"Well, you don’t suppose Noakes would tip Haylock; that’s for you to do. What I meant was that Haylock has given Noakes a tip how to get into the house without breaking the law, and you may bet your boots we shall have Smail up again to-night. You know that narrow lane leading up to Trenchard’s coal-shed? It’s hardly ever used. Any one might come up there at night, and get in by the window of the shed. There’s a door between the shed and the scullery, never locked, and Smail can easily get into the house that way." "You don’t mean to say that Haylock put ’em up to that?" "Of course not; but he told Noakes that if he can manage to get into the house secretly when the inmates are off their guard they can’t legally turn him out. Whether he’s right or wrong I don’t know, but you may be sure it was enough for Noakes." "Haylock ought to have warned Mrs. Trenchard." "But Noakes wasn’t such a fool as to say what house he wanted to get into. He asked a general question, just as I did. Well, on the way up I had a ripping idea. Your tar entanglement—just the very thing." "What do you mean?" "Why, if it’s good enough to stump the Huns in Flanders it’s good enough to spoil old Noakes’s game. Noakes is sure to think of the lane. We’ll cover the ground with a layer of good runny tar some inches deep and a few feet square, and stretch a few wires across, and Messrs. Noakes and Smail will find themselves properly held up. I know the very place—just where the lane runs under the wall of the barn on one side and a prickly hedge on the other. They couldn’t go round. Imagine old Noakes stuck fast in the tar, like a fly in treacle." "Where’s the tar to come from?" "There’s a barrel in the outhouse; Trenchard uses it, no doubt, for tarring his fences. We could melt that down, and it would keep sticky a long time this hot weather." "But I don’t see why we need take all that trouble. All we’ve got to do is to lock the door between the scullery and the coal-shed." "Hang it all, where’s your enterprise? Don’t you see, you owl, we’d kill two birds with one stone? We’d teach old Noakes a lesson and test your idea at the same time. Imagine Noakes is a prowling Hun, coming at dead of night to surprise our unsuspecting Tommies, stealing along, all quiet—and slap he goes into the tar. Come, man, it’s splendid."