k, along the top of which the polished edges of the rails gleamed
in the midday sun. Beyond was the wide expanse of the river, with a
dazzling track of shimmering gold stretching across it and hiding the
low-lying farther shore with its brilliancy. A few small boats moved
slowly near the shore, while farther out an occasional large steamer
came into view going up the fairway to Goole. Every now and then trains
roared past, the steam hardly visible in the dry air.

The afternoon dragged slowly but not unpleasantly away, until about five
o'clock they observed the first sign of activity about the syndicate's
depot which had taken place since their arrival. The door in the
galvanized fence opened and five figures emerged and slowly crossed
the railway. They paused for a moment after reaching the lane, then
separated, four going eastwards towards the distillery, the fifth coming
north towards the point at which the watchers were concealed. The latter
thereupon moved out from their hiding place on to the road.

The fifth figure resolved itself into that of a middle-aged man of the
laboring class, slow, heavy, and obese. In his rather bovine countenance
hardly any spark of intelligence shone. He did not appear to have seen
the others as he approached, but evinced neither surprise nor interest
when Hilliard accosted him.

"Any place about here you can get a drink?"

The man slowly jerked his head to the left.

"Oop in village," he answered. "Raven bar."

"Come along and show us the way and have a drink with us," Hilliard
invited.

The man grasped this and his eyes gleamed.

"Ay," he replied succinctly.

As they walked Hilliard attempted light conversation, but without
eliciting much response from their new acquaintance, and it was not
until he had consumed his third bottle of beer that his tongue became
somewhat looser.

"Any chance of a job where you're working?" Hilliard went on. "My pal
and I would be glad to pick up something."

The man shook his head, apparently noticing nothing incongruous in the
question.

"Don't think it."

"No harm in asking the boss anyway. Where might we find him?"

"Down at works likely. He be there most times."

"I'd rather go to his house. Can you tell where he lives?"

"Ay. Down at works."

"But he doesn't sleep at the works surely?"

"Ay. Sleeps in tin hut."

The friends exchanged glances. Their problem was even more difficult
than they had supposed. A secret inspection