"Yes!... Yes!"
The sergeant laughed silently.
"Very well, then! I should say you were in luck! Now I am going to tell you where your car is!"
The chauffeur beamed. "You know where my car is?"
"I do—a bare fifteen minutes ago it was found in the—open fields, on Father Flory's land, some seventeen hundred yards from the Motteville station.... Father Flory saw it when driving his cattle to pasture: he asked himself if the car had not fallen from the skies during the night!"
The hotel-keeper and chauffeur stared at each other. What had possessed the fugitives to steal the car and then cast it away in the open fields, so near the scene of their theft?... The devil was in it?
The hotel-keeper had an idea they had fled to avoid paying his bill. The chauffeur cared only to get to the car as quickly as possible, to assure himself that it was his car, and was not injured beyond repair.
After much haggling it was arranged that a little cart and horse should take him to the desired spot. Meanwhile the hotel-keeper was to go about his duties at The Flowery Crossways. The chauffeur must needs return and telegraph to his garage in Paris for funds: he declared he had not a sou on him.
Finally the chauffeur set off; perched on a big white mare which had been rejected time and again by the Remount Department, he took the road at a galloping trot. When he reached Father Flory's field he gave a sigh of satisfaction. He recognised his car. It proved to be in good condition. Whoever had driven it knew what he was about.
"It was the corporal," decided the joyful chauffeur. "That little curé would be afraid of spoiling his little white hands!"