“I’ll go one better than that. I’ll give you three hundred a year—twenty-five pounds a month, and all found; but, mark you, you had better insure your life, for I’ve had some uncommonly narrow squeaks.”
“I’ll take the risk,” said Wynyard. “Would you mind telling me what is your idea of a narrow squeak?”
“Well, once crossing a railway line an express missed me by twenty seconds; another was when the car ran backwards down a pass in the Tyrol, and over the bridge at the bottom; that time the chauffeur was killed. I’m keeping his family, of course—and henceforth I bar married men! I broke three ribs and a leg; however, we won’t dwell on these unpleasant memories. Do you think you will be ready to start in a week? The car is down at Coventry. I’ll fetch her up day after to-morrow.”
“I shall be ready; but I have one stipulation to make.”
“All right—let’s have it.”
“As a chauffeur my name is Owen—not Wynyard.”
“Same thing to me. Uncle objects, eh?”
“I suppose Miss Toye will accept a week’s notice?”
“Of course she will,” declared Masham. “We will have a day or two at Brookwood, to see how the car travels, and then cross the Channel. Have a drink?”
“Thank you, a small whisky and large soda.”