The Counts Chauffeur | Page 4

back after him I saw
that his figure was much more bent and his appearance was not half so
smart and well-groomed as the Count's friend.
At one moment I felt absolutely positive that the man had really been
watching me, and was now endeavouring to escape recognition, yet at
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,