Dikon was dispatched with orders to find Simon and send him to his father in ten minutes’ time. He had Simon rather heavily on his conscience. Thinking longingly of his bed he went once more to the cabin. The sky was overcast and a light drizzle was falling. Dikon was assailed by a feeling of profound depression. He found Simon still up and still closeted with Smith, in whom the effect of alcohol had faded to a condition of stale despair.

‘My luck all over,’ Smith said lugubriously as soon as he saw Dikon. ‘I land a permanent job with good money and the boss fades out on me. Is it tough or is it tough?’

‘You’ll be OK, Bert,’ said Simon. ‘Dad’ll keep you on. I told you.’

‘Yeah, but what a prospect. I’m not saying anything against your dad, Sim, but he’s on to a good thing with me and he knows it. If I liked to squeal on him your dad’d be compelled by law to give me hotel wages. I’m not complaining, mind, but that’s the strength of it. I’d have done good with Questing.’

Dikon said: ‘I find it difficult to reconcile your disappointment with your former statement that Questing tried to run a train over you.’

Smith stared owlishly at him. ‘He satisfied me about that,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t like he said at the time. The signal was working OK but his car’s got one of them green talc sun screens. He was looking through it and never noticed the light turn red. He took me along and showed me. I went crook at the time. Him and me hadn’t hit it off too well and I taped it out he’d tried to fix me up for keeps but I had to hand it to him when he showed me. He was upset, you know. But I said I’d overlook it.’

‘With certain stipulations, I fancy,’ said Dikon drily.

‘Why not!’ cried Smith indignantly. ‘He owed it to me, didn’t he? I was suffering from shock and abrasions. You ask the Doc. My behind’s like one of them monkeys’, yet. I’d got a lot to complain about, hadn’t I, Sim?’ he added with an air of injury.

‘I’ll say.’

‘Yeh, and what’s Mr Bell’s great idea talking as if it was me that acted crook?’

‘Not a bit of it, Mr Smith,’ said Dikon soothingly. ‘I only admire your talents as an opportunist.’

‘Call a bloke names,’ said Smith darkly, ‘and never offer him a drink even though he is supposed to be a blasted guest.’ He brooded, Dikon understood, on Gaunt’s bottle of whisky.

‘All the same, Bert,’ said Simon abruptly, ‘I reckon you were pretty simple to believe Questing. He was only trying to keep you quiet. You wouldn’t have seen your good money, don’t you worry.’