"Oh, no doubt," replied her daughter with apparent indifference. "One of the younger son variety you meet in and out of England, I fancy."

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Wellington. "Is that why you invited him to sit with us in church? Why you spoke to him on the _General_? Why you wanted me to employ him?"

"I don't know," replied Anne frankly. "He interested me. He does yet.

He is a mystery and I want to solve him."

"May an old woman give you a bit of advice, Anne? Thank you," as her daughter bowed. "Remember he is an employee of this house. He sought the position; he must be down to it. Keep that in your mind--and don't let him drive fast. In the meantime, how about his license?"

Anne stamped her foot.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "I forgot all about that beastly license.

What can we do?" She faced her mother. "Mother, can't you think of something? I know you can arrange it if you will."

"Well," said her mother thoughtfully. Suddenly she looked at her secretary who entered at the moment. "Miss Hatch, you might get Chief Roberts on the 'phone--right away, please. Now, Anne, I am getting nervous; you had better go."

"Yes, mother." Anne dropped a playful curtsey and left the room, smiling.

Half an hour later, Armitage, squeezed into a beautifully made suit of tan whipcord, his calves swathed in putees, and a little cap with vizor pressing flat against his brows, was loitering about the garage with Ryan, a footman, and absorbing the gossip of the family. Prince Koltsoff was still there and intended, evidently, to remain for some time. This information, gained from what Anne Wellington had said to her mother, had relieved his mind of fears that his quarry had already gone, and he would have been quite at his ease had not the thought that the fact of Koltsoff's presence here rather argued against his having the control in his possession, occurred to him. Still, if the Russian had any of the instincts of a gentleman he could hardly break away from the Wellingtons at such short notice, and certainly not if he was, as Thornton surmised, interested in the daughter. Talk about the garage left him in no doubt of this.

If the Prince had the missing part he would do one of three things: hold onto it until he left; mail it; or express it to St. Petersburg.

Benoir, he had learned, carried the Wellington mail as well as express matter to the city, mornings and afternoons. In his absence, Armitage was, he felt, the logical man for this duty. So he did not worry about these contingencies. He had knowledge that up to eight o'clock that morning no package for foreign countries had been either mailed or expressed; this eliminated the fear, which might otherwise have been warrantable, that the package had already been sent on its way to Europe. Besides, no man of Koltsoff's experience would be likely to trust the delivery of so important an object to any but his own hands.

Thus the probabilities were that the thing was at this minute in the Prince's room. If all these suppositions were wrong, then Yeasky had it. Armitage knew enough of the workings of the Secret Service Bureau to know that if the man got out of the country he would be an elusive person indeed, especially as he had a long, livid scar across his left cheek which could not be concealed with any natural effect.

But, somehow, the conviction persisted in Armitage's mind that the Prince had the control. In the short time he had spent at The Crags this impression had not diminished; it had increased, without definite reason, to be sure; and yet, the fact remained. He would find out one way or another shortly. His room, not in the servants' wing, was on the third floor, right over the apartments of the Wellington boys, which in turn were not far from Koltsoff's suite. It would not be long before a burglary would be committed in the Wellington house. At this thought, Armitage thrilled with delightful emotions.

In the meantime he addressed himself to the task of gleaning further information concerning the family into whose employ he had entered. He learned that while Mr. Wellington and his daughter were devoted to motoring, Mrs. Wellington would have none of it, and that the boys were inclined to horses also. Ronald Wellington left things pretty much to his wife and she was a "h.e.l.lian," as Ryan put it, to those about her who were not efficient and faithful. But otherwise, she was a pretty decent sort and willing to pay well.

"What sort are the boys?" asked Armitage, recalling that his duties with them might begin at any time.

"Master Ronald, the oldest, is stuck on himself," replied Ryan. "He ain't easy to get along with. Master Royal, the youngster, is as fine a little chap as ever lived. Ronald is learning himself the cigarette habit; which is all right--the quicker he smokes himself to death the better, if he was n't after learnin' young Muck, as every one calls him, to smoke, too. They do it on the quiet here in the garage, although it's against the rules."

"Why don't you stop them then?" asked Armitage.

Ryan shrugged and laughed.

"If we stopped them we 'd be fired for committin' insult and if they 're caught here we 'll be fired for lettin' 'em smoke. That's the way with those who work for people like the Wellingtons--always between the devil and the deep sea."

"Oh, I don't know," said Armitage, whose combative instincts were now somewhat aroused, "I don't think people get into great trouble for doing their duty, whoever they work for."

The footman grinned.

"Well," he said, "you 'll know more about that the longer you 're here."

As he spoke, the boys under discussion entered the doorway and seating themselves upon the running board of a touring car, helped themselves to cigarettes from a silver case which the elder took from his pocket.

They lighted them without a glance at the two men and had soon filled the atmosphere with pungent smoke.

"Do they do this often?" asked Armitage at length, turning to Ryan and speaking in a voice not intended to be hidden.

The footman grinned and nodded.

"Against the rules, isn't it?" persisted Armitage, much to Ryan's evident embarra.s.sment, who, however, nodded again.

The older boy took his cigarette from his mouth and rising, walked a few steps toward the new chauffeur. He was a slender stripling with high forehead, long, straight nose, and a face chiefly marked by an imperious expression. In his flannels and flapping Panama hat he was a reduced copy of such Englishmen as Armitage had seen lounging in the boxes at Ascot or about the paddock at Auteuil.

"Were you speaking of us, my man?" he said.

A gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt crossed Armitage's face.

"I--I believe I was, my boy. Why?"

A corner of the youth's upper lip curled and snapping the half-burnt cigarette into a corner he took another from the case and lighted it.

"Oh," he said nodding, "you are the new man. Impertinence is not a good beginning. I 'm afraid you won't last."

Armitage crossed quickly to the discarded cigarette which was smouldering near a little pool of gasoline under a large can of that dangerous fluid, and rubbed the fire out with his foot. Returning, he confronted the boy, standing very close to him.

"Look here, son," he said quietly, "that won't do a bit, you know.

It's against the rules, and besides," jerking his head in the direction of the gasoline can, "you have n't any sense."

Ronald's emotions were beyond the power of words to relieve. As he stood glaring at Armitage, his face devoid of color, his eyes green with anger, the chauffeur placed his hand gently upon his arm.

"You can't smoke here, I tell you. There 's a notice over there to that effect signed by your father. Now throw that cigarette away; or go out of here with it, as you like."

By way of reply, Ronald jerked his arm from Armitage's grasp and swung at his face with open hand. It was a venomous slap, but it did not come within a foot of the mark for the reason that Jack deftly caught the flailing arm by the wrist and with a powerful twist brought young Wellington almost to his knees through sheer pain of the straining tendons. As this happened, the younger brother with a shrill cry of rage launched himself at Armitage, who caught him by the waist and swung him easily up into the tonneau of the touring car.

Ronald had risen to his feet and in cold pa.s.sion was casting his eye about the garage. A heavy wrench lay on the floor; he stepped towards it, but not too quickly for Armitage to interpose. Slowly the latter raised his finger until it was on a level with the boy's face.

"Now, stop just a minute and think," he said. "I like your spirit, and yours, too, kid," he added, gazing up at the tonneau from which the younger Wellington was glaring down like a bellicose young tiger, "but this won't go at all. Now wait," as Ronald tried to brush past. "In the first place, if your mother hears you have been smoking in the garage--or anywhere else--you 'll get into trouble with her, so Ryan has told me. And I don't believe that's any fun. . . . Now--listen, will you? I am employed here as physical instructor for you chaps, not as a chauffeur--although your sister has been good enough to press me into service for a day or two--and I imagine I 'm going to draw pay for making you into something else than thin-chested cigarette fiends. I can do it, if you 'll help. How about it?" he said, smiling at Ronald.

"Will you be friends?"

Ronald, who had worked out of his pa.s.sion, sniffed.

"Thank you, I had rather not, if you don't mind. I think you will find that you don't like your place."

"Well," said Armitage affably, "then I can leave, you know."

"Yes, you can, all right; it 'll be sooner than you think. Come on, Muck," and the older brother turned and left the garage.

Muck, who for the past few seconds had been gazing at Armitage with wide eyes, slipped down from the car and stood in front of him.

"Say," he exclaimed, "you 're the fellow I gave that note to in church--the one from my sister--are n't you?"

He grinned as Armitage looked at him dumbly.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I shan't tell. Sister gave me a five-dollar gold piece. I thought you did n't act like a chauffeur.

Say, show me that grip you got on Ronie, will you? He has been too fresh lately,--I want to spring it on him. Can I learn it?"

"Not that one." Armitage took the boy's hand, his thumb pressing back of the second knuckle, his fingers on the palm. He twisted backward and upward gently. "There 's one that's better, though, and easier.

See? Not that way," as the boy seized his hand. "Press here. That's right. Now you 've got it. You can make your brother eat out of your hand."