Ronnie looked round. He did not know the chauffeur who was touching his cap. And yet he had seen his face.
"I thought you may have missed the car—I had to park away from the prison."
Of course! He breathed a heavy sigh as the problem was solved. It was his own car and the chauffeur's name was Parker.
"I haven't the slightest idea where I was going," he laughed. "You look cold, Parker. We had better stop in Wechester and get breakfast."
Parker could only gape.
"Yes, sir," he stammered, "but don't worry about me, sir. I shall be all right."
Ronnie was puzzling again. Then he had it. The Red Lion! There was an inn just outside of Wechester; he had stopped there before. Apparently Parker expected some such directions.
They left the mists behind them at Wechester and came to the Red Lion.
A pretty girl waitress at the hotel saw Ronnie and tossed her head. Her manner was cold. He couldn't remember.
That was the oddness of it. He had lost some of his memories. They were completely blotted out from his mind. Why was this pretty girl so cross? He was to learn. Finishing his breakfast he strolled out into the big yard where the car was garaged. The chauffeur was at his breakfast.