The Pit Prop Syndicate

try through which he was riding. Early that morning he had left Pau, and with the exception of an hour and a half at Bayonne, where he had lunched and paid a short business call, he had

end," he thought. "I really

h side indicated a bridge. He cut off his engine and, allowing the machine to coast, brought it to a stand at

t of a pine forest, in its own way as melancholy. The road seemed isolated, cut off from the surrounding country, like to be squeezed out of existence by the overwhelming barrier on either flank, a screen, aromatic indeed, but dark, gloomy, and forbidding. Nor was the prospect improved by the long, unsightly gashes which the resin collecto

g was very still. The river curved away gently towards the left, flowing black and sluggish between its flat banks, on which the pines grew down to the water

the firm of Edwards & Merriman, Wine Merchants, Gracechurch Street, London, he annually made a tour of the exporters with whom his firm dealt. He had worked across the south of the country from Cette to Pau, and was

tarily, was to change his whole life, and not only his, but the lives of a number of other people of whose existence he was not then aware, was to lead to sorrow as well as

used itself on the driver. He was a man of about thirty, good-looking, with thin, clear-cut features, an aquiline nose, and dark, clever-looking eyes. Dressed though

rt of some large and massive machine. On the side of the deck was a brass plate bearing the words in English "The Landes Pit-Prop Syndicate, No. 4." Merriman was som

le. But his troubles for the day were not over. On the ground below his tank was a stain, and

ottom of the tank by a union, and the nut, working slack, had allowed a small but steady leak. He tightene

at's the second time that confou

perhaps two. Of course, he could stop the first car that approached, and no doubt borrow enough petrol to make the city, but all day he

t before his petrol gave out. It was true he was going in the wrong direction, and if he failed he would be still farther from his g

eed. But he had not more than started when he noticed his quar

at road," thought Merr

he surface was badly cut up with wheel tracks, so much so that Merriman decided he could not ride it. He therefore dismounted, hid his bicycle among the trees, and pushed on down the lane on foot. He

er trees. The surface was the virgin soil of the forest on

, as he rounded one of the bends

s not remarkable, but this girl seemed so out of place amid such surrou

or. She wore a brown jumper, brown skirt, brown stockings and little brown brogued shoes. As she came closer, Merriman saw that her eyes, friendly, honest eyes, were a shade of golden brown, and that a hint of

east Merriman pu

rench, "but can you tell me if I could get some petrol cl

rutinizing glance. Apparently satisf

to the mill and my father will

with no semblance of a French accent-the French

glish!" he cri

ughed

hy shouldn't I be English? But I don't th

ctedness of meeting a fellow-countryman in this ou

ter all?" she said relentlessly, and then: "I can

u are a

u may imagine. But it's not such a bad country as it looks. At fi

ere now walking together between th

an slowly. "I wonder if we ha

died some years ago we have lived ver

told her of his day's ride. She listened eagerly, and it was borne in upon him that she was lonely, and delighted

y made, for the tops of many of the tree-stumps dotted thickly over the ground were still white. Round the semicircle of the forest trees were lying cut,

from the shadow of the trees. On its bank, forming a center to the cleared semicircle, was a building, evidently the mill. It was a small place, consisting of a single long narrow galvanized iron shed, and placed parallel to the river. In front of the shed was a tiny

iman exclaimed ra

ey are drier they will be shipped across. My father joined with some others in putting up the capit

e everything handy-trees handy, river handy-I suppose fro

own motor ship specially built and always runn

d again. "Splendid! And

e of the mill. It was a rough, but not uncomfortable-looking building of galvanized iron, one-storied and with

irl n

ed, "and oh, the fires! I've never seen such glorious wood fires as we ha

I wish we had

building. As the two came up, Merriman once more ran his eye idly over the vehicle. And then he felt a sudden mild surprise, as one feels when some unexpected though quite trivial incident takes place. He had felt sure that this lorry standing at the mill door was that which

trifling interest became mystification. The lorry was the same. At least there on the top was the casting, just as he had seen it. It was inconceivable t

lit, and a splinter of curious shape had partially entered a bolt hole. He recalled now, though it had slipped from his memory, that he had notice

ht not. In fact, he was certain. He recalled the shape of the 4, which had an unusually small hollow in the middle. There was no shadow of doubt of

d her voice was sharpened as from anxiety. "

was pale. She was frowning, and in her eyes there showed unmistakable fea

ge. He had stopped and was staring at Merriman with an intense regard in which doubt and suspicion rapi

h barely disguised relief in her tone

his eyes and stooped over his engine; Merriman turn

er of the number plate. But it was equally clear to him that his companion wished to ignore the affair, and he therefore expelled it from his

kinned, and with a pallid complexion made still paler by his dark hair and eyes and a tiny mustache, almost black and w

m, still with some pert

is gentleman is cycling to Bordeaux and has run out of petrol. He asked me i

hough searching and suspicious glance, but h

and spoke in French. "I shall be very pleased

t's very good of you, I'm sure, and I'm sorry to be giving so much trouble. A

trouble at all." He turned and sp

said something in a low voice. The other started slightly, for a moment l

er can to where you have left your machine,"

often that we have the pleasure of mee

re and surprise is as nothing to mine. You are not on

e is no place in the whole of France where you might go farther without

shook h

wards & Merriman, Wine Merchants of London. I'm Merriman, Seymou

My name is Coburn. You see I am trying

nd looked at the girl-"Miss Coburn told me wh

ake it pay very well. I suppose

ux, sir, then I'm o

n had appeared with a red can of Shell. "Well, Mr. Merriman, a pleasant journey to you. You will excuse my not going farther with y

ed to pay for the petrol and, cutting short the other's

onship, and Merriman no less ready to prolong so delightful an interview. But in spite of the pleasure of their conversation, he co

lk, "I'm afraid I upset your lorry man someh

careless, changed suddenly, becoming constrained and a

nri. He was badly shell-shocked, you kno

relative. "Both my brothers suffered from it. They were pretty bad, bu

joined, and quietly but dec

his bicycle to the road, he could no longer with decency find an excuse for remaining in her company. H

ot so sure. The more he thought over the affair, the more certain he felt that he had not made a mistake about the number plate, and the more likely it appeared that the driver had guessed what he, Merriman, had noticed, and resented it. It see

done, it was a trivial matter and, so far as he could see, the motives for it, as well as its consequences, must be trivial. It was intriguing, but no one could imagine it to be import

tion, and many times he regretted he had not taken an opportunity of re