And as she had anticipated she had little difficulty in interesting her father in the subject of a new chauffeur.  Mr. Strong for several days had been trying to find one without success.

“You say this man’s last place was with the British High Commission.”

“Some one of the girls was telling me,” she prevaricated.  “I asked her to tell him to come here to-night at eight.  He ought to be here any minute.”

Presently the candidate for the place was announced.

“Mr. Thomas Dean to see about a chauffeur’s position,” the maid said as she brought him in, and while her father questioned him, Jane studied him carefully.

He could not be more than thirty, she decided, and the voice in which he answered her father’s questions was surely a cultivated one.  It would not have surprised her in the least to have learned that he was a college man.  Even in his neat chauffeur’s uniform he seemed every inch a gentleman.  He had been driving a car for twelve years, he explained.  No, he did not drink and had never been arrested for speeding.

“Are you a married man?”

Jane listened curiously for his answer to this question of her father’s.  Surely it would be far more interesting if he wasn’t.  Of course, he was a chauffeur and a detective, but somehow she could not help feeling, perhaps because of his easy manner, that more than likely most of the cars he had driven were cars that he himself had owned.  K-27 she decided was going to be quite a satisfactory partner to work with.

“There’s just one thing,” said her father.  “You say you are not married.  I can’t understand why it is that you are not in the army.”

“I am not eligible,” said Thomas Dean calmly, though Jane thought she could detect a twinkle in his eye.  “One of my legs has been broken in three places.”

“But there are things a young fellow can do for his country besides marching,” insisted Mr. Strong.  “The government needs mechanics, too.”

“I know,” said Thomas Dean, almost humbly, “but I have a mother, and my father is dead.”

Jane smiled a little to herself at his answer.  She noted how carefully he had avoided saying anything about having a mother to support.  It would not have surprised her in the least to have learned that he was a millionaire, yet her father, ordinarily shrewd in judging men, apparently was satisfied.

“Supporting a mother, I suppose, comes first,” he said.  “Well, Dean, when can you come?”

“To-morrow morning if you like,” the new chauffeur answered, nodding gravely to Jane as he withdrew.