'Oh! He became very officious-like—said he was a Government inspector of aircraft, and demanded to see what alterations you were making in your machine. My reply was to tell him that when he brought a letter from you, I'd show him—and not before.'
'Excellent!' I said. 'Then he didn't produce any credentials?'
'None. But he argued with me for a long time—told me that I had no right to deny him access to information required for official purposes; that I was liable under the Defence of the Realm Act, and all sorts of other bunkum. In reply, I merely told him to go along to the office and see Mr. Smallpiece, our manager—whom I knew to be up at the London office,' added the foreman with a grin.
'What kind of man was he? Describe him,' I urged.
'Well—he was about forty I should say—round-faced, with a little close-cropped black moustache. He was well-dressed—a dark-blue overcoat with velvet collar, and a grey plush hat. He came in a taxi.'
'Ah! If we could find the driver, we might perhaps discover who he was,' I exclaimed.
'Well, sir, I suspected him, somehow. I didn't like him. So I took the number of the taxi. You'll see it on the back of the card.'
I looked, and there found a number scribbled in pencil.
'By Jove!' I cried. 'Most excellent. I'll soon find out what his movements were. Thank you
