A tale of genteel, smart scoundrelism, and is very ingenious as it keeps the hero of the seeming autobiography somewhat in the dark, thus avoiding explanations of the numerous "coups," and more sordid reasons for the breathless rides en automobile, at the same time stifling the conscience of the reader, as it conveys a verisimilitude of partial innocence throughout on the part of the Count's Chauffeur.
'In Paris, in Rome, in Florence, in Berlin, in Vienna -- in fact, over half the face of Europe, from the Pyrenees to the Russian frontier -- I am now known as "The Count's Chauffeur."'
I wondered, as I sat ruminating, whether these two men were really "crooks"; and so deep-rooted were my suspicions that I decided, when the Count returned, to drop him a hint that we were being watched.
I am not nervous by any means, and, moreover, I always carry for my own protection a handy little revolver. Yet I admit that at that moment I felt a decidedly uncomfortable feeling creeping over me.
Those men meant mischief. I had detected it in their eyes on the previous night. By some kind of mysterious intuition I became aware that we were in peril.
Almost at that moment the shop door was opened by the manager, and the Count, emerging, crossed to me and said--
"Go into the shop, Ewart, and wait there till I return. I'm just going round to get some money," and seeing a boy passing, he called him, saying, "Just mind this car for ten minutes, my boy, and I'll give you half a crown. Never mind the police; if they say anything, tell them I'll be back in ten minutes."