“Eh? What?”
“Here are our papers, signore,” interrupted the ever-ready chauffeur, and he produced the papers for the officer’s inspection.
He looked at them, bending to read them by the light of the torch which his companion held.
Then, after an officious gesture, he handed them back, saying:
“Benissimo! You may pass!”
Again Hugh was free! Yet he wondered if that examination had been consequent upon the hue and cry set up now that he had escaped from Monaco.
They passed out of the straggling town of Ventimiglia, but instead of turning up the valley by that long road which winds up over the Alps until it reaches the snow and then passes through the tunnel on the Col di Tenda and on to Cuneo and Turin, the mysterious driver kept on by the sea-road towards Bordighera.
Hugh realised that his guide’s intention was to go in the direction of Genoa.
About two miles out of Ospedaletti, on the road to San Remo, Henfrey rapped at the window, and the chauffeur, who was travelling at high speed, pulled up.
Hugh got out and said in French: