The men in the cellar heard the main garage door creak open and then close. After that there was a large silence, broken at last by Ferret Eyes. Exactly what he said is immaterial. Ninety percent of it would have burned holes through any printed page, and the subject matter in between the frankly irrelevant patches cast grievous aspersions on Simon Templar's parentage, his physical characteristics and his purely personal habits. The air of the cellar was rapidly turning a deep blue when the chinless man cut in.
"It's no good cursing the Saint," he said sharply. "The mistake was yours, Welmont, and you know it. Why don't you try cursing yourself?"
"What's Z going to say?" asked Welmont, a frightened note coming into his voice. "It wasn't my fault, Raddon. Damn it, you can't blame me. From the other side of the road the girl looked exactly like Beatrice Avery. How the hell was I to know? She came out of Parkside Court—"
"Save it until later." Raddon cut him off impatiently. "The first thing we've got to do is to get out of here. See what you can do with the door, Tyler. You know more about this damn place than I do."
The taxi driver mounted the stairs and heaved against the door. It creaked and groaned but gave no sign of opening.
"It's jammed," he reported unnecessarily. "The lock's no good, and there ain't any bolts. That ruddy perisher must have done somethink." He swore comprehensively. "Now we're in a ruddy mess, ain't we? I told yer not to bring that ruddy jane to my garridge."
It was not the best of all places for applying force. The stairs were narrow and steep and slippery, and there was no possible way of exerting leverage or even making a shoulder charge. It was equally impossible for two men to stand side by side. Raddon himself went up and examined the door, holding the torch to the cracks so that the beam of light passed through.
"There's only one way to get out," he said. "If we cut away the lower part of the door we can use a plank to shift the props. There are two or three planks lying in the cellar against the wall. You'd better start, Tyler."
The taxi driver cursed and grumbled but set to work. The door was old and misshapen, but it was tough. Tyler and Welmont, working in turn while Raddon held the light, took the better part of half an hour to break through. They had only penknives for tools, and they had to split and chip away the wood in fragments. Finally Tyler forced one of his heavy boots through the opening with a vicious kick. A plank was then thrust through and the props dislodged.
"'S'pose 'e sends the rozzers?" asked the driver anxiously. "I'll lose my licence, that's wot I'll do. I was a ruddy fool to let you use my garridge."