“To guard against the bites of sharks, of course,” she declared. “Don’t you remember the White Knight had them for his horse?”
Cheyne was so serious and eager that he felt somewhat dashed, but he joined in the laugh, and when they had had tea they settled down to talk over their arrangements. Then it seemed that she really had a plan, and when Cheyne heard it he became immediately enthusiastic. Like all good plans it was simple, and soon they had the details cut and dry.
“Let’s try tonight,” Cheyne cried in excitement.
“Yes, I think we should. If these people have some scheme on hand every day’s delay is in their favor and against you.”
“Against us, Joan, not against me,” he cried, then realizing what he had said, he looked at her anxiously. “I may call you Joan, mayn’t I?” he pleaded. “You see, we’re partners now.”
She didn’t mind, it appeared, what he called her. Any old name would do. And she didn’t mind calling him Maxwell either. She hadn’t noticed that Maxwell was so frightfully long and clumsy, but she supposed Max was shorter. So that was that. They returned to the Plan. Though they continued discussing it for nearly an hour neither was able to improve on it, except that they decided that the first thing to be done if they got hold of the tracing was to copy their adversaries and photograph it.
“Drat this daylight saving,” Cheyne grumbled. “If it wasn’t for that we could start a whole hour earlier. As it is there is no use going out there before nine.” He paused and then went on: “Queer thing that these two houses should be so much alike—this Earlswood and the one in Hopefield Avenue. Both at cross roads, both with lanes behind them, and both surrounded by gardens and hedges and shrubs.”
“Very queer,” Joan admitted, “especially as there probably aren’t more than a hundred thousand houses of that type in London. But it’s all to the good. You’ll feel at home when you get in.”
They sparred pleasantly for some time, then after a leisurely dinner they tubed to Baker Street and took the train to Wembley Park. It was darker than on the previous evening, for the sky was thickly overcast. There had been some rain during the day, but this had now ceased, though the wind had turned east and it had become cold and raw.
Turning into Dalton Road, they reached the cross-lane at Earlswood, passed through the gap in the hedge and took up their old position among the shrubs. They had seen no one and they believed they were unobserved. From where they crouched they could see that Earlswood was again in darkness, and presently Cheyne slipped away to explore.