between its slight fingers, making them rosy. Her eyes still
gazed into the fire.

"Yes," said I.

"If Jill were here, Adam, would you kiss her good night?"



The next morning, with the help of the high collar and a little
strategy, my companion's incognito was preserved, and by
half-past eleven we had breakfasted and were once more in the
car. It was another brilliant day, and at five minutes past
twelve we ran into Steeple Abbas. Eve was sitting in front by my
side this time. As we turned into the main street, I slowed
down. Outside 'The Three Bulls' stood the limousine,
weather-beaten a little and its nickel work dull, but seemingly
all right. In the middle of the road stood a chauffeur, his cap
pushed back and a hand to his head. As we approached, he looked
away from the little writing-block and stared up at the signboard
of the inn. When he heard the car approaching, he made for the
pavement, turning a puzzled face in our direction. At that
moment I heard Jill's voice.

"Berry, Berry, I can hear a car coming. I expect it's Boy."

There was not a moment to lose. Quick as a flash I drew
alongside the limousine, which stood on our left between us and
the hotel. Then I stopped, stood up, leaned across my companion
and opened the big car's door.