“S’all right as far as it goes,” he said, “but I got three pounds worth of business in my tank.” He eyed Rollison curiously, and added: “And I can’t get more’n forty-five out of the cab, I might not be able to keep up wiv’ the car. Fair’s fair, ain’t it?”

“And you’re very fair,” said Rollison, giving him another two pounds. “If you find out where the Morris is garaged, come back and report and you can also live well to-morrow!”

“Don’t forget I ain’t making no promises,” warned the driver, “I’ll do me best.” He nodded and turned to his driving cabin, while Rollison strolled across the pavement and up the steps leading to the front door. The driver of the little car was sitting at the wheel reading a newspaper; he was nearly thirty yards away.

As Rollison put his key to the lock, the door opened and Jolly appeared.

“I’m very glad to see you, sir.” He stepped aside and then closed the door softly. Rollison stood watching him curiously. “Can we have a word together before you see Miss Barrington-Ley?” Taking assent for granted, he walked to the door of the small spare room. Rollison followed.

“We’re being very conspiratorial, aren’t we?”

“I think you will agree with the need for discretion, sir,” said Jolly, firmly closing the door. “Miss Barrington-Ley is in a state of some agitation, and although I have done my best to find out the cause for it, I have failed. However, I did manage to get some indication. I took the morning newspapers in to her, with The Record uppermost and folded so that she could not avoid seeing the photograph, and she showed some alarm.”

“Is alarm the word?”

“If you had been with me, I am sure you would have said so,” declared Jolly. “There was, also, some suggestion of distaste. I thought it wise that you should know before seeing her, sir.”

Yes,” said Rollison. “Thanks.”

“Excuse me,” said Jolly.