(10) A mouse (defunct).

(11) A second slip of paper.

He grunted with satisfaction, replaced his treasures carefully in the
pouches and handed the last-named item to me. It read to the effect
that both he and his car were at my disposal for the day. I wriggled
into a coat and followed him out to where his chariot awaited us.

I never pretended to be a judge of motor vehicles, but it does not
need an expert to detect a Drift when he sees one; they have a leggy,
herring-gutted appearance all their own. Where it was not dented in
it bulged out; most of those little knick-knacks that really nice
cars have were missing, and its complexion had peeled off in erratic
designs such as Royal Academicians used to smear on transports to
make U-Boaters imagine they were seeing things they shouldn't and lead
better lives.

I did not like the looks of the thing from the first, and my early
impressions did not improve when, as we bumped off the drive on to the
_pavé_, the screen suddenly detached itself from its perch and flopped
into our laps.

However, the car put in some fast work between our château gates and
the _estaminet_ of the "Rising Sun" (a distance of fully two hundred
yards), and my hopes soared several points. From the _estaminet_ of
the "Rising Sun" to the village of Bailleul-aux-Hondains the road
wriggles down-hill in two sharp hair-pin bends. The car flung itself
over the edge of the hill and plunged headlong for the first of these.