"Well, let's get along home. Mrs. Pouncey will have high tea ready, and I'm ravenous."
After their meal, which was tea and supper combined, they smoked for an hour in the sitting-room. Then Templeton jumped up.
"Botheration!" he exclaimed. "I was going to work on my turbine specification, but I've left it in a drawer at the shop. I shall have to pull on my boots again and fetch it."
"Can't it wait? It's a horrid night."
"I really can't waste a whole evening. My time's getting short, and I've lots still to do."
"Well, I'll come along with you. After supper walk a mile, you know. It's about a mile there and back, I suppose."
The night was damp and murky. The country lane was unlit, and they found their way by intermittent flashes of Templeton's electric torch. There was no dwelling between Mrs. Pouncey's cottage and the garage, and at this hour, half-past eight on a winter night, they were not likely to meet either pedestrians or vehicles. So much the greater, therefore, was Templeton's surprise, when, on approaching the spot where the garage and workshop stood, he saw a dim light through the window of the latter.
"Wilkins went off at half-past three, and said he wouldn't be back to-night," said Templeton. "I suppose he changed his mind."
To reach the door they had to pass the window. It was only natural that Eves, who was on the inside, should glance in. Catching Templeton by the arm, he drew him back out of the rays of the lamp-light, whispering:
"There's some one stooping at a drawer, trying a key, apparently. Couldn't see his face, the light's too dim."