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He was talking angrily to a younger, weak-faced man called<br />
Barnes, who had been sitting nearest <strong>the</strong> door. ‘You’re sure you<br />
didn’t see anything?’<br />
Barnes shook his head. ‘It was <strong>the</strong> wind, it must have been.<br />
Blew open <strong>the</strong> cellar door, knocked <strong>the</strong> bottle over...’ His voice<br />
tailed <strong>of</strong>f, unconvincing even to himself.<br />
‘Listen,’ said Lupton suddenly. ‘What’s that?’ They heard<br />
<strong>the</strong> harsh roar <strong>of</strong> an engine going away into <strong>the</strong> distance. ‘A<br />
sports car,’ said Lupton menacingly. ‘There’s only one sports car<br />
here – it belongs to our new friend, Mr. Yates.’