Roberts laughed. "No, no, it's not as bad as that. Maybe I thought it would do no harm to let the Mansells know I'm wise to your visit. You want to watch your step, Kane."
"I don't wish to seem ungrateful, but, to tell you the truth, I've had about enough drama. Joe Mansell's been a friend of the family for half a century, and—"
"That's fine," said Roberts imperturbably. "What's the drama you speak of?"
"My stepfather calls it melodrama. I could wish you had not repeated your dark warning to my fiancйe, you know."
"Is that so? Well, I certainly am sorry if I've upset Miss Allison. I didn't mean to do that."
"The trouble is, she's got things a bit out of focus since the accident to my boat," said Jim.
Roberts looked at him. "The accident to your boat?" he repeated.
Jim gave a rueful laugh. "Oh, Timothy started a hare over that, you know, and he and Patricia have been chasing it ever since. He even told Superintendent Hannasyde about it. The genial theory is that the boat was tampered with, with the idea that I should go down with her. Nothing will get it out of their heads."
"No?" said Roberts.
Jim stopped dead in his tracks. "Look here, sir, you're not going to tell me you believe such a damned silly story?"
"Well," said Roberts, "I wouldn't go so far as to say I actually believe it, but if I were you, I wouldn't dismiss it too carelessly. I'm sorry Miss Allison got hold of the notion: I hoped she wouldn't. Guess that was a trick that can't be pulled twice, so there was no sense in alarming the ladies unnecessarily."
"Good God, sir, did it occur to you, then?"
"Sure it occurred to me," replied Roberts calmly. "But when there's no way of proving a thing, there's no sense in talking about it. What did the superintendent make of it?"
"I don't think he made anything of it. It's obvious Timothy must have hit something."
"Maybe if the superintendent occupied himself with what isn't so obvious he'd get along better," commented Roberts.
They had traversed the side street by this time and come to the entrance of Kane and Mansell's yard.
"Well, sir, I still think the whole thing's impossible," said Jim. "I've got my car parked here. Can I give you a lift anywhere?"
"That's very good of you; but I've only a step to go. You take that proposition of mine home with you and study it." He pointed to the typescript under Jim's arm. "Maybe you'll give me a ring some time, and I'll be glad to come along and discuss it with you."
"Very good of you, sir; I will," said Jim, shaking hands.
He extricated his car from the yard and drove up the side street to the main road. As he paused, awaiting his opportunity to cut across the traffic, he saw Miss Allison, waiting by a bus stop and laden with parcels. Half a minute later he drew up alongside her and said: "Taxi, miss?"
"Good Lord, where did you spring from?" said Patricia, thankfully climbing into the car. "I didn't know you were going to—" She stopped and looked accusingly at him. "You've been to the office!"
"I have."
"Jim, you idiot, do you mean to tell me you deliberately kept it dark from me? Why on earth?"
"Well, seeing as how you go into a sort of flat spin every time anyone mentions the accursed name of Mansell, I thought it might be kinder to say nothing."
"I call that absolutely insulting!" declared Miss Allison. "As though I should be afraid of your going to your own offices! If there's one place where you're bound to be safe, it's there. Look here, I do wish you wouldn't drive at a hundred miles an hour!"
"This, my girl, is a limit area, and I'm driving within the limit," said Mr. Kane.
"I'm sure you were doing at least forty. Anyway, do go slowly! I want to talk to you."
"My sweet, I'll drive you in third all the way home. There shall be nothing to alarm you."
"I'm not exactly alarmed," said Miss Allison, "because I know you're an expert; but you must admit that the way you streak along the coast road is enough to put the wind up anyone."
Mr. Kane promised humbly to mend his ways and indeed proceeded to drive Miss Allison home at a decorous speed. In fact, so decorous did it become that she broke off in the middle of a sentence to say: "Darling Jim, is there a hearse ahead?"
"There is no pleasing some people," said Mr. Kane, accelerating slightly and swinging round a big bend in the road. "First she slangs me for speeding, then—"
He stopped. The car was not responding to his hands on the wheel. He felt the front wheels floating, threw the car swiftly out of gear, and jammed on his brakes.
Miss Allison, looking inquiringly up at him, saw his face set and rather white, became aware of the car pursuing a most erratic course, gasped: "Look out! You'll have her in the ditch!" and the next instant found herself flung half out of the car into a quickthorn hedge, with her betrothed on top of her. Mr. Kane extricated himself swiftly and hauled Miss Allison up. "Sorry, darling!" he said rather breathlessly. "Hurt?"
"No, not particularly," said Miss Allison with admirable calm. "What happened?"
"The steering went," he replied. "By God's grace we were going slow. If we'd been travelling at any speed we would have been a couple of goners by this time. You've scratched your cheek, darling."
"I have also bruised my shoulder," said Miss Allison, dabbing her cheek with a handkerchief. She looked at the car, lying drunkenly against the bank, with two wheels in the ditch. "What do you suppose made the steering go?" she asked, in a painstakingly casual voice.
"No idea. I shall be able to tell when we've salvaged her," replied Jim, dusting his trousers. "Now, my love, the next move is to get you home. I'm afraid it'll have to be the bus after all."
"It'll be along in a minute or two. What are you going to do?"
"Walk back to Lamb's Garage and get hold of a breakdown gang to tow her in."
She nodded. "All right. Rescue my parcels, will you, Jim? I'll send the Daimler down for you as soon as Mrs. Kane gets back with it."
"Tell Jackson to pick me up at Lamb's," he said. "And look here, Pat! Don't say too much about this at home."
"No, I won't. I'll just say we had a breakdown." She saw the omnibus approaching and hesitated. "I—wish I hadn't got to go home, Jim."
"It's all right," he said. "Nothing's going to happen to me."
She gave his hand a squeeze, bestowed a slightly tremulous smile upon him, and climbed into the omnibus.
Mr. James Kane stood for a minute or two thoughtfully looking his car over. It was obviously impossible to discover much while she reposed drunkenly in the ditch, so after frowning at her in some perplexity he set off with his long easy stride down the road in the direction of the nearest garage.
Half an hour later the Bentley, hauled from the ditch and towed to the garage, stood jacked up in the middle of the workshop, and Jim, with the foreman and two mechanics, was inspecting the track rod, which hung loose on the right side, causing the left front wheel to float.
"You lorst the nut that holds the ball joint of the track rod, sir, that's what you done," explained the elder of the two mechanics, eager to impart information. "You look how it is on the right side, sir: that'll show you. You got this nut on the ball joint, and this split pin you see here to hold it in place. Now you can see what happens if you was to lose the split pin, and the nut come unscrewed-like."
The foreman interrupted him somewhat severely. "Mr. Kane doesn't need you to tell him that." He looked at Jim. ''Queer set-out, sir. What beats me is how it ever happened."
"Yes," said Jim.
"Been smeared all over with muck too," said the foreman, peering at the screw thread on the track rod.
"I noticed that," said Jim.
The foreman shot him a quick, arrested look, and then turned to the elder mechanic, and sent him off upon some errand. The younger mechanic, a solemn Scot of few words, looked gravely at him and waited.