“You admit it was awkward, if not impossible, for Blake to make a copy,” Meredith remarked. “Since you see all it implies, your frankness carries weight; and we want to be fair. Do you urge nothing for yourself?”
“There’s nothing for me to urge, sir. I have stated I didn’t cheat you. That’s all.”
Colvin frowned. “Very well, we must weigh the evidence we have got, but you have not helped us much.” He looked at Meredith, and resumed: “When we see the line we ought to take we will let you know.”
Kit went out, and when he went through the office, looked straight in front and said nothing to the clerks. In the yard hammers beat and the riveters’ forges glimmered among the ships. Kit was keen about shipbuilding and had been happy at the yard; and he stopped for a moment in front of the wicket in the big doors. He had known ambition and had thought to make his mark, but he felt when the wicket shut it would shut him out for good. Mechanically he turned the handle and was in the street behind the high wall.
His train did not start for some time, and he went to Blake’s flat. Mrs. Blake was at home; he knew she expected him, and he sat down on a little shabby couch. Now the strain was gone he was dull and slack. Mrs. Blake leaned against the table and he thought she trembled.
“Well?” she said.
Kit smiled. “All’s straight and my news is good. Colvin and Meredith are satisfied Tom didn’t copy the drawings.”
“You satisfied them?” said Mrs. Blake in a hoarse voice. “Oh, Kit!”
“I wasn’t forced to use much argument. The job was mine, and Tom had nothing to do with the boiler.”
“But you didn’t admit you sold the plans?”