'I will leave you my groom to help,' she said, in her stiff French.

Then her eyes fell on Lushington's blood-stained face, and in the same

instant it flashed upon her that the other man was Logotheti. Her jaw

dropped in astonishment.

'Why--good gracious--how's this? Why--it's Monsieur Logotheti himself!

But you'--she turned to Lushington again 'you can't be Mr.

Lushington--good Lord--yes, you are, and in those clothes, too.

And--what have you done to your face?' As her surprise increased she became speechless, while the two men

bowed and smiled as pleasantly as they could under the circumstances.

'Yes, I'm Lushington,' said the Englishman. 'I used to wear a beard.' 'My chauffeur was taken ill suddenly,' said the Greek without a blush,

'and as Miss Donne was anxious to get home I thought there would be no

great harm if I drove the car out myself. I had hoped to find you in so

that I might explain how it had happened, for, of course, Miss Donne

was a little--what shall I say?--a little----' He hesitated, having hoped that Margaret would help him out. After

waiting two or three seconds, Mrs. Rushmore turned on her.

'Margaret, what were you?' she asked with severity. 'I insist upon

knowing what you were.' 'I'm sure I don't know,' Margaret answered, trying to speak easily, as

if it did not matter much. 'It was very kind of Monsieur Logotheti, at

all events, and I'm much obliged to him.' 'Oh, and pray, what has happened to Mr. Lushington?' inquired Mrs.

Rushmore.

'I was on the wrong side of the road, and the car knocked me off my

bicycle,' added Lushington. 'They kindly stopped to pick me up. They

thought I was hurt.' 'Well--you are,' said Mrs. Rushmore. 'Why don't you get into the

automobile and let Monsieur Logotheti take you home?' As it was not easy to explain why he preferred walking in his battered

condition, Lushington said nothing. Mrs. Rushmore turned to her groom,

who was English.

'William,' she said, 'you must have a clothes-brush.' William had one concealed in some mysterious place under the box.

'Clean Mr. Lushington, William,' said the good lady.

'Oh, thank you--no--thanks very much,' protested Lushington.

But William, having been told to clean him, proceeded to do so, gently

and systematically, beginning at his neck and proceeding thence with

bold curving strokes of the brush, as if he were grooming a horse.

Instinctively Lushington turned slowly round on his heels, while he

submitted to the operation, and the others looked on. They had ample

time to note the singular cut of his clothes.




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