"Take him on the box and call him a footman—unless you prefer to make for London right away, madame."
She was emphatic about this.
"I can't, Britten! I must stay in Paris. It is my last chance of seeing Count Joseph before he returns to Vienna for the summer. Oh, is there no way? Is it quite impossible?"
I scratched my head. Something had been inside it for some minutes.
"Would you care to sit on the box beside me, madame?"
She was all ears at this.
"Of course I wouldn't mind. Have I not myself driven a car? Count Mendez taught me at Cannes last year."
"Could you drive this car a little way on the road to Italy?"
"Why, certainly I could. But how would that help us?"
"Supposing," said I, "that you didn't mind my old mackintosh, madame. I've got that, and a leather cap I keep for the cold weather. If you would put them on and sit beside me, I think we might do it. You can drive if there's any necessity to do so."