‘You did, did you?’ The words were delivered with a burst of Homeric geniality that would have deceived nobody. ‘But, it’s not for sale, see! You’d better back your car out, there’s no room to turn here.’
Prenderby was frankly puzzled; clearly this was the last reception he had expected.
‘He’s been told to hold his tongue,’ whispered Martin, and then, turning to the garage man, he smiled disarmingly. ‘You’ve no idea what a disappointment this is to me,’ he said. ‘I collect relics of this sort and by my friend’s description the specimen you have here seems to be very nearly perfect. Let me have a look at it at any rate.’
He slipped hastily out of the car as he spoke and made a move in the direction of the darkened garage door.
‘Oh no, you don’t!’ The words were attended by the suspicious and unfriendly gentleman in the overalls and at the same moment Martin found himself confronted with the whole six-foot-three of indignant aggressiveness, while the voice, dropping a few tones, continued softly, ‘There’s a lot of people round here what are friends of mine. Very particular friends. I’d ’op it if I was you.’
Martin stared at him with apparent bewilderment.
‘My dear man, what’s the matter?’ he said. ‘Surely you’re not the type of fellow to be unreasonable when someone asks you to show him a car. There’s no reason why I should be wasting your time even.’
He chinked some money in his pocket suggestively. The face beneath the trilby remained cold and unfriendly.
‘Now look ’ere,’ he said, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets through the slits in his overalls, ‘I’m telling you, and you can take it from me or not as you please. But if you do take it, and I ’ope for your sake you do, you’ll go right away from this place. I’ve got my reasons for telling you – see?’
Martin still seemed bewildered.