"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 d.a.m.ned 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 G.o.d, 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 hea.r.s.e 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 G.o.d'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.

"Mr. Kane, that didn't happen natural," said the foreman. "I know your car. That pin never came out on its own, nor that muck didn't get there without it was put. If you was to ask me, I should say there had been some dirty work done."

The young Scot delivered himself of an utterance.

"Ay," he said weightily.

"Looks like it," said Jim. "Can you let me have a car? I want to go back to the spot where the nut must have come off and look for it."

"That's right, sir. I'll send Andy here with you."

It was Andy who, on the bend of the coast road where the Bentley had got out of control, found the nut, rolled to the side of the road, and delivered himself of a second utterance. "That'll be it," he said, holding it in a grimy palm. He paused to recruit his forces and added: "Lebber't ower wi' muck."

He did not speak again until they reached the garage.

Then as Jim stopped the car he roused himself from deep reflection and said simply that he doubted somebody's plans had misgaed.

The foreman took the nut and said: "That's it all right. You didn't find any sign of the split pin, sir, I know."

Jim shook his head. "I didn't expect to. Look here, Mason, I'd rather you didn't talk too much about this."

"Mr. Kane, sir, I'm ready to take my oath your car's been doctored. You ought to tell the police."

"I'm going to. They'll probably come and interrogate you."

"They're welcome. I'll tell them what I know, which is that your car was in beautiful running order when I had her for overhaul two days ago. She's a lovely piece of work." He laid an affectionate hand on one crumpled wing. "She's not one of these cheap tin kettles on wheels anything could happen to, and, what's more, you aren't the kind of driver who mishandles his car. Someone took the split pin out, and loosened that nut so it would work off. What do you say, Andy?"

"Ay," said Andy, slowly nodding his head.

Mrs. Kane's chauffeur came into the workshop at this moment and touched his hat to Jim. "I've brought the car down, sir." He cast a curious, professional eye over the Bentley and looked inquiringly at Jim.

"Take a look at her," said Jim.

The chauffeur obeyed with alacrity. The foreman and Andy stood in silence, watching him.

"What do you make of it, Jackson?"

The chauffeur looked at the nut held out to him by Mason and then at Jim. "That's duly work, sir, or I'm a Dutchman. That never happened on its own. My Lord, there's someone laying for you, sir!

Master Timothy's right!"

"Looks like it," said Jim. "Run me in to the police station, will you? I'd better try and get hold of the superintendent."

As good luck would have it, Hannasyde was just coming away from the police station when the Daimler drew up and set Jim down. He stopped on the steps and said: "Good morning, Mr. Kane. Do you want me, by any chance?"

"Yes, I do," replied Jim. "Can you spare me ten minutes?"

"Of course. Come inside."

Jim followed him into the police station and to a small bare office leading out of the charge room. Hannasyde shut the door and pushed forward a chair near the desk. "Sit down, Mr. Kane. What can I do for you?"

"I don't know, but I hope you can do something," replied Jim with a rueful smile. "I've just had what might easily have been a fatal accident in my car."

"Indeed?" Hannasyde moved to the other side of the desk and sat down. "Go on, Mr. Kane.

Where did it happen, and how?"

"On the coast road, on my way home from Portlaw. I had Miss Allison beside me and mercifully wasn't driving at any speed. As I swung round the first big bend in the road I lost all control over the steering, felt my front wheels floating, and ended up in the ditch. Had I been driving at anything like my normal speed we should both of us have been killed. As it is, I was going slow, and we got off with a few bruises. Do you know anything about cars, Superintendent?"

"A certain amount. Not very much."

"Let me have that pencil then. will you? Thanks. Now, I had the car hauled out of the ditch and towed to Lamb's Garage. We discovered that the track rod-that's the rod that runs between the two front wheels, like this-was loose at one end." He sketched a rough diagram on the back of an envelope. "At each end of the track rod there's a ball joint which fits into it and is held by a nut, here.

Do you see? Holding that nut is a split pin. When we inspected the car, the nut on the left end of the rod was missing. The pin also, of course. I went back along the road with one of the garage hands and found the nut. It had been smeared over with a lot of muck."

"Are you suggesting that it was done deliberately, Mr. Kane?"

"No, I'm not suggesting," replied Jim. "I'm a.s.serting. It was done deliberately: there can be no doubt about that. Someone removed the split pin securing the nut, and, I should say, unscrewed the nut down to the last few threads, messed it up thoroughly with a lot of oil and muck, and left it like that. The first big bend in the road, with the consequent pull on the wheels, did the rest of the trick.

Had I not had Miss Allison with me it was a safe bet I should have been travelling somewhere between forty and fifty miles an hour, in which case I should have smashed myself and the car to glory."

Hannasyde raised his eyes from the diagram he had picked up and said: "Yes, I understand this all right. Do you suppose your car was tampered with at Cliff House, or elsewhere?"

"Elsewhere. I can't think that the nut, loosened as it must have been, would have held all the way to Portlaw and halfway back again."

"Did you leave your car anywhere in Portlaw?"

"Yes, I did," replied Jim. "I left it for about an hour in the yard at the back of Kane and Mansell's offices in Bridge Street."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Hannasyde did not say anything for a moment or two but sat looking in his grave, considering way at the large young man before him. He had laid the diagram down again and was gently dropping the point of a pencil on the desk, running his fingers down the smooth sides and letting the pencil slip back again through them. "In the yard at the back of Kane and Mansell's offices," he repeated presently. "Nowhere else?"

Jim shook his head.