"What we are going to do now," said Charles, "is to carry on some investigations on our own."
"Then we'd better drift along to the Bell," said Peter. "We may as well put in some fishing till opening time, though. If you want to pump old Wilkes you won't find him up yet."
Charles consulted his watch. "I make it half-past ten."
"I daresay you do, but friend Wilkes takes life easy. He's never visible at this hour. Not one of our early risers.
"All right then," Charles said. "We might fish the near stream for a bit."
Sport, however, proved poor that morning, and shortly before twelve they decided to give up, and stroll on towards the inn. They were already within a few minutes' walk of it, and they arrived before the bar was open.
"Have you been into the courtyard yet?" Peter asked. "You ought to see that. Real Elizabethan work; you can almost imagine miracles and moralities being played there. Come on." He led the way through an arch in the middle of the building, and they found themselves in a cobbled yard, enclosed by the house. A balcony ran all round the first storey, and various bedroom windows opened on to this. A modern garage occupied the end of the building opposite the archway into the street, but Mr. Wilkes had had this built in keeping with the rest of the inn, and had placed his petrol pump as inconspicuously as possible. Some clipped yews in wooden tubs stood in the yard, and the whole effect was most picturesque. Having inspected the older part of the house, and ascertained that the original structure did indeed date from the fourteenth century, they wandered into the garage, which they found stood where the old stables had once been. Michael Strange's two-seater was standing just inside the entrance and one of the garage hands was washing it down. Charles, under pretext of examining the car, soon fell into easy conversation with the man, and leaving him to extract what information he could, Peter strolled off to where he could hear the throb of an engine at work. He had some knowledge of such machines, and a great deal of interest. He easily located the engine-room, went in, leaving the door open behind him, and found, as he had thought, that the engine drove the electric light plant. No one was there, and the first thing that struck him was the size of the plant. Puzzled, he stood looking at it, wondering why such a powerful machine and such a large plant had been installed for the mere purpose of supplying light for the inn. He was just about to inspect it more closely when someone came hurriedly into the room behind him.
"Oo's in 'ere?" demanded a sharp voice.
Peter turned to find Spindle, the barman, at his elbow. The man looked annoyed, but when he saw whom he was addressing he curbed his testiness, and said more mildly: "Beg pardon, sir, but no one's allowed inside this 'ere engine-room."
"That's all right," said Peter. "I shan't meddle with it. I was just wondering why…'