My Friend the Chauffeur

								

whitewashed lair
Two or three men were moving about the place (After)                 148
A great white light pounced upon us like a hawk on a
chicken (After)                                                      200

MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR

PART I
TOLD BY RALPH MORAY

I
A CHAPTER OF SURPRISES

"WANTED, LADIES, TO CONDUCT. An amateur
automobilist (English, titled) who drives his
own motor-car accommodating five persons,
offers to conduct two or three ladies, Americans
preferred, to any picturesque centres in Europe which they
may desire to visit. Car has capacity for carrying small luggage,
and is of best type. Journeys of about 100 miles a day. Novel
and delightful way of travelling; owner of car well up in history,
art, and architecture of different countries. Inclusive terms five
guineas a day each, or slight reduction made for extensive
trip. Address--"
When Terry had read aloud thus far, I hastily interrupted him. I wasn't
quite ready yet for him to see that address. The thing needed a little
leading up to; and by way of getting him quickly and safely on to a side
rack I burst into a shout of laughter, so loud and so sudden that he
looked up from the little pink Riviera newspaper of which I was the
proud proprietor, to stare at me.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
I subsided. "The idea struck me so forcibly," said I. "Jolly clever,
isn't it?"
"It's a fake, of course," said Terry. "No fellow would be ass enough to
advertise himself like that in earnest. Probably the thing's been put in
for a bet, or else it's a practical joke."
I had been aware that this, or something like it, would come, but now
that the crisis was at hand I felt qualmish. Terry--known to strangers
as Lord Terence Barrymore--is the best and most delightful chap in the
world, as well as one of the best looking, but like several other
Irishmen he is, to put it mildly, rather hard to manage, especially when
you want to do him a good turn. I had been trying to do him one without
his knowing it, and in such a way that he couldn't escape when he did
know. But the success of my scheme was now being dandled on the knees of
the gods, and at any instant it might fall off to break like an egg.
"I believe it's genuine," I began gingerly, almost wishing that I hadn't
purposely put the pink paper where Terry would be sure to pick it up.
"And I don't see why you should call the advertiser in my paper an ass.
If you were hard up, and had a motor-car--"
"I am hard up, and I have a motor-car."
"What I was going to say is this: wouldn't it be much better to turn
your car into the means of making an honest living, and at the same time
having some rattling good fun, rather than sell the thing for less than
half cost, and not only get no fun at all, but not know how to get out
of the scrape in which you've landed yourself?"
It was Terry's turn to laugh now, which he did, though not uproariously,