eyes twinkled. "I didn't mean that, my lord, but there's a chauffeur, name of Dale " "Ah, what of him?"
Viscount Medenham descended leisurely and lit a cigarette. Dale, the stoic, folded his arms and looked fixedly at the press of vehicles passing the end of the street. Vivid memories of Lord Medenham's chivalrous courtesy his lordship's dashed tomfoolery he called it warned him that life was about to assume new interests.
There was no sign-post, but a child could scarce have erred if asked to choose the track that led to a big town. Medenham, having consulted the map earlier in the day, swung to the left without hesitation. The car literally flew up the next incline, and the dark lines of trees and hedges in the distance proved that tilled land was being neared.
It's a long road that stretches between here an' Chester, an' I left there at ten o'clock this morning, runnin' through any Gord's quantity of traps, an' all." Medenham did not smile. He touched a bell, and found that Dale's specific was a bottle of beer. "I never set eyes on Miss Cynthia," continued the chauffeur, his wits quickening under the soothing draught.
"Of course they must stow everything into the canvas trunks I supplied, my lord." Medenham stooped and examined the screws which fastened an iron grid at the back of the broken-down vehicle. "Whip open the tool box, Dale, and transfer that arrangement to my car," he said briskly. "Make it fit somehow.
Devar, and Medenham recovered sufficient self-control to point out to Cynthia her first glimpse of the gray walls that vie with Fountains Abbey and Rievaulx for pride of place as the most beautiful ruin in England. Certainly those old Cistercians knew how and where to build their monasteries.