Before he reached the high wall that surrounds these works on the land
side he got out of the saddle and carefully tried the four shoes of
his horse. One of them was loose. He loosened it further, working at it
patiently with the handle of his whip. Then he led the horse forward and
found that it limped, which seemed to satisfy him. As he walked on, with
the bridle over his arm, he consulted his watch. There was just light
enough to show him that it was nearly six.

The iron-foundries were quiet now. They had been closed at five. From
the distant streets the sound of the traffic came to his ears in a long,
low roar, like the breaking of surf upon shingle far away.

Cartoner led his horse to the high double door that gave access to the
iron-foundry. He turned the horse very exactly and carefully, so that
the animal's shoulder pressed against that half of the door which opened
first. Then he rang the bell, of which the chain swung gently in the
wind. It gave a solitary clang inside the deserted works. After a few
moments there was the sound of rusted bolts being slowly withdrawn, and
at the right moment Cartoner touched the horse with his whip, so that it
started forward against the door and thrust it open, despite the efforts
of the gate-keeper, who staggered back into the dimly lighted yard.

Cartoner looked quickly round him. All was darkness except an open
doorway, from which a shaft of light poured out, dimly illuminating
cranes and carts and piles of iron girders. The gate-keeper was
hurriedly bolting the gate. Cartoner led his horse towards the open
door, but before he reached it a number of men ran out and fell on
him like hounds upon a fox. He leaped back, abandoning his horse, and
striking the first-comer full in the chest with his fist. He charged