The lorry was the same. At least there on the top was the casting,
just as he had seen it. It was inconceivable that two similar
lorries should have two identical castings arranged in the same way,
and at the same time and place. And yet, perhaps it was just
possible.

But as he looked he noticed a detail which settled the matter. The
casting was steadied by some rough billets of wood. One of these
billets was split, and a splinter of curious shape had partially
entered a bolt hole. He recalled now, though it had slipped from
his memory, that he had noticed that queer-shaped splinter as the
lorry passed him on the bridge. It was therefore unquestionably
and beyond a shadow of doubt the same machine.

Involuntarily he stopped and stood staring at the number plate,
wondering if his recollection of that seen at the bridge could be
at fault. He thought not. In fact, he was certain. He recalled
the shape of the 4, which had an unusually small hollow in the
middle. There was no shadow of doubt of this either. He remained
motionless for a few seconds, puzzling over the problem, and was
just about to remark on it when the girl broke in hurriedly.

"Father will be in the office," she said, and her voice was
sharpened as from anxiety. "Won't you come and see him about the
petrol?"

He looked at her curiously. The smile had gone from her lips, and
her face was pale. She was frowning, and in her eyes there showed
unmistakable fear. She was not looking at him, and his gaze followed
the direction of hers.