"Secretaries I have had." No. 1, a murderer fleeing from justice. No. 2, a secret drinker who carries on disreputable intrigues in Italy. No. 3, a beautiful girl who possesses the useful faculty of being in two places at once. No. 4, Miss Pettigrew, who, I have no doubt, is really a particularly dangerous crook in disguise! Probably one of Pagett's Italian friends that he has palmed off on me. I shouldn't wonder if the world found some day that it had been grossly deceived by Pagett. On the whole, I think Rayburn was the best of the bunch. He never worried me or got in my way. Guy Pagett has had the impertinence to have the stationery trunk put in here. None of us can move without falling over it.
I went out on the observation platform just now, expecting my appearance to be greeted with hails of delight. Both the women were listening spellbound to one of Race's travellers' tales. I shall label this car—not "Sir Eustace Pedler and Party," but "Colonel Race and Harem."
Then Mrs. Blair must needs begin taking silly photographs. Every time we went round a particularly appalling curve, as we climbed higher and higher, she snapped at the engine.
"You see the point," she cried delightedly. "It must be some curve if you can photograph the front part of the train from the back, and with the mountain background it will look awfully dangerous."
I pointed out to her that no one could possibly tell it had been taken from the back of the train. She looked at me pityingly.
"I shall write underneath it: 'Taken from the train. Engine going round a curve.'"
"You could write that under any snapshot of a train," I said. Women never think of these simple things.
"I'm glad we've come up here in daylight," cried Anne
