"Noakes? You remember when we caught him at the drawer? My hat! They don’t stick at trifles. This is felony, or I’m a Dutchman. Wilkins, or Noakes, or both of them, want to get in first at the Patent Office; they’ve stolen your specification." "That’s a serious charge. We’ve no proof." "My dear chap, it’s as plain as a pikestaff. But look here, what can be done? Look at the worst; say they have copied your stuff, what then?" "If they file their application at the Patent Office it will be no end of a bother and expense to prove it’s mine." "I’d swear that before any beak in the country. But let’s keep to the point. They couldn’t get to the Patent Office to-night?" "No; it closes at five; opens at ten in the morning." "What time’s the last train up?" "It left twenty minutes ago," said Templeton, after a glance at his watch. "And in the morning?" "The first train reaches London something after eleven." Eves mused for a few seconds, drumming on the table. "I tell you what," he said at length. "You set to work and make a fair copy of this stuff, and we’ll go up by the first train to-morrow and see if—Hallo! here’s a car. Rather late for a visit." The panting of an automobile engine was distinctly audible. There was a rap on the outer door. Mrs. Pouncey shuffled along the passage; voices were heard; then the landlady entered. "A gentleman to see you, sir; O’Reilly by name." "Our excitable Irishman," said Eves. "Ask him in, Mrs. Pouncey, please," said Templeton. O’Reilly came in like a tornado, waving his arms and wearing his capacious smile. "Sure, I’m delighted to see the two of you, and me not knowing the way," he said as he shook hands. "The Government, or the colonel anyway, has taken my tender for the camp waste, and ’tis to you I owe it, and I’ll beg you to drink to the colonel, or anyway the Government; I have the champagne in my pocket ready." He produced a bottle from the deep pocket of his waterproof coat. "Jolly good of you, Mr. O’Reilly," said Eves. "You’ve come in the nick of time. My friend Templeton wants something to cheer him up." "Do you say so? What might be the trouble, now?" "Expound, Bob; your invention, I mean. I should only make a mess of it." "It was just a notion for driving a car in the opposite direction to what it has been going, the driver swinging round on his seat and automatically bringing into action steering-gear affecting the back wheels instead of the front, or vice versa." "Saves turning in a narrow lane, you see," added Eves. "Bedad, that would be a blessing to me this dark night," said O’Reilly. "But what is the trouble? Funds run out? Would you show me the plans, I’d find the capital—provided they’ll work out, of course."