"Mademoiselle's name," he recited in a high singsong, "is Marie Le
Clair. She is a nurse, on her way to the hospital at Carrefonds. And
this is Jacques Carton, who is her chauffeur?"
A singularly stupid person, on the whole, he must have thought me,
hardly fit to be trusted with so superb a car. My mouth, I fancy, was
wide open; I can't swear that I wasn't pop-eyed. This last development
had complete addled me. Marie Le Clair! Jacques Carton! Who were they?
"I wish," I remarked into the air as we drove on, "that some one would
pinch me--hard."
She smiled faintly. Now it was over, she looked a little tremulous.
"Oh, no," she answered, "we were not dreaming. Poor Georges! I wish we
were!"
Such was the incredible beginning of our adventure. And as it began,
so it continued. We breakfasted at Le Moreau. Miss Falconer ate in the
dining-room of the small hotel; I sought the kitchen and, warmed by our
late success, I did not shrink from playing my role. Then we resumed our
journey, and though we showed our papers twenty times at least as the
control grew stricter, they were never challenged.
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