"Monsieur, I have rather lost my bearings: will you kindly tell me in which direction the nearest railway station lies?"
The driver, who was the mail carrier for Maronne, answered civilly:
"You must go to Motteville, Corporal. At the first cross-roads you come to, turn to the right—keep straight on—that will bring you to the station."
Corporal Fandor-Vinson thanked the man, and started off in the direction indicated.
"All I have to do now," thought he, "is to discover some nice, lonely spot for."...
Shortly after this he sighted a grove with a thick undergrowth. It bordered the road. Fandor rushed his machine into a field, and brought it to a stand-still in the centre of a clump of trees. He alighted.
"That motor is a good goer," said he, "but it is too dangerous a companion—too conspicuous a mark."
As he thought of the stranded bundle of mystery at The Flowery Crossways he laughed. Then he started for the station at a steady pace.
The chauffeur woke. He saw it was nine o'clock.