"Nom de Dieu!" gasped Dallas. "No essence!"
"Impossible, m'sieu!" cried the mécanicien. "I filled the tanks this afternoon."
"Then there must be a leak," snarled Dallas, pale and furious. "It was the escaping essence which we smelled in the garage."
"That cannot be, m'sieu. The tank and piping are new. The essence in the garage came from an overturned bidon. I found it myself, still with the essence"
"Then what the devil is it? I tell you that there is no essence!"
He leaped down upon the road; Sir James did likewise, and the mécanicien produced a measure. A hasty examination showed that the tank was empty.
"It is just as I said," snarled Dallas, furious more at the sudden and unexpected relaxation from his high, nervous exhilaration than at the predicament in which they found . "Get out of the way!" He himself examined the drip cock before the mécanicien could touch it. The tap was firmly closed.
"Then it must be a leak," he growled.
"Impossible, m'sieu," protested the unhappy man.
"Then what is it?"
The mécanicien pulled off his cap and scratched his head. His birdlike face betrayed a growing suspicion.
"If some one at the hotel could have stolen our essence" he began, then broke out explosively: "But the garage was locked! No one could have got in but that camel of a chauffeur of the prince."
"Um! Ah!" observed Sir James pensively. Dallas' face was torn between rage and doubt.
"I have heard of such things," he muttered. "What sort of a pig was he, Armand?"
"I think that he was Hungarian, m'sieu, and a big, ugly brute of a fellow. He was not at all amiable."
"What a beastly low trick," said Sir James calmly, "to leave us stranded for a few francs' worth of petrol!"
Dallas compressed his lips and held his peace. He was far too enraged to express himself appropriately with ladies in the tonneau. The latter had made no comment, but sat awaiting developments in the bewildered silence peculiar to passengers when things go wrong with the motor.
They had stopped on a deserted section of the road, so far as one could discover. Across the bleak, rolling hills a light or two sparkled from some farmhouse, but there was no sign of town or village. Although they were on the highway, it was very possible that they might have to wait for some time before another motor car should pass, as in France automobiling at night is not the popular pastime it is in America, where so many men are engaged in business affairs throughout the day.
In the glare of the lamps, Dallas consulted his road map, and discovered that there was a village about three kilometers ahead of them. He turned to his mécanicien.
"You will have to walk to this place, Saint Croix, Armand," said he. "You will certainly find petrol there. Get a few bidons, and then secure a carriage and return as quickly as you can. If a car arrives in the meantime, we will try to borrow enough to go after you."
The mécanicien hurried off, and Dallas turned to the ladies.
"This is very annoying," said he, "but it ought not to delay us for very long. It looks as if some scoundrel, possibly that animal of the Prince Emilio, has stolen our petrol. It seems to be my unfortunate destiny to try to rescue the Lady Thalia in boats without oars and motor cars without fuel."
"It is not your fault," replied the girl. "The night is lovely, and we are so happy to have made our escape from Emilio and that dreadful Rosenthal that the delay does not matter. I am only sorry to make you so much trouble."
"The moonlight is delicious," murmured the Polish lady, who had pushed up her lunettes.
"I say," observed Sir James, who, being young and British, turned naturally to physical effort as a means of killing time, "wouldn't you like to get out and stretch your—um—ah—take a little stroll?"
"Yes," said Dallas, with irony; "you've had no exercise to-day, barring an hour's swim and shifting half the water in the Channel."
"Nevertheless," said the Lady Thalia, "I should love a little walk."
"And I," said the countess, "a cigarette."
Sir James threw open the door of the tonneau, and handed out the Lady Thalia as if she had been a creation of moon webs and spun glass.
"We will walk down the road a bit, Stephen," said he. "If anything happens, blow your horn."
Dallas grunted, and, pulling out his cigarette case, offered it to the countess, then struck a match, and was forced to admire the glow of the flame against the girl's fresh, lovely features. She threw back her head, and blew the smoke slowly into the face of the outraged moon.
"Tell me," said she, "do you really mean to take us all the way to Turkey?"