The mechanic had indeed crawled again under the huge car. The count could have added that he was cautious for he drew his legs well into cover.
The count and the secretary went off. The secretary was to call at the office next day and arrange things. The manager was deferential, but when they had left the glass-roofed hall he permitted himself to laugh. Then he crossed to the car and bent down.
"It's all right, Mr. Trent," he said, "they've gone now; you can come out."
Anthony Trent looked up at him and grinned.
"You can always get a job as an actor," he said.
"Your accent is a bit of all right," the manager returned, gratified.
"If it's etiquette for a manager to have a drink with a mere oil-stained mechanic as I am, lead on to the nearest place."
"Well," said the manager later, "what do you think of him?"
"He struck me," said Trent in a curious, musing way. There was something in his tone which made the manager look at him quickly. Anthony Trent's face was grim and set.
"I don't think he meant it that way," Mr. King replied. He had visions of assault and battery.
"Some day I shall give him the opportunity to apologize," said the American.
Mr. King had received personal instructions from the chairman of the Lion Motor, Ltd., to obey Mr. Anthony Trent in every particular. Mr. Trent was to be allowed to have the run of the shops and the most expert mechanics in the firm were to put all they knew at his disposal.
Anthony Trent started by giving the manager the best dinner he had ever eaten. Then he coached him in the _rôle_ of a manager anxious not to lose his best demonstrator. King was delighted that Count Michæl walked into the trap set for him eagerly. He liked Trent but thought poorly of his chances in a tussle with this big girthed foreigner.
"Must be fifty inches round the chest," he observed, sipping his drink delicately, "and most of it muscle. One of the most powerful men I've ever laid eyes on, Mr. Trent. Built like a wrestler. About five feet ten I judge, a couple of inches less than you but five stone heavier."
"What was the big car on the aisle opposite us at the show?" Trent asked, as King thought, irrelevantly.
"The 'Amazon,'" King answered scornfully. "All varnish and silver plate and upholstery with a motor that isn't worth a tinker's dam."