CHAPTER VII.


We had not proceeded very far up the road when the car turned into a
long winding driveway of gravel, bordered on either side by well kept
lawns and trim trees. We could see that much through the windows of the
car when the rain would cease its furious whirling against the glass
for a moment. Soon we came to a stop under a wide sheltering porte-
cochere, and the driver got down and opened the door ceremoniously. It
was quite dark, but we could see that the house at which we had stopped
was an immense mansion, probably the country home of some millionaire.

"I will see that the tanks are filled in good time," said the
chauffeur, touching his hand to his cap. He had been driving without
gloves, and I noticed that the little finger on both of his hands was
turned inward at the second joint. I believe that is what brother Tom
calls a baseball finger.

Just then the door of the house opened and a trim looking maid appeared
and greeted the chauffeur familiarly as "Heinie". He replied by a wink
and a series of movements with his eyebrows which threw the maid into a
spasm of amusement. Then he started the limousine, with the Glow-worm
still in tow, around the side of the house, presumably toward the
garage, although from where we stood we saw no building. The maid held
the door open for us and we stepped into an entry paved with marble.

"If we could stay here a few minutes until the rain is over--" began