"Yes, sir, both the magneto and high tension. That's all right. She's getting no gas; that's the trouble. It's the gasolene feed that's choked somewhere. I saw the fellow that filled us up this morning pour in from a red-rusty tin before I could stop him, and it'll be a flake of oxide from that jammed in the carburetter nozzle. If you could take it down for us, sir, I'm sure it would be a very great favor." "Wait a bit. Before we begin to pull the car to pieces, suppose we just make sure of one or two other things. Got a stick or anything to sound your gasolene tank with?" "Oh, that's all right. We haven't run sixty miles since I put in eight gallons." But Carter straightened out a length of copper wire, unscrewed the cap, and sounded the tank. He pulled out the wire and examined it at the lamp. He wiped it carefully and tried a second time. "Moses!" said the driver, "dry as a bone. Now, who's been playing pranks here? Must have been some of that nasty Welsh crowd that was hanging round whilst we was having lunch." "Why, there's the union underneath the tank half unscrewed. That would account for the leak, anyway. Here, hold the lamp. Not too close. Yes, and the vibration has cracked the feed pipe. There's a gap I can get my finger nail into. Now, first of all, have you got any spare gasolene?" "Yes, sir. Two tins." "Good. Then it's worth while mending this feed pipe. I suppose you haven't a soldering iron?" "Afraid not, sir. There's rubber solution----" "Which gasolene melts. Here, let's go through your stock. Ah, here's a tube of seccotine. Now I'll show you a conjuring trick. If we give the crack three coats of that, and let each dry well before the next is put on--Good Lord! Kate!" Miss O'Neill came up out of the darkness and bowed. "It's really very good of you, Mr. Carter, to trouble over my car." "I didn't know it was yours. I didn't know you were in this neighborhood. In fact I did not know where you were." Kate shrugged her shoulders. "Didn't some sapient person once record that coincidences were the commonest things in life? A minute ago I didn't know whether you were in England, or West Africa, or Grand Canary; and you didn't know or care whether I was alive or dead; and here we meet in the dark on an unnamed roadside in Wales. It's just one of those ordinary, every-day, impossible coincidences, which the vogue of motor cars is making a little more common than usual. I'm glad you're letting business differences sink for the moment." "I didn't know it was your car." "Or you'd have bitten off your hand sooner than have touched it?" He laughed rather dryly. "I'm afraid I should have yielded to the temptation of meddling. You see, internal combustion engines are rather a fad of mine." "Excellent reason. How long is this ingenious repair going to take?"