“Yes, sir.”
He passed into the Central Way, which was almost deserted. The last visitor, the very last stalwart of the Y.M.C.A., had departed, and the sole signs of life in the great thoroughfare were a lamplighter extinguishing the gas-lamps which were provided in case of a sudden failure of electricity, and a road-sweeper in charge of a complicated machine with two horses. The clock in the tower of the Exposition Palace showed half an hour after closing time. The moon was peeping over the eastern roofs.
Carpentaria went to the garage, and, not without difficulty, for it was shut up, made his way into the interior and procured some light. He wished to make a thorough examination of the car which had been employed as the instrument of the plot. He had it drawn out to the centre of the garage, under the full flare of an electric chandelier. A sleepy attendant hovered in the background.
“Get a ladder and see if there’s anything on the roof of the van—any tyres or boxes or anything,” said Carpentaria.
“There’s only this, sir,” replied the attendant when he had climbed up, and he produced a cap and overcoat of the City uniform.
“Well, I’m——!” exclaimed Carpentaria, and a notion struck him.
“Doorkeeper gone to bed?” he queried.
“Yes, sir.”
“Wake him and tell him I want him.”
While waiting for the doorkeeper, Carpentaria scrutinized attentively the wheels of the vehicle; those wheels, even on his first visit, had put an idea into his head. Then the doorkeeper arrived, not quite as spruce and perfect as a doorkeeper ought to be.