Abbershaw turned to Michael.
‘What’s the idea?’ he said.
Prenderby grinned.
‘He’s going to use the booze as juice,’ he said. ‘Rather an idea, don’t you think? A car like that ought to run on pure spirit, I suppose. Let’s watch him.’
He led the way to the windows and the others followed him. By craning their necks they could just see the doors of the barn, both of which stood open.
For some minutes nothing happened, and Martin Watt was just beginning to assure himself that his first impression of Kennedy’s ideas in general was going to be justified when a terrific back-fire sounded from the garage.
‘Good heavens!’ said Abbershaw. ‘He’s going to do it.’
Someone began to laugh.
‘What a pack of fools they’ll look,’ said Prenderby.
Another small explosion sounded from the garage, and the next moment the little car appeared in a cloud of blue smoke, with Mr Kennedy at the wheel. It was moving slowly but triumphantly, and emitting a stream of back-fires like a machine-gun.