He entered the place. There were no signs of cars, nothing of a movable description in that yard, with the exception of a stout man in leggings and shirtsleeves, who, seeing the stranger, came forward to receive him. "Have you a car?" asked Jones. "They're all out except a Ford," said the stout man. "Did you want to go for a drive?" "No. I want to run up to London in a hurry--what's the mileage from here?" "We reckon it sixty three miles from here to London--that is to say the Old Kent Road." "That's near enough," said Jones. "What's the price?" "A shilling a mile to take you, and a sixpence a mile for the car coming back." "What's the total?" The proprietor figured in his head for a moment. "Four, fifteen and six," said he. "I'll take the car," said Jones, "and I'll pay you now. Can I have it at once?" The proprietor went to a door and opened it. "Jim," cried he, "are you there? Gentleman wants the Ford taken to London, get her out and get yourself ready." He turned to Jones. "She'll be ready inside ten minutes if that will do?" "That'll do," said Jones, "and here's the money." He produced the chamois leather bag, paid the five sovereigns, and received five and sixpence change--and also a receipt which he put in his pocket. Then Jim appeared, an inconspicuous looking man, wriggling into a driving coat that had seen better days, the Ford was taken from its den, the tyres examined, and the petrol tank filled. "Haven't you an overcoat?" asked the proprietor. "It'll be chilly after sundown." "No," said Jones. "I came down without one, the weather was so fine--It won't hurt." "Better have a coat," said the proprietor. "I'll lend you one. Jim will fetch it back." He went off, and returned with a heavy coat on his arm. "That's good of you," said Jones. "Thanks--I'll put it on now to save trouble." Then a bright idea struck him. "What I'm afraid of most is my eyes, the wind tries them. Have you any goggles?" "I believe there's an old pair in the office," said the proprietor, "hold on a minute." He went off and returned with the goggles. Jones thanked him, put them on, and got into the car. "Pleasant journey to you," said the proprietor. Then they started. They turned up the street and along the road by which Jones had come. Then they struck into the road where the "Lucknows" and "Cawnpores" hinted of old Indian Colonels. They passed the gates of the Hoover establishment. It was open, and an attendant was gazing up and down the street. He looked at the car but he did not recognize the occupant, then several more residential roads were left behind, a highly respectable cemetery, a tin chapel, and the car, taking a hill as Fords know how, dropped Sandbourne-on-Sea to invisibility and surrounded itself with vast stretches of green and sun warmed country, June scented, and hazy with the warmth of summer. They passed hop gardens and hamlets, broad meadows and grazing cattle, bosky woods and park lands.