A party of South Americans had made a determined effort to turn Lily out of the first-class carriage where she had settled herself with some difficulty in Paris. It was this at the time unpleasant episode which had made her acquainted with both Captain Stuart and M. Popeau. Captain Stuart had come forward and taken her part, but with very little result. And then, suddenly, there had emerged from the big crowd of travellers a short, stout, quiet-looking man, accompanied by an official with the magic letters P.L.M. on his cap. He had made very short work of the blustering South Americans, and had settled the three—Captain Stuart, Lily Fairfield, and the stout elderly Frenchman—into the carriage. Then, with a bow, he had handed the key of the door leading into the corridor to the man who Lily now knew was Hercules Popeau. Theirs had been the only airy, half-empty compartment in the long, dirty train.
As was natural, the three had become very friendly during the journey, and both Lily’s fellow-travellers, the cheerful, talkative Frenchman, and the silent, quiet Scotsman, had vied with one another to make Miss Fairfield comfortable.
“We shall be at Monte Carlo in a very few minutes!” exclaimed M. Popeau. He spoke good English, but with a strong French accent.
The train went into a tunnel. Then, with a series of groans and squeaks, drew up at what Lily knew must be her final destination, Monte Carlo Station.
They all stepped down from the high railway carriage and waited till the comparatively small crowd of travellers had been seized by the smart-looking hotel porters who had come to meet them. But though Lily glanced eagerly this way and that, she could see no one who in the least reminded her of the Countess Polda, or, indeed, of any person who could be looking out for her.
M. Popeau saw the growing look of discomfiture on his pretty companion’s face. He turned to Captain Stuart: “Mademoiselle must have lunch with us at the Hôtel de Paris, eh?” But Lily shook her head very decidedly, and so, “Very well. Then I will look after our young lady,” he exclaimed in his decided, good-humoured way. “I know what you would call ‘the ropes’ of Monte Carlo. We will now find a nice carriage, and I will accompany her to her destination.”
“I thought of doing that,” said Captain Stuart, a little awkwardly.
M. Popeau shook his head. “No, no! It is more right, more convenable, that I should go. Am I not our friend’s temporary guardian?”
They all three smiled at what had become by now a special little joke, and gratefully Lily followed the two men up the broad steps which looked more like those in a palace than in a railway station, till they reached the road running through the beautiful, tropical-looking gardens, which always seem to have an unreal touch of fairyland about them.
M. Popeau again turned to Captain Stuart: “You will not require a carriage,” he said briskly. “The Hôtel de Paris is close by. Tell the manager that you are with me, and ask him to give you a good room, with the same view as mine. Say I am joining you at déjeuner. Oh, and Mon Captaine? One word more——”