the pleasure of meeting you in May, when you were so kind as to
give me petrol to get me to Bordeaux."

Miss Coburn looked at him more carefully, and her manner, which had
up to then been polite, but coolly self-contained, suddenly changed.
Her face grew dead white and she put her hand sharply to her side,
as though to check the rapid beating of her heart. For a moment
she seemed unable to speak, then, recovering herself with a visible
effort, she answered in a voice that trembled in spite of herself:

"Mr. Merriman, isn't it? Of course I remember. Won't you come in?
My father will be back directly."

She was rapidly regaining self-control, and by the time Merriman
had presented Hilliard her manner had become almost normal. She
led the way to a comfortably furnished sitting-room looking out
over the river.

"Hilliard and I are on a motor launch tour across France," Merriman
went on. "He worked from England down the coast to Bordeaux, where
I joined him, and we hope eventually to cross the country to the
Mediterranean and do the Riviera from the sea."

"How perfectly delightful," Miss Coburn replied. "I envy you."

"Yes, it's very jolly doing these rivers and canals," Hilliard
interposed. "I have spent two or three holidays that way now, and
it has always been worth while."

As they chatted on in the pleasant room the girl seemed completely