Then, without arousing undue interest, I may presently escape into the storm whence I came--er--driving atrociously.'" The man stared.
"Monsieur," purred Carl audaciously, "is doubtless more interested in--let us say--camp fires for instance, than such a vulgar blaze as yonder car." "One is powerless," returned the other haughtily, "to answer riddles." Carl bowed with curiously graceful insolence.
"As if one could even hope to break such splendid nerve as that!" he murmured appreciatively.

"It is an impassiveness that comes only with training.

Monsieur," he added imperturbably, "I have had the pleasure--of seeing you before." "It is possible!" shrugged the other politely.
"Under strikingly different conditions!" pursued Carl reminiscently.
There was a disappointing lack of interest in the other's face.
"Even that is possible," assented the foreigner stiffly, "Environment is a shifting circumstance of many colors.

The honor of your acquaintance, however, I fear is not mine." Carl's eyes, dark and cold as agate, compelled attention.
"My name," said he deliberately, "is Granberry, Carl Westfall Granberry." The brief interval of silence was electric.
"It is a pity," said the other formally, "that the name is unfamiliar.
Monsieur Granberi, the storm increases.

My ill-fated car, I take it, requires no further attention." He stopped short, staring with peculiar intentness at the road beyond.