The Car of Destiny

								

Casa Trianas; nor that my father was banished from Spain. For the King was
not born, therefore he was not responsible; so why should I blame him for
anything that has happened to me?
It was perhaps ill-judged to visit my father's land, since to him it had
been a land forbidden. But a few months after his death, when I was
twenty-one, the longing to see Spain had become an obsession. And it must
have been my evil star which influenced an anarchist to throw a bomb at a
royal personage on the very day I arrived at Barcelona, thinly "disguised"
under an English name.
My identity was discovered at once, as the son of the great dead Carlist.
I was suspected and clapped into a cell, to wait until my innocence could
be proved. This was not easy; but, on the other hand, there was no proof
against me; and after an experience which scourged my pride and emptied my
purse, I was released, only to be politely but firmly advised never again
to show the undesirable face of a Casa Triana in Spain.
It was after this that I flung myself off to Russia, and through friendly
influence got a commission in the army. I had some adventures in the Boxer
rising; and though Heaven knows I have no grudge against the Japanese, the
fight I made later on the Russian side gave me something to do for two
years. After the Peace with Idleness, came the motor mania, and I thought
of nothing else for a time. But when you have run your car for months,
motoring for its own sake ceases to be all in all. You ask yourself what
country you would like best to visit with the machine you love.
Pride kept me from answering that question with the name of "Spain"; but
it was because Biarritz is at the door of Spain that I had just invited
Dick Waring--the best of friends, the most delightful of Americans, who
fought side by side with me, for fun, in China--to drive there in my Gloria
car.
"Yes, they knew when I went to Barcelona," I admitted; for Dick was
familiar with the story. "But that was different. Anyhow, I'm going to
Biarritz, whatever happens. You can do as you like."
"If you will go, I'll go too," said Dick; "and if anything happens I'll
be in it with you. But you may regret your rashness."
"I've never yet regretted rashness," I said. "Things done on impulse
always turn out for the best."
So we started from Paris the next day, and had a splendid run, through
scenery to set the spirit singing in tune with the thrumming of the motor.
Whatever was to happen in Biarritz, and I was far enough from guessing
then, nothing happened by the way; and we arrived on a morning of blue and
gold.
We put up at a private hotel out of the way from fashionable
thoroughfares; and, as my childhood and early youth were passed in
England, I could use an English name without making myself ridiculous by a
foreign accent. As for my brown face and black eyes, many a Cornishman has