“This is a first-rate car,” Mr. Makepeace declared, firmly. “One that I can stand over. But I’m afraid she’s not very clean. I was going to have her revarnished and the bright parts plated. She’ll be as good as new then. You can see her in the back house.”
He led the way to a workshop containing a variety of cars undergoing repairs. Just inside the door was a small dark-blue four-seater touring car, looking a trifle the worse for wear. To this he pointed.
“A first-rate car,” he repeated, “and in good order, too, though wanting a bit of a clean-up. As you can see, she’s a fifteen-twenty Mercury, two years old, but the engine’s as good as the day it was made. Have a look over her.”
French knew something of cars, though he was no expert. But by saying little and looking wise he impressed the other with his knowledge. Finally he admitted that everything seemed satisfactory, though he would require an expert’s opinion before coming to a decision.
“Could I have a run in it?” he asked. “I should, of course, pay for its hire. I want to go over to Tavistock, and if you could let me have the car it would suit. Mr. Daw says he will take half a day’s leave and drive me.”
Mr. Makepeace agreed with alacrity, and when he understood that his prospective customer was ready to start then and there, he put his entire staff on to “take the rough off her.” French stood watching the operation while he chatted pleasantly with the proprietor. Having duly admired the vehicle, he went on in a more serious voice:
“There’s just one thing that puts me against taking her, and that’s something that Mr. Daw told me in the course of conversation. He said that on that night when Mr. Berlyn met his death the car broke down, in fact that it was that breakdown which led indirectly to the accident. Well, I don’t want a car that breaks down. If she’s not reliable, she’s no good to me.”
Mr. Makepeace looked pained and flashed a rather indignant glance at the sergeant.
“She did break down that night,” he admitted, reluctantly, “but there’s no machinery on earth that won’t sometimes go wrong. She failed from a most uncommon cause, and she might run for twenty years without the same thing happening to her again.”
“I’m not doubting your word, Mr. Makepeace, but I shall want that clearly demonstrated before I think of her. What was it that went wrong?”