The Counts Chauffeur | Page 4

the next I saw the absurdity of such a thought. Sir Charles's face had, I suppose, been impressed upon my memory on the previous evening, and the passer-by merely bore some slight resemblance.
And so I dismissed it from my mind.
A few moments later a man in a frock- coat, probably the jeweller's manager, opened the door, looked up and down the street for a few moments, shot an inquisitive glance at me, and then disappeared within.
I found that the clock on the splash board required winding, and was in the act of doing this when my eyes fell upon a second person who was equally a mystery. This time I felt convinced that I was not mistaken. The fair-moustached young man Henderson went by, but without recognising me.
Did either of the pair recognise the car? If so, what object had they in not acknowledging me?
My suspicions were again aroused. I did not like either of the two men. Were they following my master with some evil intent? In London, and especially in certain cosmopolitan circles, one cannot be too cautious regarding one's acquaintances. They had been slightly too over-dressed and too familiar with the Count to suit me, and I had resolved that if I had ever to drive either of them I would land them in some out-of-the-world hole with a pretended break-down. The non-motorist is always at the mercy of the chauffeur and the so-called "break- downs" are frequently due to the vengeance of the driver, who gets his throttle stuck, or some trouble which sounds equally serious, but which is remedied in one, two, three, or four hours, according to how long the chauffeur decides to detain his victim by the roadside.
I wondered, as I sat ruminating, whether these two men were really "crooks," and so deep-rooted were my suspicions that I decided, when the Count returned, to drop him a hint that we were being watched.
I am not nervous by any means and, moreover, I always carry for my own protection a handy little revolver. Yet I admit that at that moment I felt a decidedly uncomfortable feeling creeping over me.
Those men meant mischief. I had detected it in their eyes on the previous night. By some kind of mysterious intuition I became aware that we were in peril.
Almost at the moment the shop-door was opened by the manager, and the Count, emerging, crossed to me and said:
"Go into the shop, Ewart, and wait there till I return. I'm just going round to get some money," and seeing a boy passing, he called him, saying, "Just mind this car for ten minutes, my boy, and I'll give you half-a-crown. Never mind the police; if they say anything, tell them I'll be back in ten minutes."
The lad, eager to earn a trifle, at once consented, and descending, I entered the shop, the door of which was being still held open for me, while the Count hailed a hansom and drove away.
The shop is one of the finest in Bond Street, as you know. At that moment there were, however, no other customers. The manager politely invited me to be seated, saying:
"His lordship will only be a short time," and then, standing with his hands behind his back, he commenced to chat with me.
"That's a very fine car of yours," he said. "You ought to be able to travel pretty fast, eh?"
"Well, we do, as a matter of fact," I replied.
Then he went to the door, and looking over the panes of frosted glass, asked what horse-power it was, and a number of other questions with which non-motorists always plague the chauffeur.
Then, returning to me, he remarked what a very nice gentleman his lordship was, adding that he had been a customer on several occasions.
"Have you been long in his service?" he inquired.
"Oh, yes," I replied, determined not to be thought a new hand. "Quite a long time. As you say, he is a very charming man."
"He's very wealthy, according to report. I read something about him in the papers the other day -- a gift of some thousands to the Hospital Fund."
This rather surprised me. I never remembered having seen the name of Count Bindo di Ferraris in the papers.
Presently I got up, and wandering about the shop, inspected some of the beautiful jewels in the fine show-cases, many of them ornaments of enormous value. The manager, a pleasant, elderly man, took me round and showed me some of the most beautiful jewellery I had ever seen. Then, excusing himself, he retired to the office beyond the shop, and left me to chat with one of the assistants.
I looked at the clock, and saw that nearly half an hour had elapsed since the Count had left. A constable had looked in and inquired about the car, but