“How far is it to Newcastle from here, Jacky?”

Jacky Dalton, a fair-haired young giant, one of the keenest sportsmen whom I had ever met, and whose mind and soul was now entirely dominated by the craze for motoring, told me with only a few moments’ hesitation.

“Between two hundred and two hundred and twenty miles, Austen,” he said, “and a magnificent road.  With my new Napier, I reckon that I could get there in six hours, or less at night, with this moon.”

I walked to the window.  Across the park the outline of the trees and even the bracken stood out with extraordinary distinctness in the brilliant moonlight.  There was not a breath of air, although every window in the house was open.  We were having a few days of record heat.

“Jove, what a gorgeous run it would be to-night!” Dalton said, with a little sigh, looking out over my shoulder.  “Empty roads, as light as day, and a breeze like midsummer!  You don’t want to go, do you, Austen?”

“Will you take me?” I asked.

“Like a shot!” he answered.  “I only wish you were in earnest!”

“But I am,” I declared.  “If you don’t mind missing the day’s shooting to-morrow I’d love to run up there.  It’s impossible to sleep with this heat.”

“It’s a great idea,” Dalton declared enthusiastically.  “I’d love a day off from shooting.”

I turned to a younger cousin of mine, who had just come in from the billiard-room.

“Dick,” I said, “will you run things to-morrow if I go off motoring with Dalton?”

“Of course I will,” he answered.  “It’s only home shooting, anyway.  I’d rather like a day off because of the cricket match in the afternoon.”

“Jacky, I’m your man!” I declared.

“We’ll have Ferris in at once,” he declared.  “Bet you what you like he’s ready to start in a quarter of an hour.  I always have her kept ready tuned right up.”

I rang the bell and sent for Jacky’s chauffeur.  He appeared after a few minutes’ delay,—­a short, hard-faced young man, who before Jacky had engaged him had driven a racing car.

“Ferris,” his master said, “we want to start for Newcastle in half an hour.”

“To-night, sir?” the man asked.

“Certainly,” Dalton answered.  “I shall drive some of the way myself.  Everything is in order, I suppose?”

“Everything, sir,” the man answered.  “You can start in ten minutes if you wish.”

“Any trouble about petrol?” I asked.

“We carry enough for the whole journey, sir,” the man answered.  “I’ll have the car round at the front, sir, in a few minutes.”

“Let’s go up and change our clothes,” Dalton said.  “Remember we are going to travel, Austen, especially up the north road.  You will want some thickish tweeds and an overcoat, although it seems so stifling here.”

I nodded.

“Right, Jacky!” I answered.  “I’ll be down in a quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes at the most.”