"Splendid!" cried Eves. "Here’s the draft specification—but there’s the rub; that smudge of ink. Look here, Bob, just set to work and copy your diagrams while I tell Mr. O’Reilly all about it, and he opens the fizz. We’ve no wine-glasses, only tumblers, but no one will mind that." O’Reilly’s face grew grave as he listened to the story told by Eves. "That’s bad," he said. "I stopped at the station a while ago to get a London evening paper, and I saw that mayor of yours, Noakes, step into the London train. There was another fellow with him, seeing him off." "What sort of man?" asked Eves. "A thick ruffian of a fellow in a long coat and a motor cap. I can’t tell you which of them I dislike the most, by the faces of ’em, I mean—him or Noakes." "That was Wilkins. There’s no doubt I was right, Bob; Noakes has slunk off to London to get in first; and that was the last train!" "Drink, my boys," said O’Reilly, who had meanwhile opened his bottle. "Health to ourselves, and confusion to Noakes. We’ll get the top-side of him yet. There’s one way to do it. ’Tis nine o’clock, and we are a hundred and sixty miles from London—that and a bit over. I’ll drive you up in my car." "Magnificent," cried Eves. "How long will your diagrams take, Bob?" "Under an hour; but there’s the specification to copy out." "I’ll do that. Hand over. We’ll be ready in an hour, Mr. O’Reilly." "Then I’ll run back to the town and fill up my tank and see to my tyres and lamps," said O’Reilly. "Be you ready when I call for you, and with luck and no punctures we’ll be in London by six o’clock." He gulped a glass of champagne and hurried from the room. The two lads went on steadily with their tasks. Templeton was finished first, and going to his desk scrawled a hasty note, which he placed in an envelope, and was addressing when Eves sprang up. "That’s done," he said, flinging down his pen. "What are you writing to Wilkins for?" "Just to tell him I shan’t be at the shop till Thursday." "I wouldn’t tell the brute anything." "Well, you see, there’s nothing proved yet, and——" "And Noakes, I suppose, has gone up to town to leave his card on the King! Bob, you’re an ass. But drink up your fizz; it’s pretty flat. I hear the car. It’ll be a pretty cold ride; rather sport, though." "I hope we shan’t have a spill. O’Reilly’s a bit wild, you know. I wish we hadn’t drunk that champagne." "Oh, you’re hopeless. Get on your coat, and don’t worry. It’ll be a splendid rag." Ten minutes sufficed for their donning their thickest outer garments and soothing the agitation into which the announcement of their journey threw Mrs. Pouncey. Then they started.