"A butcher's cart came along, and the butcher got down and helped me to push her out of the middle on to the side of the road. He said he didn't know of any repairing-shop or blacksmith's nearer than Southend. I asked him to lend me his horse to drag the car back to Southend, but he couldn't. He had his meat to deliver, but he said I'd be sure to find help before long, as there was a lot of traffic on the road. So off he went and left me.
"I thought of leaving the old car to look after herself, and going back to the cottage on foot; but I couldn't do that, as I'd never have been able to come back for her, and she's worth eight or nine hundred. So I just sat in her and smoked a pipe and waited.
"I tell you, I was in a stew, for I didn't know if I'd made the fishing-line too tight for Giveen's wrists, and if they swelled, mortification, or goodness knows what, might have come on; and I began to think of having to support him for life if his hands had to be cut off; and then I began to think that maybe he might die of it, and I'd be hanged for murder or gaoled for life.
"Presently a big touring car came along, with a young fellow and a chauffeur in it, and I signalled them to stop, and it pulled up, and who should it be but Billy Bones! He's Lord St. Ivel's second son, you know; they call him 'Billy Bones' because they say he never eats anything else but grilled bones at three o'clock in the morning. Last time I'd seen him was at the Rag-Tag Club, in Cork Street, at two o'clock on a Sunday morning, playing bridge with one eye shut to see the pips on the cards. Billy is one of those men who know everything, and he knows all about the inside of a motor-car—or thinks he does.
"'Hello!' said Billy, 'what's up?'
"I told him, and he hopped out of his car, and said he'd have everything right in a minute. He got out his repairing tools, whipped off his coat, and got right under the car with his tools, lying on his back in the dust of the road. He's one of those fellows who don't care what they do. I could hear him under the car, and he seemed taking the whole thing to pieces. You could hear the nuts coming out and the pipes being unscrewed and the petrol escaping. He was stuck under there for half an hour or so, and then he came out, looking like a sweep, and he said it was all right, and I only had to start her. But she wouldn't stir.
"He got under her again, and spent another half-hour tinkering at her, and then he came out and said it was all right this time, and told me to start her. I started her, but she wouldn't budge. Then Billy told his chauffeur to see what he could do, and the chauffeur didn't get under the car; he just examined the petrol supply business, and in about sixteen seconds she was all right. 'I thought I'd done it,' said Billy, putting on his coat.
"There was an hour clean gone, and, I tell you, if I came fast to Southend I flew going back. I got her under the shed and went to the cottage. As soon as I went in I saw something was wrong, for the bedroom door was open. I looked into the bedroom, and Giveen was gone."
"Bad cess to him!" said French, who had been following the raconteur with deep interest.