“What is it? The arm?”
“No; but my hat and hair.”
He laughed.
“How much more serious. And what admirable distress. I think I can help. Take this.”
He brought out a pocket electric lamp.
“I always carry this at night. It is most useful in a garden. There is an old Venetian mirror hanging at the top of the stairs. While you are at work I will clear away all this stuff.”
“What will you do with it?”
“Pitch the shavings into the coal cellar. The petrol we can use—quite ironically—in an hour’s time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have been thinking. Go in and look into that Venetian mirror!”