“She’ll be ready inside ten minutes if that will do?”
“That’ll do,” said Jones, “and here’s the money.” He produced the chamois leather bag, paid the five sovereigns, and received five and sixpence change—and also a receipt which he put in his pocket. Then Jim appeared, an inconspicuous looking man, wriggling into a driving coat that had seen better days, the Ford was taken from its den, the tyres examined, and the petrol tank filled.
“Haven’t you an overcoat?” asked the proprietor. “It’ll be chilly after sundown.”
“No,” said Jones. “I came down without one, the weather was so fine—It won’t hurt.”
“Better have a coat,” said the proprietor. “I’ll lend you one. Jim will fetch it back.” He went off, and returned with a heavy coat on his arm.
“That’s good of you,” said Jones. “Thanks—I’ll put it on now to save trouble.” Then a bright idea struck him. “What I’m afraid of most is my eyes, the wind tries them. Have you any goggles?”
“I believe there’s an old pair in the office,” said the proprietor, “hold on a minute.” He went off and returned with the goggles. Jones thanked him, put them on, and got into the car.
“Pleasant journey to you,” said the proprietor.
Then they started.
They turned up the street and along the road by which Jones had come. Then they struck into the road where the “Lucknows” and “Cawnpores” hinted of old Indian Colonels.