The Motor Maid Part 23

However, I held up my hand in its torn, bloodstained glove, with two silver pieces displayed on the palm.

"A child's hidey-hole, I suppose," he said without showing as much interest as the occasion warranted. "Otherwise there would be something more valuable. A young servant of the Grimaldis, perhaps; these coins are all of the same period--of no great value as antiques, I'm afraid."

"They're of value to me," I retorted. "They'll bring me luck." I would of course have given him one, if he hadn't been so disagreeable; but now I felt that he shouldn't have anything of mine if he were starving.

"You are very superst.i.tious, among other childlike qualities," he replied, laughing. So _that_ was what he thought of me, and _that_ was why he had called me "child"! It was all spoiled now, from the beginning; and the guide might as well have found me, as I had said, without _quite_ meaning it at the time.

"If you don't like lucky things, you can throw away my St. Christopher,"

I said, coldly. "You must have thought it very silly."

"I thought it extremely kind of you to give it, and I've no intention of throwing it away, or parting with it," said he. "Now, are you ready?"

"Yes," I snapped.

In an instant he had me by the waist between two hands which felt strong as steel buckles, and swung me up like a feather on to the first step of the broken stairs. Then, in another second, he was at my side, supporting me to the top without a word, except a muttered "Don't be childis.h.!.+" when I would have pushed away his arm.

Strange to say, I forgot Lady Turnour and Sir Samuel until we saw the guide, to whom long ago Mr. Dane had called up a rea.s.suring _"Tout va bien!_" Then, suddenly, the awful truth sprang into my mind. All this time they had been waiting for me! What would they say? What would they do?

In my horror, I even forgot my righteous anger with the chauffeur. "Oh!"

I gasped. "_The Turnours!_"

Then Mr. Dane spoke kindly again. "Don't worry," he said. "It's all right. They've gone on."

"In the car?" I cried.

"No. Sir Samuel can't drive the car. And as Lady Turnour thought she had a chill, rather than wait for me to find you they took a carriage which was here, and drove down to St. Remy. They'll go on by rail to Avignon, and--"

"There must have been a dreadful row!" I groaned.

"Not at all. You're not to worry. Lady Turnour behaved like a cad, as usual, but what can you expect? Sir Samuel did the best he could. He would have liked to wait, but if he'd insisted she would have had hysterics."

"How came there to be a carriage here?" I asked the guide.

"The gentleman paid three young men who had driven up in it a good sum to get it for himself," he explained, "and they are walking down. They are of Germany."

"Was it a long time?" I went on. "Oh, it _must_ have been. It's nearly dark now, except for the moonlight."

"It is perhaps an hour altogether since mademoiselle separated herself from the others," the guide admitted. "But they have been gone for more than half that time. They did not delay long, after the little dispute with monsieur about the car."

"Oh, there was a dispute!" I caught him up, wheeling upon the chauffeur.

"You _must_ tell me."

"It was nothing much," he said, still very kindly, "and it was her ladys.h.i.+p's fault, of course. If you were plain and elderly she'd have more patience; but as it is, you've seen how quick she is to scold; so, of course, she was angry when she'd finished her grog and you didn't turn up."

"What did she say," I asked.

He laughed. "She was quite irrelevant."

"I must know!"

"Well, she seemed to lay most of the blame on the colour of your hair and eyelashes."

"She said--"

"What could be expected of a girl that dyed her hair yellow and her eyelashes black?"

"_Horrid_ woman! You don't believe I do, do you?"

"I must say it hadn't occurred to me to think of it."

Then I remembered how angry I was with him, and didn't pursue that subject, but turned again to the other. However, I made a mental note that there was one more thing to punish him for when I got the chance.

"What else did she say?"

"She began to turn purple when Sir Samuel would have defended you, and said she wouldn't stand your taking such liberties. That it was monstrous, and a few other things, to be kept freezing on mountains by one's domestics, and that she should be ill if she waited. Sir Samuel persuaded her to give you fifteen minutes' grace, but after that she was determined to start. Of course, she didn't know that an accident had happened. She thought you were simply dawdling, and wanted Sir Samuel to arrange for you to drive down with the newly arrived German tourists.

Sir Samuel and I objected to this, and later it was settled for the Turnours to do what her ladys.h.i.+p planned for you, without the company of the tourists. Lady Turnour resents _lese-majeste_."

"It's a miracle she consented to leave the car," I said.

"She couldn't use it without a chauffeur, and naturally I refused to go without knowing what had happened to you."

"You refused!" I stammered.

"Of course. That was where the row came in. We had a few words, and eventually I was deputed to look you up."

"Deputed!" I echoed, desperately. "They never 'deputed' you to do it, I'm sure."

"They jolly well couldn't help themselves. You can't make a man drive a car if he won't. So they went off in the Germans' carriage, and the Germans were enchanted."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, so miserable now that anger leaked out of my heart like water through a sieve. "It's all my fault. Did they discharge you?"

"I didn't give them the chance. After a few little things her ladys.h.i.+p said, I felt rather hot in the collar, and discharged myself. That is, I gave them notice that I would go as soon as they could get another chauffeur. It would have been bad form to leave them in the lurch, without anyone, on tour."

The tears came to my eyes, and I was thinking so little about myself that I let them roll down without bothering to wipe them away. "Do, do forgive me," I implored. "But you never can, of course. All through my foolishness you're out of an engagement. And you depended upon it, I know, from what you said."

"There's nothing to forgive, my dear little sister," he said. "It's you who must forgive me, if I've distressed you by telling the story in a clumsy way. It wasn't your fault. I couldn't stand that bounderess's cruel tongue, so I have myself to blame, if anyone. And it's sure to turn out right in the end."

"You refused to drive their car because you would stay behind and find me--"

"Any decent chap would do that--even a chauffeur." He spoke lightly to comfort me. "Besides, I wanted to stop. You're the only sister I ever had."

"You must hate me," I moaned.

"I don't. Please don't cry. I shall faint if you do."

I was obliged to laugh a little through my tears.

"Come," he said, gently. "Let me take you down. Just a word with the guide about those gipsies, and--"