“Why, of course not. Let us have a look at the car at any rate,” said Martin, handing him the notes.
The man was still doubtful, but the money had a warming and soothing effect upon his temper.
“Are you all coming in?” he said at last. “Because if so you’d better hurry up. The owners may be back any time now.”
This was a step forward at any rate. Abbershaw and Prenderby climbed out of the Riley and followed Martin with the visibly softening proprietor into the garage.
The man switched on the light and the three surveyed the miscellaneous collection of cars with interest.
“There she is,” said Prenderby, his voice betraying his excitement. “Over in that corner there. Now, I ask you, could you miss her anywhere?”
The others followed the direction of his eyes and an exclamation broke from Martin.
“She certainly has it,” he said. “Once seen never forgotten.” He turned to the garage proprietor. “Have you looked at her, Mr.—er—er—?” he hesitated, at a loss for the name.
“ ’Aywhistle,” said the man stolidly, “and I ain’t. I don’t know anything about ’er nor don’t want to. Now, ’ave you seen enough to keep you ’appy?”
Martin looked at him curiously.
“Look here, Captain,” he said. “You come over here. I want to show you something if you haven’t seen it already.”
He moved over to the old car as he spoke, Mr. Haywhistle following him unwillingly. Martin pulled up the bonnet and pointed to the engine.
“Ever seen anything like that before?” he said.
Mr. Haywhistle looked at the machinery casually and without interest at first. But gradually his expression changed and he dropped upon his knees and peered underneath the car to get a glimpse of the chassis. A moment or two later he lifted a red face towards them which wore an expression almost comic in its surprise.
“Gawd lumme!” he said. “A bloomin’ Rolls.”
Martin nodded and an explanation of these “Young Nob’s” interest in the affair presented itself to the garage owner:
“Pinched it, did he?” he said. “Oh! I see now. But I pray and arsk you, sir, don’t ’ave any rowin’ in ’ere. I’ve ’ad a bit of trouble that way already—see?” He looked at them appealingly.
Martin turned to the others.
“I don’t think we need do anything in here, do you?” he said. “If Mr. Haywhistle will let us wait in his yard at the side, with the gates open, as soon as Whitby comes out we can follow him. How’s that?”
“That suits me fine,” said Mr. Haywhistle, looking at them anxiously. “Now I’ll tell you what,” he went on, clearly eager to do all that he could to assist them now that he was not so sure of himself. “This is wot ’e says to me. Early this morning, about eight o’clock, ’e comes in ’ere with the car. My boy put ’er in for ’im, so I didn’t ’ear the engine running. I came in just as ’e was leaving instructions. As far as I could gather he intended to meet a friend ’ere late tonight and they was going off together in the car as soon as this friend turned up. Well, about eight o’clock tonight, this gentleman ’ere,”—he indicated Prenderby—“ ’e calls in and spots the car and mentioned buying it. Of course I see where ’is artfulness comes in now,” he added, beaming at them affably. “ ’Owever, I didn’t notice anything fishy at the time so when the owner of the car comes in about ’alf an hour ago I tells him that there was a gentleman interested in the old bus. Whereupon ’e went in the air—a fair treat. ‘Tell me,’ says ’e, ‘was ’e anything like this?’ Thereupon ’e gives a description of a little red-’eaded cove, which I see now is this gentleman ’ere.”
He nodded at Abbershaw. “Perhaps it’s your car, sir?” he suggested.
Abbershaw smiled non-committally, and Mr. Haywhistle went on.
“Well, what eventually transpired,” he said ponderously, “was this. I was not to show ’is property to anybody, and a very nasty way ’e said it too. ’E said ’e was coming back this side of twelve and if ’is friend turned up before him I was to ask ’im to wait.”
Abbershaw looked at his watch.
“We’d better get into the yard straight away,” he said.
Mr. Haywhistle glanced up at a big clock on the bare whitewashed wall.
“Lumme, yes,” he said. “ ’Alf a minute, I’ll come and ’elp you.”
With his assistance they backed the Riley into the dark yard by the side of The Ritz and put out their lights.
“You get into ’er and sit waiting. Then as soon as they come out on the road you can nip after them—see?” he said.
Since there was nothing better to do they took his advice and the three sat silent in the car, waiting.
Martin was grinning to himself. The promise of adventure had chased the lazy expression out of his eyes and he appeared alert and interested. Prenderby leant on the steering wheel, his thin pale face utterly expressionless.
Abbershaw alone looked a little perturbed. He had some doubts as to the Riley’s capabilities as far as chasing the disguised Rolls were concerned. He was also a little afraid of Martin’s gun. He realized that they were on a lawless errand since they were acting entirely without proof, and any casualties that might occur would be difficult to explain afterwards even to so obliging a person as Inspector Deadwood.
He was disturbed in his reflections by Martin’s elbow gently prodded into his ribs. He looked up to see a
