The night was damp and murky.  The country lane was unlit, and they found their way by intermittent flashes of Templeton’s electric torch. There was no dwelling between Mrs. Pouncey’s cottage and the garage, and at this hour, half-past eight on a winter night, they were not likely to meet either pedestrians or vehicles.  So much the greater, therefore, was Templeton’s surprise, when, on approaching the spot where the garage and workshop stood, he saw a dim light through the window of the latter.