AFTER LUNCH, Gees got out the Rolls-Bentley and, stopping in front of the house, waited while Tyrrell got in beside him. Then he drove on until they were just about to cross the narrow stone bridge before taking the ascent to Locksborough gateway, and there stopped.
"Trouble of any sort?" Tyrrell inquired.
"No. I was just taking a look at that pile you made for me."
He gazed over the fence beside the lane at a breast-high heap of mingled logs and brushwood, with, beside it, an array of two- gallon cans of paraffin surmounted by an ordinary galvanized iron pail. Then, as he gazed ahead again, and let the car move slowly on, he laughed.
"You must be out of civilization, here," he remarked. "To stand a dozen cans beside an ordinary road, even as far from it as they are, would be equivalen
