The Lightning Conductor: The Strange Adventures of a Motor-Car

So after lunch we started away from glittering, flowery blue and white and golden Nice by the most glorious coast road for Monte Carlo. But you know it well, dear Dad. I suppose there can be nothing more beautiful on earth. And Monte Carlo is beautiful; but somehow its beauty doesn't seem real and wholesome and natural, does it? It's like a magnificently handsome woman who is radiant at night, and doesn't look suitable to morning light, because then you see that her hair and eyelashes are dyed and her complexion cleverly made up. If Monte Carlo could be concentrated and condensed into the form of a real woman, I think she would be the kind who uses lots of scent and doesn't often take a bath.

We wandered about among the shops and saw the most lovely things, but somehow I didn't "feel to want" any of them, as my nurse used to say. I couldn't help associating all the smart hats and dresses and jewels in the windows with the terrible hawk faces painted to look like doves, which kept passing us in the streets or the Casino gardens, instead of thinking whether the things would be pretty on me.

Jimmy knows "Monte" very well, and was inclined to swagger about his knowledge. There's one thing which I am compelled to admit that he can do-order a dinner. He took us to a restaurant, led aside the head waiter, talked with him for a few minutes, and announcing that dinner would be ready when we wanted it, pioneered us across to "the rooms." I'd seen so many pictures of the Casino that it didn't come upon me as a surprise. The first thing that struck me was the overpowering deadness of the air, which felt as if generations of people had breathed all the oxygen out of it, and the ominous, muffled silence, broken only by the sharp chink! chink! of the croupiers' rakes as they pulled in the money.

Jimmy insisted on staking a louis for me and another for Aunt Mary, who was enraptured when, she won thirteen louis, and would have given up dinner to go on playing if she hadn't lost her winnings and more besides.

When we sat down to our table at the restaurant she was quite depressed, but everything was so bright and gay that she soon cheered up. Our tablecloth was strewn all over with roses and huge bluey-purple violets, and the dinner was pluperfect. There was a great coming and going of overdressed women and rather loud young men, which amused me, but I think it would soon pall. I can't imagine any feeling of rest or peace at Monte Carlo, not even in the gardens. To stop long in the place would be like always breathing perfume or eating spice.

We had finished dinner, and Jimmy was paying the bill (I couldn't help seeing that it was of enormous length), when the scraping of chairs behind us advertised that a new party had arrived at the table back of ours. A noisy, loud-talking party it was-all men, by the voices, and one of those voices sounded remotely familiar. The owner of it seemed to be telling an amusing story, which had been interrupted by entering the restaurant and taking seats. "Well, she simply jumped at it like a trout at a mayfly," the man was saying, as I sat wondering where I'd heard the voice before. "I couldn't help feeling a bit of a beast to impose on Yankee innocence. But all's fair in love and motor-cars. This was the most confounded thing ever designed; a kind of ironmonger's shop on wheels. And the girl was deuced pretty-"

The word "motor-car" brought it all back, and in a flash I crossed Europe from the restaurant in Monte Carlo to the village hotel at Cobham. I looked round and into the face of Mr. Cecil-Lanstown.

Aunt Mary looked too, for the bill was paid, and we were getting up to go. Our eyes met in the midst of his sentence; the man half rose, but dropped down again with a silly smile, and I gave him one of those elaborate glances that begin with a person's boots and work slowly up to the necktie. Just as we were sweeping past Aunt Mary said in a loud aside to me, "Did you ever see such a creature? And I took him for a duke." I think he heard.

In the Casino gardens we saw the moon rise out of the sea, and never shall I forget the glory of it. But just the very beauty of everything made me feel sad. So stupid of me. I really don't think I can be well lately. I must take a tonic or a nerve pill. We went back to Nice for the night, and next morning we drove to Mentone, where I decided that I would rather stay for a long time than anywhere else on the Riviera. It is just the sweetest, dearest little picture-place, with the natural, country peacefulness that others lack, and yet there's all the gaiety and life of a town. We drove to it along the upper road, which is almost startlingly magnificent. I asked Brown to go slowly, so that we might sip the scenery instead of bolting it. Though the Napier could have gone romping up the steep road out of Nice to the Observatory, and on to quaint La Turbie, I chose a pace of six or seven miles an hour, often stopping at picturesque corners to drink in sapphire draughts of sea and sky. Coming this way from Nice to Mentone we skipped Monte Carlo altogether, only looking down from La Turbie on its roofs, on the glittering Casino, and the gloomy, rock-set castle of Monaco.

And, oh, by the way, Jimmy wasn't with us on that drive, nor has he joined us yet, though he threatens to (if that word isn't too ungracious) a little farther on in Italy. He stayed behind in Nice to take care of Lord Lane. Aunt Mary thinks that shows such a sweet disposition; but I'm not sure. I believe that Montie is a marquis.

We stopped near Mentone, at Cap Martin, which of course you don't know, as it's rather new. And it was lovely there, up high on a hill, among sweet-smelling pines. It was pleasant to be alone with Aunt Mary again, and I was nicer to her than I have been, I'm afraid, since Pau and Jimmy. I should have loved to stay a long while (and it would be jolly to come back for the carnival, though I don't suppose we shall), but there was such a thrill in the thought of Italy being near that I grew restless. Italy! Italy! I heard the name ringing in my ears like the "horns of elfland."

Now we are in it-Italy, I mean, not elfland, though it seems much the same to unsophisticated me for mystery and colour; and it is good to have warm-hearted Christmas for our first day. The one jarring note in the Italian "entrance music" was at the frontier. I think I wrote you how, when we landed at Dieppe from England, about a hundred years ago, I had to pay a deposit to the custom-house for the right to take my car into France. That money I should have got back at Mentone on leaving the country if the late-lamented Dragon had still been in existence, but as it vanished in smoke and flame the money has vanished too. Brown, however (or, rather, Brown's master), paid a similar deposit on the Napier, and passing the French custom-house on the outskirts of Mentone, the Lightning Conductor asked my permission to stop, that he might present Mr. Winston's papers and get the money back to send to England.

So far, so good; but it was dusk when we left the Cap Martin (as we'd spent the day in exploring Mentone), and the custom-house people have detained us some time; it was dark, cloudy, and windy when we moved on again towards Italy. A douanier mounted by Brown's side (I was with Aunt Mary in the tonneau) to conduct us to the last French post, where we dropped him; and in few yards farther we were in Italy. Maybe you remember that the frontier is marked by a wild chasm, cleft in the high mountains which hurl themselves down to the very margin of the sea. Over the splendid chasm is the Pont St. Louis, and through the very middle of the stone bridge runs the invisible "frontier line."

I thought I saw a sentry box on the Italian side, but it was too dark to be sure; and one has to go a good way up the steep mountain road before one reaches the office of the douane. Here Brown pulled up, as two slouching men in blue-grey overcoats, with rifles slung over their backs, came forward to meet us. Our Lightning Conductor is always very courteous in dealing with foreign officials. He says it "smooths things"; and now, seeing that the men intended to stop us, he politely expressed the wish to pass, offering to pay whatever deposit was demanded. Though I have only the smallest smattering of Italian, I could understand pretty well what followed. The men refused to let us pass. Brown argued the matter; he produced a passport, which the two men inspected by the light of a lantern. They appeared impressed, but still refused us passage, saying that the office was closed for the night, that the chief had gone, and that there was no one who could make out the necessary papers. "But it is monstrous!" cried Brown. "Is this Italian hospitality? Do you suggest that the ladies should remain here on the road till morning?" The douaniers shrugged their shoulders. "There are plenty of good hotels in Mentone," said one. "Go back there."

"No," said Brown, "I will not go back. Where does the chief of the bureau live?" The douaniers refused to tell. Clearly they did not want a "wigging" for letting loose an imperious Englishman upon their chief, reposing after his dinner. By this time an interested crowd of ten or twelve persons had assembled, their shadowy forms seeming to rise out of the ground. I heard a voice in French whisper into my ear, "I am of France, and all these Italians are pigs. The chef de douane lives in Mortola, the first village up the road"; and before I could look round to thank him, the friendly Frenchman was swallowed up in darkness. I called Brown and gave him the news. He asked if we minded being left alone while he went to fetch the chief, saying we should be quite safe in charge of the douaniers; and on our agreeing strode off up the steep road, one of the guards immediately padding silently after him. We sat and waited perhaps half an hour on the threshold of Italy, our lamps casting their rays into the country we were forbidden to enter, when I heard Brown's voice and the sound of footsteps. By some persuasion he had induced the chef de douane to return with him. The office doors were thrown open, the gas was lighted, the necessary papers were made out, the deposit paid, and then, at Brown's invitation, the agreeable official mounted into the car, and we ran quickly up the hill to his house.

It was a thrilling drive from the frontier to Bordighera. A great wind coming salt off the sea was moaning along the face of the mountains, completely drowning the comforting hum of our motor. The road mounted up and up, terrific gusts striking the car as it came out into exposed places. Far below we heard the thunder of mighty waves dashing on the rock. Then we began to descend a steep and twisting road that led up presently to low ground, not much above the sea, where the wind shrieked down the funnel of a river-bed. Then up again along another face of cliff under cyclopean walls of masonry, and down a sudden shoot between houses into the old, old town of Ventimiglia; across a river and a plain, to be pulled up presently by a very dangerous obstacle-a huge beam of wood, unlighted, and swung across the road to guard a level crossing. Our great acetylene eye, glaring ahead, gave Brown ample warning, and we slowed down, then stopped, while a train thundered past. Very deliberately a signalman presently came to push the barrier aside, and we darted on through a long, straggling village, turned away from the sea, found a large iron gate with a lamp over it, standing hospitably open, and twisting through a fairy-like garden studded with gigantic palms, drew up in a flood of light that poured from the door of a large white hotel. To walk into the big, bright hall, to hear pleasant English voices, to see nice men and pretty girls dressed for dinner and waiting for the stroke of the gong, was an extraordinary contrast to the roaring blackness of the night outside. Everyone turned to stare at us as we came in masked and goggled like divers.

This morning I waked up and looked out of my window a little before seven. It was just sunrise and the wind had died. Under my eyes lay the garden, lovely as Eden, garlands of roses looped from orange trees to palms; banks of heliotrope, and sweetness unutterable. Then, a waving sea of palms, with here and there the glow of a scarlet roof, and beyond the sea. The rising sun shone on it and on the curved line of coast, with Monte Carlo and Mentone gleaming like pearl. Floating up on the horizon I saw a shadowy blue shape of an island, hovering like a ghost, and as I looked it vanished suddenly as a broken bubble, leaving the sea blank. I thought it must have been a mirage; but by-and-by a soft-speaking, fawn-eyed maid called Apollonia told me it was Corsica, which only shows itself sometimes early in the morning when the sun is at a certain height and usually after a storm.

We breakfasted in our sitting-room, with delicious honey for our crisp rolls, and afterwards, when I went downstairs to send your cable, I found the hall smelling like a forest of balsam firs. It was decorated for Christmas, and the whole hotel seemed full of a sort of joyous, Christmas stir, so that it was more like a jolly, big country-house than a hotel.

Then I found out that this hotel is famous for its Christmas celebration. Everyone stopping there was supposed to be the landlord's guest at a wonderful dinner, a regular feast, with dozens of courses, ending up with crackers, which we all pulled. Last of all the dining-room was darkened, and a long procession of waiters glided in bearing illuminated ices-green, crimson, gold, and rose. We clapped our hands and laughed, just like children, and the landlord had to make a little speech. Altogether everything was so friendly and Christmasy that the most gloomy misanthrope could not have felt homesick. I supposed when dinner was over that the special festivities were at an end. But no, quite the contrary. Everyone trooped into a huge picture-panelled recreation-room, which had been the scene of secret preparation all day, and there was a giant Christmas-tree, sparkling with pretty decorations, and heavy with presents for each person in the hotel, all provided by the landlord. We drew them with numbers, and I got a charming inlaid box with a secret opening; Aunt Mary had a little silver vase. There was music, too; harps and violins. I was sorry that poor Brown was cut off from all the fun. But I did give him a present. You know he refuses tips, so I couldn't offer him money; but the other day at Cannes he was looking rather worried, and it turned out that something-I didn't understand exactly what, for he was rather vague in his answers-had happened to his watch. I didn't say much then, but in Monte Carlo I bought him quite a decent one for fifty dollars (he really does deserve it), and gave it to him this morning with a "merry Christmas." You've no idea how pleased he was. He seemed quite touched.

There! a bell somewhere is striking midnight. Good-bye, dearest. My thoughts have been full of you all day.

YourMolly.

JIMMY PAYNE TO CHAUNCEY RANDOLPH

Grand Hotel, Rome, December 27.

Dear Mr. Randolph,

I find myself in a difficult position, but I am going to take the bull by the horns and write to you of certain things which seem to me of importance. I trust to your friendship and your knowledge of my feelings and desires towards Molly to excuse me if you consider that I am being officious. You will understand when I have explained that I cannot hope to make her see the matter in its true light; but you, as a man and her father, will do so, and will comprehend that my motive is for her protection.

I have thanked you already for answering my letter, in which I begged that you would let me know in which part of Europe Molly was travelling, and she has told me that she wrote you of our meeting at Pau. I reached there a couple of days sooner than she and Miss Kedison did. In fact, I saw their arrival in the famous automobile of whose adventures you must have heard much. The minute my eyes lighted upon the chauffeur I felt an instinctive distrust of the man, and I have learned through experience not to disregard the warnings of my instinct. It has served me more than one good turn in the street when the markets were wobbling. Now I have been a good deal chaffed about a resemblance to Sherlock Holmes, the great detective of fiction, but I acknowledge and am proud of that resemblance. I venture to think that it is not wholly confined to externals. A certain detective instinct was born in me. It began to show itself when I was a little boy at school, and since then I have trained and cultivated it, as a kind of higher education of the brain. In several instances I have been able to expose frauds, which, but for the purely impersonal, scientific interest I took in the affairs, might have remained undetected. In these experiments I have made enemies of course; but what matter?

The interest I feel in the case I am about to lay bare to you is not, I confess, purely impersonal. But I hope under the circumstances you will think none the less of me for that.

My first distant glimpse of the man Brown created, as I have said, an unfavourable impression upon my mind. I thought that he had a swaggering air of conceit and self-importance extremely unbecoming in a man of his class. He had the air of thinking himself equal to his betters, which is a dangerous thing in a person entrusted with the care of ladies. My impression was confirmed by some of the tales which Molly told me of her automobile experiences, not only quite unconscious that they militated against her chauffeur, but apparently believing them to his credit. I began to fear that the fellow was one to take advantage of the trust placed in him by two unprotected women, whom he doubtless has guessed to be well provided with money. My definite suspicions went at first no further than this, though there was a kind of detective premonition in my mind that more might remain to be found out. I might have confined myself to tacit disapproval, however, or a word of advice to Molly, and perhaps one stern warning to the man, had I not gone into the golf club at Pau on our last day there. To my intense astonishment I saw Brown on the links attempting to get members to play with him by passing himself off as a gentleman. He wore good clothes, and acted his part fairly well-well enough, perhaps to deceive the unobservant. But he is not the sort of person I should ever mistake for a gentleman. I went up to him, and very quietly ordered him off the links, threatening to expose him publicly. But he whined for mercy, and I, in a moment of weak good nature, let him off, on his promise to go at once. I inquired, however, of the steward what name he had given on seeking admittance, and was startled to find that he had passed himself off as the Honourable John Winston, his late master and the owner of the car which Molly is now using. As I had bound myself to keep silence, I did not betray him, but the fact just discovered confirmed my distrust of the man as a dangerous and unscrupulous person.

For Molly's sake I felt that I must begin investigation, so as to be able in the end to expose Brown and let her see him in his real character; but for several reasons not necessary to trouble you with it was essential to proceed with extreme caution.

It was unbearable to me, knowing even the little I did know at that time of the man's character to allow Molly and Miss Kedison to go wandering over the country alone with him. I feared that he might compromise them in some way, or even resort to blackmail, and with this danger before my mind, I offered to accompany the ladies on their car to the Riviera. I made the suggestion to Miss Kedison, not to Molly, and hinted to her something concerning my motives, cautioning her at the same time that silence was vitally important until I could give her leave to speak. You may think that I was taking a good deal on myself; but I have a great regard for you, as well as an unfortunately deep affection for Molly, and as I have made many intimate friends among the highest in the land, all over the Continent, as in England, I felt that my presence in the car might be especially helpful.

During the first day or two of our journey I caught Brown in several audacious lies. He was insolent to me, evidently afraid that I meant to lose him his berth, and inclined to be so familiar with the ladies, Molly particularly, that my suspicions of him were roused to fever heat. I began to see that his ambitions tended higher than I had at first supposed, and-I hope you will forgive my frankness-I should not be surprised if some day before long Molly should have a startling awakening.

I questioned her carefully as to what Brown had said to her of his late master's movements, and it appeared that, according to the chauffeur, the Honourable John Winston had returned to England, leaving Brown to hire out and drive his automobile. This seemed strange to me, and I asked myself if it were possible that the fellow could have contrived to steal the car, and be using it for his own purposes, taking the money derived from its hire for himself. One thing which encouraged this deduction was the extremely low rent asked for the vehicle and the small wages demanded by Brown. But it was at Toulon that a still more sinister idea was forced into my mind by a startling incident to which I will draw your attention.

You will very likely have heard from Molly that owing to a side-slip which might have happened to anyone in driving an automobile, we had an upset by the roadside, and in common politeness I was compelled to obey Miss Kedison's request to remain with her at a small village, some miles from Toulon, while Molly went on to see a doctor about an injury to her wrist, Brown being her attendant. When Miss Kedison and I arrived at Toulon on the car next day, it was decided to stay the night there rather than go on so late. I saw Brown, who was working outside the hotel at the automobile, take money out of his pocket to pay a man who had been helping him with the repairs. Something small dropped on the ground as he did so, unknown to Brown. When he had moved away, I stooped and picked it up. It was a French pawn-ticket for a pledged watch, dated the previous night. I determined, in the interest of my investigations, to visit the pawnbroker's, which I did; and giving up the ticket, said I had called to redeem the pledge. Imagine my sensations when I saw a magnificent gold repeater, with the monogram "J. W." upon it in small diamonds. The conclusion was obvious, for the watch was not one which would be given by a master even to the most valued servant. I paid something like two hundred and sixty francs to redeem the repeater, and justified such a proceeding to myself by the argument that the watch had assuredly been stolen, and that my action was the most certain way of preserving it for the owner and earning that owner's gratitude, if he still existed. Those last four words, which I have underscored, will enlighten you as to the doubts now materialising in my mind. In fact, I believe this chauffeur a man capable of anything

On returning to the hotel, with the Honourable Mr. Winston's watch in my pocket, I made a few inquiries as to Brown's behaviour the night before; I learned that he had appeared in the salle à manger for dinner, in an irreproachable evening suit which in some way he must have obtained from his master. Perhaps I ought not to repeat what else I learned, as I do not like to tell tales out of school, but I think it is only right you should know that Molly allowed this impostor to sit at the table with her, as if he had been an equal instead of a servant.

I positively dared not let Miss Kedison into the secret of what had happened, but I hinted to her that I had had good reason to think less well of Brown even than before. It was arranged that we should induce Molly to hurry on to Cannes, where Lady Brighthelmston (pronounced "Brighton"), the mother of my friend the Honourable John Winston, was supposed to be staying. I wished to find out from her when she had last heard from her son, and if she were absolutely assured of his present safety. I also intended to show her the watch, and put her in possession of all the deductions and details I had been able to pick up. This once done, Brown's exposure by Lady Brighthelmston and subsequent dismissal by Molly would be only a question of hours.