"No, but half an hour after you left, Wilkins came back with a can of petrol, and offered it to me for my experiments in a way that was positively fawning." "To make amends for his roughness before." "I don’t like that sort of thing. It’s too much Noakes’s way, and what you say throws light on it. If he and Noakes are pals—well, when I wangle, even if it’s petrol, I like to do it in decent company. I disliked Wilkins’s manner so much that I declined the petrol: told him I’d wait for the regular supply. The odd thing is that Noakes has not been here at the shop in my time." "Rather lucky for you, for if he’d found you here, he would have told Wilkins you’re a dangerous character, and got you fired out. He may do that yet." "Well, let’s get along home. Mrs. Pouncey will have high tea ready, and I’m ravenous." After their meal, which was tea and supper combined, they smoked for an hour in the sitting-room. Then Templeton jumped up. "Botheration!" he exclaimed. "I was going to work on my turbine specification, but I’ve left it in a drawer at the shop. I shall have to pull on my boots again and fetch it." "Can’t it wait? It’s a horrid night." "I really can’t waste a whole evening. My time’s getting short, and I’ve lots still to do." "Well, I’ll come along with you. After supper walk a mile, you know. It’s about a mile there and back, I suppose." The night was damp and murky. The country lane was unlit, and they found their way by intermittent flashes of Templeton’s electric torch. There was no dwelling between Mrs. Pouncey’s cottage and the garage, and at this hour, half-past eight on a winter night, they were not likely to meet either pedestrians or vehicles. So much the greater, therefore, was Templeton’s surprise, when, on approaching the spot where the garage and workshop stood, he saw a dim light through the window of the latter. "Wilkins went off at half-past three, and said he wouldn’t be back to-night," said Templeton. "I suppose he changed his mind." To reach the door they had to pass the window. It was only natural that Eves, who was on the inside, should glance in. Catching Templeton by the arm, he drew him back out of the rays of the lamp-light, whispering: "There’s some one stooping at a drawer, trying a key, apparently. Couldn’t see his face, the light’s too dim." "It’s Wilkins, I expect. No one else has any right here," replied Templeton. "I’ll take a look." Peeping round the frame of the window, through the dirty pane, he was able to distinguish nothing but a man’s form at the further end of the shop. The lamp, hanging from the middle of the roof, was turned very low, and the bent attitude of the man, with his back three-parts towards the window, rendered it impossible to discern his features. He was covered with a long waterproof, and a storm cap was pulled low over his head. From his movements it was clear that he was trying one key after another.