It was another glorious day. The sun shone out of a cloudless sky of clearest blue. The air had the delightful freshness of early spring. Even the Inspector, with his mind full of casks and corpses, could not remain insensible of its charm. With a half sigh he thought of that garden in the country which it was one of his dearest dreams some day to achieve. The daffodils would now be in fine show and the primroses would be on, and such a lot of fascinating work would be waiting to be done among the later plants. . . . The car drew up as he had arranged at the end of Goole Street and the Inspector proceeded on foot. After a short walk he reached his objective, an archway at the end of a block of buildings, above which was a faded signboard bearing the legend, ‘John Lyons and Son, Carriers.’ Passing under the arch and following a short lane, he emerged in a yard with an open-fronted shed along one side and a stable big enough for eight or nine horses on the other. Four or five carts of different kinds were ranged under the shed roof. In the middle of the open space, with a horse yoked in, was a dray with brown sides, and Burnley, walking close to it, saw that under the paint the faint outline of white letters could be traced. A youngish man stood by the stable door and watched Burnley curiously, but without speaking. ‘Boss about?’ shouted Burnley. The youngish man pointed to the entrance. ‘In the office,’ he replied. The Inspector turned and entered a small wooden building immediately inside the gate. A stout, elderly man with a gray beard, who was posting entries in a ledger, got up and came forward as he did so. ‘Morning,’ said Burnley, ‘have you a dray for hire?’ ‘Why, yes,’ answered the stout man. ‘When do you want it and for how long?’ ‘It’s this way,’ returned Burnley. ‘I’m a painter, and I have always stuff to get to and from jobs. My own dray has broken down and I want one while it’s being repaired. I’ve asked a friend for the loan of his, but he may not be able to supply. It will take about four days to put it right.’ ‘Then you wouldn’t want a horse and man?’ ‘No, I should use my own.’ ‘In that case, sir, I couldn’t agree, I fear. I never let my vehicles out without a man in charge.’ ‘You’re right in that, of course, but I don’t want the man. I’ll tell you. If you let me have it I’ll make you a deposit of its full value. That will guarantee its safe return.’ The stout man rubbed his cheek. ‘I might do that,’ he said. ‘I’ve never done anything like it before, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t.’ ‘Let’s have a look at it, anyway,’ said Burnley. They went into the yard and approached the dray, Burnley going through the form of examining it thoroughly. ‘I have a lot of small kegs to handle,’ he said, ‘as well as drums of paint. I should like to have that barrel loader fixed till I see if it’s narrow enough to carry them.’ The stout man unhooked the loader and fixed it in position.