hardly any noise save the whir of the chains. For a flashing instant
that old face shone out of the circle of our lights, concave with
astonishment; then we lost it forever.

"No fear that _he_ will telephone to have us stopped lower down," said
Molly. "He thinks we are supernatural, and will go home and tell his
grandchildren that he has seen witches tearing home after a revel up
among the glaciers."

Faster still the car flew down the road. The air that streamed past us
held the faint, elusive perfume of Italy, which softly hints the
presence of the walnut, the chestnut, and the grape. Through village
after village we swept at speed, our lamps shining now on mulberry and
fig trees, and on vines trained over trellises held up by splintered
granite slabs. Next we came suddenly upon an Italian-looking town with
bad _pavé_ and dimly lighted streets, where three or four workmen,
early astir, stared at us in bewilderment. It was Bellinzona; but
passing through, we came out presently on the margin of an immense
sheet of water, and it was only in Locarno on the edge of Lago
Maggiore, when dawn was paling the eastern sky, that Jack at last drew
rein.

No one was tired; no one wanted to rest. On the contrary, our rapid
flight over the Alps had intoxicated us with the sense of speed; and
we were all excitedly for going on until we should reach the frontier.
As pink dawn blossomed in the sky, like a heavenly orchard, and the
mountain tops were beaten into copper, we glided along the edge of the
lake, past picturesque villages and _campanili_, and cypress trees. At
the Italian frontier there were the usual tedious formalities of
payment and sealing the car with a leaden seal; but when all this was