"
Sir George turned on his heel.
"Very good!" he said. "I will go and take rooms elsewhere."
He left the hotel, and walked towards the Ritz. At the corner of the
Place Vendome an automobile was pulled up with a jerk within a few feet
of him. A tired-looking boy leaned over wearily towards him from the
front seat.
"Sir George," he said, "can you give me five minutes?"
"With pleasure!" he answered. "I was going into the Ritz. Come and have
something."
"To Maxim's, if you don't mind," the Vicomte said. "It will take us only
a moment."
Sir George stepped in. The Vicomte, in whose fingers the wheel seemed
scarcely to rest, so light and apparently careless was his touch,
touched a lever by his side, released the clutch, and swung the great
car round the corner at a speed which made Duncombe grasp the sides. At
a pace which seemed to him most ridiculous, they dashed into the Rue de
Rivoli, and with another sharp turn pulled up before Maxim's. The
Vicomte rose with a yawn as though he had just awoke from a refreshing
dream. His servant slipped off his fur coat, and he descended to the
pavement faultlessly dressed and quite unruffled.
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