Spike could hardly believe his eyes! There was a motor-mower there, brand
new under its coating of dust, and some other gardening tools, cluttered
together against the wall, and shelves of tools, and tins of paint . . .
but what caught Spike's eye most was the vintage car. It was, like the
other things, covered by a fine dusting of grey, but it was obviously
brand new, and very valuable.

Spike went round the car, looking for the name. It was there, on the door.
Rolls-Royce 40/50. "Rolls-Royc!" thought Spike, "This is a Silver Ghost!
This car is worth millions!"

He went to the front and checked the number plate. R 1909. He ran his hand
along the long bonnet, cleaned the glass on the head-lamps, felt the brass
fittings. He sat in the plush, red leather seat and turned the steering
wheel slightly. Marvelous! He examined the car all over, even tried the
folding hood behind the back seat. It was all there. It was an original.

When he finally emerged with the lawn-mower, he had a plan. He knew it
would be risky, but the rewards would be worth it. He started the mower
and began to cut the long grass, taking short bites at it. It was like a
wall on every side, solid and stalky. He attacked. Advance, retreat,
advance, retreat, slowly eating away at what had once been a wide, flat
lawn. Bit by bit he cleared the grass round the side of the house. He
sweated. He developed blisters on his hands. He gathered the piles of cut
grass and heaped them under a tree. He struggled with branches, and
bricks, and tore his clothes. But it didn't matter. He laughed at his
injuries. They were nothing, compared to what he was going to walk away
with.

Or should he say drive away with?

About one o'clock Miss Huddy came shuffling round the house to see how
things were going.

"Hello" she said, "Who are you?"

"I'm the boy you hired to do your gardening." said Spike.

"Well you'd better stop now and have something to eat" "Eat?" thought
Spike, He'd completely forgotten about food. He followed the old lady
back into the house. She had a good meal ready for him. Tinned stew, hot
from the pot, and lemonade, and tinned peaches and ice cream, and a box of
chocolate biscuits and some licorice (which had gone soft and sticky).
Spike ate hungrily.

"I found something in the shed" he said casualty, as he finished his
second bowl of fruit.

"Oh yes?"