"I had better drive," said Kenneth; "then I can keep in the background while you are delivering the cask, if you can tackle it alone."
"That will be easy enough. I see there’s a ladder or inclined plane or whatever they call it on the dray. I’ve only to roll the cask down and trundle it to the door. I don’t suppose they’ll let me carry it inside."
Kenneth took the reins, and drove off, Pariset, who also had smeared face and hands, dangling his legs over the tail of the dray. They jogged down the road, passed under the railway bridge, and came in due course to the mill.
The premises were surrounded by an old and dilapidated wall, but they noticed that along its top ran a row of formidable spikes, apparently of recent date. The front door of the mill-house faced the road. It was stoutly built of oak studded with nails, and was flanked on both sides by barred windows. The smuggling miller who built the place had evidently made himself secure against surprise.
When the dray drew up before the door, Pariset sprang down and jerked the iron bell-pull. From the driver’s seat Kenneth saw a face appear for an instant at one of the windows. After a short interval the bolts were withdrawn, the door opened, and a man stood on the threshold. Kenneth tingled; he had recognised him instantly as the man who had been in conversation with Hellwig. He turned his head so as not to show his full face, pulled his hat lower over his eyes, and hoped that the recognition had not been mutual. And he listened anxiously, wondering how Pariset would acquit himself in his novel part, and wishing for the moment that Granger was in his place.
Pariset, however, was cool and collected. He took the bull by the horns.
"I am sorry I am late, monsieur," he said, "but the fact is that all our carters are called up for transport purposes. Being anxious not to disappoint a valued customer, my master has sent us out of the office. We shan’t be able to come again, for we’re called up ourselves--all through those pigs of Germans, who are said to be across the frontier. We shan’t be able to deliver any more beer, I’m afraid. It’s a wonder we’ve any horses left."
The German merely grunted in answer to this.
"We’re in for a very bad time," Pariset went on, as he hoisted the end of the cask on to the doorstep. "Hadn’t you better go back to Switzerland, monsieur? Pardon the suggestion, but we don’t know what may happen. If these German pigs come south----"