Mr. Davis wiped his hands upon a piece of cotton waste and glanced appreciatively at Nancy. "Very good, sir," he replied; "but, if you'll excuse my saying so, I shouldn't drive too fast--not if you've got a lady with you. The steering gear's none too sound." Colin laughed. "You needn't pay any attention to Davis," he observed to Nancy. "Like all people who have to give credit, he's a hopeless pessimist." He opened the door for her, and, climbing up alongside into the driving seat, switched on the spark and the lamps. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, as though to disclaim further responsibility, Mr. Davis bent down over the starting-handle. After several ineffectual jerks the engine suddenly began running, and the next moment Colin was backing his way out through the open doorway. Sitting beside him, with her chin buried comfortably inside her collar, Nancy made no attempt at conversation. From the hint dropped by Mr. Davis she concluded that Colin was the sort of driver whom it was safer not to disturb with unnecessary chatter, an opinion which had been fully confirmed some time before they arrived at Sloane Square. He drove, indeed, at a pace which would have proved highly distressing to any one of a timid disposition. Fortunately for Nancy, however, her nerves were in excellent order, and after the first half mile had been safely negotiated she began to find that the sensation of missing buses by a quarter of an inch was not without a peculiar and exhilarating charm. Apart from that, the actual journey through what to her was a totally unknown quarter of London was in itself a sufficiently stimulating experience. The crowds in the City, the flaring coster barrows in St. George's Road, and the gradually increasing squalor and gloom as they drew nearer to their destination, all provided her with an unfailing source of interest. A little way down Shadwell High Street, at the corner of a side lane, Colin came to a halt in front of an uninviting-looking public house, alongside which was a closed gate leading apparently into a yard. "This is where I generally leave the car," he announced. "Mark's place is only a few yards farther on." As he spoke the door of the pub opened, and a stout gentleman in trousers, carpet slippers, and a rather dirty shirt loomed up in the opening. "'Ullo, Mister Gray," he observed, in a kind of hoarse wheeze. "Quite a stranger, ain't yer?" He spat genially into the gutter and, stepping forward, offered his hand to Colin. "Brought a bit o' comp'ny with yer this time, I see," he added. "That's right," said Colin. "Let me introduce you to each other. Mr. Higgins--Miss Seymour." The fat man wiped his hand on the back of his trousers and transferred it to Nancy. "Pleased to meet yer, miss," he remarked. "Any friend o' Mister Gray's a friend o' mine." "Can I shove the car in your yard?" inquired Colin.