FROM JACK WINSTON TO LORD LANE
Pau, December 15.
Dear Safety Valve,
After the recent budget from Biarritz I had no intention of inflicting another upon you at—least, until we should reach Nice. But—there's as much virtue in "but" as in "if"—you will be thinking in Davos that it never rains but it pours letters; I am thinking in Pau that it never rains but it pours young men—Miss Randolph's young men. We've got another one now, in his way as objectionable as the first; and though I don't regard this specimen as an active menace to the car, nor do I believe he will resort to ripping up the tyres, he has his knife into me.
Well, we arrived in Pau, which I know of old, and in which I've had some rather jolly times, as Miss Randolph would put it. Pau is the sort of place where you meet your friends, and I scented danger, but we were booked for only two days, and luck had befriended me so well thus far that I trusted it once more. I came to a hotel at some distance from the Goddess's. Between two evils I chose the less, and put my name down as "J. Winston," hoping that if anyone knew me they wouldn't know Miss
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