Jonah and Co. Yates Dornford
around, to see my face. "You were. You know you were."
The gleeful accusation of the soft brown eyes was irresistible. To gain time, I swallowed. Then—
"So were you," I said desperately.
"I know I was," was the disconcerting reply.
"Well, then, why shouldn't we——"
"But you said you weren't."
I called the Sealyham.
"Nobby," said I, "I'm being bullied. The woman we love is turning my words against me."
For a moment the dog looked at us. Then he sat up and begged.
"And what," said Adèle, caressing him, "does that mean?"
"He's pleading my cause—obviously."
"I'm not so sure," said Adèle. "I wish he could talk."
"You're a wicked, suspicious girl. Here are two miserable males, all pale and trembling for love of you—you've only got to smile to make them rich—and you set your small pink heel upon their devotion. I admit it's a soft heel—one of the very softest——"
"——I ever remember," flashed Adèle. "How very interesting! 'Heels I have Held,' by Wild Oats. Were the others pink, too?"
Solemnly I regarded her.
"A little more," said I, "and I shan't teach her to drive."
Adèle tossed her head.
"Berry's going to do that," she said. "Directly we get to Pau."
I laughed savagely.
"I'm talking of automobiles," I said, "not golf balls."
"I know," said my wife. "And Berry's going to——"
"Well, he's not!" I shouted. "For one thing, he can't, and, for another, it's my right, and I won't give it up. I've been looking forward to it ever since I knew you. I've dreamed about it. You're miles cleverer than I am, you're wise, you're quick-witted, you can play, you can sing like a nightingale, you can take me on at tennis, you can ride—driving a car's about the only thing I can teach you, and——"
Adèle laid a smooth hand upon my mouth.
"Nobby and I," she said, "are very proud of you. They're not in the same street with their master, they know, but they're awfully proud to be his wife and dog."
To such preposterous generosity there was but one answer.
As I made it—
"May I teach you to drive, lady?"
A far-away look came into the soft brown eyes.
"If you don't," said Adèle, "nobody shall."
* * * * *
The day of the race dawned, clear and jubilant. By eight o'clock the sun was high in a blue heaven, new-swept by a steady breeze. Limping into the courtyard before breakfast, I rejoiced to notice that the air was appreciably warmer than any I had breathed for a month.
We had hoped to leave Angoulême at nine o'clock. Actually it was a quarter to ten before the luggage was finally strapped into place and my brother-in-law climbed into the car. With a sigh for a bad beginning, I reflected that if we could not cover the two-hundred and twenty odd miles in twelve and a quarter hours, we ought to be shot.
Jonah stood by, watch in hand.
"Are you ready?" he said.
I nodded.
"Right," said my cousin. "I'm not sure we've picked the best route, but it's too late now. No divergence allowed."
"I agree."
"And you don't drive."
"It's out of the question."
"Right. Like to double the bets?"
"No," said Adèle, "they wouldn't. I won't allow it. But I'll bet with you. I can't afford much, but I'll bet you a hundred francs we're there before you."
"I'll give you tens," said my cousin. "And I start in one hour from Now!"
When I say that, upon the word being given, Pong, whose manners had been hitherto above reproach, utterly refused to start or be started, it will be seen that Fate was against us. …
It took us exactly two minutes to locate the trouble—which was in the magneto—and just over two hours to put it right.
As we slid out of Angoulême, an impatient clock announced that it was mid-day.
At least the delay had done something. So far as the second wager was concerned, it had altered the whole complexion of the case. We were no longer betting upon anything approaching a certainty. Indeed, unless we could break the back of the distance before daylight failed, our chances of reaching Pau before ten were worth little. If the road to Bordeaux were as fine as that from Poitiers, and Berry could find his form, we should probably run to time. We could not afford, however, to give a minute away.
As luck would have it, the state of the road was, on the whole, rather worse than any we had used since we left Boulogne. Presumably untouched for over six years, the wear and tear to which, as one of the arteries springing from a great port, it had been subjected, had turned a sleek highway into a shadow of itself. There was no flesh; the skin was broken; the very bones were staring.
For the first half hour we told one another that we had struck a bad patch. For the second we expressed nervous hopes that the going would grow no worse. After that, Berry and I lost interest and suffered in silence. Indeed, but for Adèle, I think we should have thrown up the sponge and spent the night at Bordeaux.
My lady, however, kept us both going.
She had studied our route until she knew it by heart, and was just burning to pilot us through Bordeaux and thence across Gascony.
"They're sure to make mistakes after Bordeaux. You know what the sign-posts are like. And the road's really tricky. But I spent two hours looking it up yesterday evening. I took you through Barbezieux all right, didn't I?"
"Like a book, darling."
"Well, I can do that every time. And I daresay they'll have tire trouble. Besides, the road's no worse for us than it is for them, and after Bordeaux it'll probably be splendid. Of course we'll be there before ten—we can't help it. I want to be there before Jonah. I've got a hundred——"
"My dear," I expostulated, "I don't want to——"
"We've got a jolly good chance, any way. While you were getting her right, I got the lunch, and we can eat that without stopping. You can feed Berry. We'll gain half an hour like that."
Before such optimism I had not the face to point out that, if our opponents had any sense at all, they had lunched before leaving Angoulême.
"Here's a nice patch," added Adèle. "Put her along, you two."
Spurred by her enthusiasm, we bent again to the oars.
Contrary to my expectation, my brother-in-law, if unusually silent, was driving well. But the road was against him. He had not sufficient experience to be able to keep his foot steady upon the accelerator when a high speed and a rude surface conspired to dislodge it—a shortcoming which caused us all three much discomfort and lost a lot of mileage. Then, again, I dared not let him drive too close to the side of the road. Right at the edge the surface was well preserved, and I knew that Jonah's off wheels would make good use of it. Such finesse, however, was out of Berry's reach. We pelted along upon what remained of the crown painfully.
Seventy-three miles separate Bordeaux from Angoulême, and at the end of two hours fifty-four of them lay behind us. All things considered, this was extremely good, and when Adèle suggested that we should eat our lunch, I agreed quite cheerfully.
The suggestion, however,