“Evidently someone has broken into the shed,” remarked Mr. Grant. “Have you been there to-day? Perhaps it would be as well if you did. I’ll come with you, if I may?”
The old man led the way up a steeply sloping garden. In a corner formed by the junction of two hedges was a tumble-down structure composed of boats’ planking, weatherboards, corrugated iron, and tarred felt. The lock was in position, but it was one of those cheap varieties which could easily be picked by means of a piece of bent wire.
Marner threw open the door. Within were a number of gardening tools, a pile of old sacks, a motor bicycle, and two tins of petrol.
“That’s where I kept un,” declared Marner. “It be gone, as ye see, zur. Nothin’ else be touched as far as I can see.”
“Evidently someone borrowed it and lost it,” said the Scoutmaster. “That’s a nice motor bike: you don’t ride it, do you, Mr. Marner?”
The old man chuckled wheezily.
“Not wi’ this leg, zur. Yes, tes my boy Richard’s; same name as mine ’e be called. ’E wur a Scout same as your lads.”
“Well, I hope Master Richard isn’t mixed up in this business,” thought the Scoutmaster; then, aloud: “He’s not a Scout now, is he?”
Marner chuckled again.
“ ’E’s mate aboard th’ tawps’l schooner Huterp o’ Fowey,” he announced proudly. “She’s gone foreign wi’ a cargo o’ clay. Where eggsackly I can’t remember like. Reckon she’s about due back come a week or so; an’ if so happen you’m still hereabouts ye might see ’im.”