‘I shall be delighted,’ said Richard.
‘Do you object to fast travelling?’ asked Mr. Craig. ‘We start in a quarter of an hour, and shall reach Kilburn before nine-thirty.’
‘The faster the better,’ Richard agreed.
‘If you please, sir, something’s gone wrong with the brake of the Panhard. The thread of one of the screws is worn.’
The voice was the voice of Micky, whose head had unceremoniously inserted itself at the front-door.
A shadow crossed the fine face of Raphael Craig.
‘Something gone wrong?’ he questioned severely.
‘Sure, your honour. Perhaps the expert gentleman can mend it,’ Mike replied.
Again Richard detected a note of irony in the Irishman’s voice.
The whole party went out to inspect the Panhard. Richard, in his assumed rôle of expert, naturally took a prominent position. In handling the damaged screw he contrived to drop it accidentally down a grid in the stone floor.