Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-08-21
CHAPTER VIII.
Breakers Ahead

peare was certainly justified by current
events; for Dromio of Ephesus and Dromio
of Syracuse, to say nothing of their masters,
were no bad prototypes OF the chief actors
in this Bristol comedy.
Simmonds, not knowing who might have
it in mind to investigate the latest defect in
his car decided it would be wise to disappear
until Viscount Medenham was we'll quit of
Bristol. By arrangement with Dale, there
fore, he picked up the latter soon after the
Mercury was turned over to Medenham's
hands; in effect, one chauffeur took the
other on a bus drivers holiday. Dale was
free until two o'clock. At that hour he
would depart for Hereford and meet his
master, with arrangements made for the
night as usual; meanwhile, the days pro-
gram included pleasant little run 10 Bath
and back.
1t was morning that tempted to the
road; but both men had risen early, and
pint of beer seemed to be an almost indis-
pensable preliminary.
Dale, it will be remembered, was of sport
ing bent, and he told Simmonds gleefully of
his successful bet at Epson.
"Five colleen quidlets his Lordship showed
into me fist at Brighton" he chortled.
the Frenchman's Du Vallonl No? Well, he
was there, an his goggles nearly cracked
when he saw the money paid points
over the market price, an all.
Sometimes one spots a winner by
chanst," observed Simmonds judicially.
An that reminds me. Last night fellow
tole me there was good thing at Kempton
to-day. Now, what was iti
Dale instantly became lexicon of weird
sounding words; for the British turf is ex-
eeedingly democratic in its pronunciation of
the classical and foreign names frequently
given to racehorses. His stock of racing lore
was eked out by reference to local paper.
Still Simmonds scratched an uncertain pate.
"Pity, tool" he said at last. This chap
had it from his newly, who married the sis
ter of housemaid at Beckhampton"
Dale whistled. Here was news indeed!
Beckhampton, the home of good things!
rs that where it comes FROM"
"YeS. Something real hot over mile"
Cant you Think Let's look again at
the entries"
"Wait bit" cried Simmonds. 1--WE got
it now. Second horse from the top of the
column in to-morrow's entries in yester-
days Sportsman.
"Tell you wat" Dale suggested eagerly,
"when you're ready we'll just run to the
station an arsk the bookstall people for yes
terday's paper"
TIC inquiry, Tile ScdICIl, TIC IliuIllplidlI
discovery, the telegraphing of the informa-
ton and sovereign to Tomkinson in Cav
endish Square. five bob each way" for each
of the two, all these things took time, and
time was very precious to Dale just then.
|nALE was about to seat himself beside
= Simmonds, when an astonished and
somewhat irate old man hooked the handle
of an umbrella into his collar and shouted:
"Confound you. Dale! What are you do
ing here, and where is your master?"
Dale's tanned face grew pale. his ears and
eyes assumed the semblance of scared rab-
bits, and the power of speech positively
failed him.
do you hear me, Dale2" cried the Earl,
that instant alighted from a cab. Il am
asking you where Viscount Medenham is.
If he has gone to town, why have you re-
manned in BRISTOL"
but his Lordship hasn't gone to London,
my Lord" suffered Dale, finding his voice
at last and far too fustered to collect his
wits, though he realized in dazed way that
lit was his duty to act exactly as Viscount