It was so dark down there between the hedgerows that the driver’s features, shadowed both by the roof of his car and the brim of his hat, were scarcely discernible. He seemed about to open the door when Watchman, bareheaded, came up to him. Evidently he changed his mind. He leant farther back in his seat. His fingers pulled at the brim of his hat.

‘Look here,’ Watchman began, ‘you’re a hell of a fellow, aren’t you, bucketing about the countryside like a blasted tank! Why the devil can’t you sound your horn? You came out of that lane about twenty times as fast as—What?’

The man had mumbled something.

‘What?’ Watchman repeated.

‘I’m extremely sorry. Didn’t hear you until—’ The voice faded away.

‘All right. Well, we’d better do something about it. I don’t imagine much damage has been done.’ The man made no move and Watchman’s irritation revived. ‘Give me a hand, will you?’

‘Yes, certainly. Of course.’ The voice was unexpectedly courteous. ‘I’m very sorry. Really, very sorry. It was all my fault.’

This display of contrition mollified Watchman.

‘Oh well,’ he said, ‘no harm done, I dare say. Come on.’

The man got out on the far side and walked round to the back of his car. When Watchman joined him he was stooping over the locked bumpers.

‘I can heave mine up if you don’t mind backing an inch or two,’ said the man. With large calloused hands he gripped the bumpers of his own car.

‘All right,’ agreed Watchman.

They released the bumpers without much trouble. Watchman called through his driving-window: ‘All clear!’ The man lowered his car and then groped uncertainly in his pockets.

‘Cigarette?’ suggested Watchman and held out his case.

‘Very kind,’ said the man. ‘Coals of fire—’ He hesitated and then took a cigarette.

‘Light?’

‘I’ve got one, thanks.’

He turned aside and cupped his hands round the match, dipping his head with extravagant care as if a wind threatened the flame.

‘I suppose you’re going to Ottercombe?’ said Watchman.

He saw a flash of teeth.

‘Looks like it, doesn’t it? I’m sorry I can’t let you through till then.’

‘I shan’t be on your heels at the pace you travel,’ grinned Watchman.

‘No,’ agreed the man, and his voice sounded remote as he moved away. ‘I’ll keep out of your way. Good-night.’

‘Good-night.’

That ridiculous little car was as good as its driver’s word. It shot away down the lane and vanished over the brow of a steep drop. Watchman followed more cautiously and by the time he rounded the hill the other car had turned a farther corner. He caught the distant toot of a horn. It sounded derisive.

II