since in those days motors had been no affair of mine; but then, the
illustration had been striking, in every sense of the word. It had
represented a lovely girl, with hair unbound, saving from destruction
the automobile in which she sat with several companions, by shooting a
fierce blast of water into the face of a huge beast well-nigh as
terrible as Cerberus. I determined to surprise Jack and Molly, when
the right time should come; accordingly, the moment I reached our
hotel, I filled the pistol with water, and placed it, thus loaded, in
the pocket of my motoring coat ready for emergencies. Hardly had I
made this preparation for the future when I discovered on the table a
note addressed to me in Winston's handwriting.

"Dear Monty," I read, "Molly and I have a bet on. She has bet me a
dinner that you will drive her car out to Madrid, and meet us at
half-past seven, so that we can have the dinner by daylight. I have
bet her the same dinner that you won't. Which of us must pay?--Yours,
Jack."

I whistled. What, drive the car through the traffic of Paris? It must
be a joke. Of course it was a joke, but----

When I had dressed for dinner, I strolled over to the garage not far
away where the creature lurked. Anyhow, I would have a look at her,
and see what orders Gotteland had received. Yes, of course it was a
joke. Or else my poor friends had gone mad. Still, there was a kind of
madness with method in it. Diabolical wretches, with their bets, and
their dinners! Did they dream I would try to do it, and smash the car?
"Nothing like driving a motor through traffic, to give one
self-confidence afterwards," Jack had said yesterday, after praising
me for refraining from killing a small boy in a village street. "Once