He slipped back into the yard just in time and was standing by the car, ruefully regarding his coat when the doctor’s man returned. “If you’ll let me have the coat, sir, I’ll have it off in a moment,” he said, as he unscrewed the can of petrol. While he was at work on the stain Fayre examined the car. “Find her satisfactory?” he asked casually. “I’m thinking of getting a small car myself and I can’t make up my mind about the make.” The man grunted. “Been givin’ a lot of trouble lately,” he said. “Wants a thorough overhaul, but the doctor can’t spare her.” “Always chooses the worst night to baulk on, I expect, if I know anything of cars.” “That’s right. With the wind blowin’ fit to knock you down and bitin’ cold, she’ll lay down on you proper.” “There was a night like that just after I got down to these parts,” said Fayre reminiscently. “There were a lot of trees down, I was told.” “Night of the murder up to Mr. Leslie’s farm. Awful night, that were. I was two hours workin’ on this blessed car and then the doctor had to hire. I think you’ll find that all right, sir.” Fayre thanked him and slipped a generous tip into his hand; then, getting into his coat, he made his way round to the front door. The doctor was in, but was busy in the surgery. Fayre was shown into the study, an untidy, comfortable-looking room on the ground floor. He took a quick inventory of the contents. A big desk piled with papers stood in the window. The fireplace was flanked by a couple of shabby, roomy armchairs. Fayre sat down in one of them and warmed his hands at the fire. As he did so, his eye fell on the mantelpiece and in a second he was on his feet again, examining a small framed photograph that stood there. He turned at the sound of the opening door to meet the steady gaze of Gregg. “I haven’t come to waste your time,” he explained as he shook hands. “I know this is your busy time. I only wanted to explain that I’ve made free with your petrol and the kind offices of your man in the most shameless way. I got some paint on my coat, leaning over a gate, and, as I was passing your house, I ventured to ask for some petrol to repair the damage.” “Very glad you did. I hope you got the stuff off,” answered Gregg cordially. “Smoke?” He handed a box of cigarettes to Fayre, who thanked him and took one. “Sorry I can’t be more hospitable,” went on the doctor. “But I’ve got a pack of people waiting in the surgery and I sha’n’t get rid of them for another hour, at least.” Fayre reached for a spill from a vase on the mantelpiece. As he did so his eye lighted on the photograph. “That’s an interesting head,” he remarked. “He was an interesting chap. He’d have gone a long way if he’d been allowed. One of the best fellows I ever knew.” “He looks it,” said Fayre quietly, but with such obvious sincerity that Gregg was moved to enlarge on the subject.