"A Government official!" I exclaimed in wonder. "I gave no such
permission!" I declared. "As I have repeatedly said, these alterations
you are making are strictly in secret."
"That's what I told him, sir."
"You didn't let him see the work, I hope?" I asked anxiously.
"Not very likely, sir," was the man's reply. "I asked him for a written
authorisation, but he said he'd left it in his office. There was a good
deal of swank about him, I thought. He seemed to have a swelled head."
"Well--what happened?" I inquired.
"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."