they aren't likely to, though Constable Parkins found a kettle with a hole in it and the half of an old boot in the ditch."
"Did they find any trace of a bicycle having been pushed into the field behind the hedge?" Anthony inquired.
"No, sir, not so far as I know."
"Did they look in the field?"
"Oh yes, sir, they looked all right, but I wouldn't say but what they were a bit distracted like, on account of,I lot of young bullocks Mr. Fawcett's got in that field. They were a bit playful, I understand."
"Splendid! Did they play with Inspector Fraser?"
The sergeant put up a large hand to cover his mouth. "Well, sir, I did hear as how the inspector didn't stop long enough to give them the chance, so to speak."
Mr. Amberley laughed and switched on his engine again. "Not fond of animals, perhaps. Now, Sergeant, you mustn't keep me gossiping with you. I've got something better to do, you know."
"Me? Me keep you - ? Well, I'm…'
"And I'd rather you didn't investigate Collins' visit to Ivy Cottage, if it's all the same to you. I'll do that myself."
The car began to move forward; the sergeant walked beside it for a few steps. "That's all very well, sir, but when do we get something to go on?"
"All in good time," promised Mr. Amberley; "I haven't got much myself yet. I'll tell you this, though; unless Fin much mistaken you'll find that the murder of Dawson is the least interesting part of the whole problem. So long."
The sergeant fell back and stood watching the car go up the lane to Ivy Cottage. He shook his head darkly, turned his bicycle round, and resumed his interrupted progress into Upper Nettlefold.
Amberley left his car outside the little white gate and went up the path to the front door. The window of the living room was open, and through it he heard Mark Brown's voice say petulantly: "You made a bloody mess of the whole thing. You ought to have let me do it. I bet I wouldn't have let anyone steal a march on me. You let him get the thing and then you send for him to come up here. The hell of a lot of use that is! Supposing anyone had seen him?"
Amberley knocked loudly on the door, and the voice ceased abruptly. After a moment the door was opened by Mark Brown, and the bull-terrier bounded out apparently delighted to welcome the guest.
Amberley said easily: "Good afternoon. I came to return a piece of lost property to your sister."
Mark recognised him and flushed. "Oh, it's you, is it? Come in, won't you? I say - I'm afraid I was a bit screwed the other day. Awfully decent of you to have brought me home."
Amberley brushed that aside. When he liked he could be very pleasant, and apparently he liked now. He had Mark at his ease in two minutes, and Mark, losing some of his suspicion, invited him to come in to see his sister.
He came in, escorted by the bull-terrier, and preceded Mark into the little sitting room, where Shirley Brown was standing behind the table. She gave no sign of being pleased to see him, but watched him intently under her frowning brows.
Mr. Amberley was not in the least dismayed. "How do you do?" he said. "Did you get home all right the other evening?"
"If I hadn't I should hardly be here now," she replied.
"Oh, shut up, Shirley!" interposed her brother, pulling a chair forward. "Won't you sit down, Mr. - Amberley, isn't it? Didn't you say you had something belonging to my sister?"
A startled look leaped into her eyes. She said quickly: "Something of mine?"
"Something you left behind you at the manor," said Amberley.
There was a moment's tense silence; the brother's and sister's eyes met for an instant.
"Oh?" said Mark with forced carelessness. "What was that?"
"Just something Miss Brown dropped," said Amberley and brought out a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket. "Here it is."
The tenseness passed. Shirley took the handkerchief. "How very kind of you to go to so much trouble," she said ironically.
"Not at all," said Amberley courteously.
She stared at him in mingled surprise
"Did they find any trace of a bicycle having been pushed into the field behind the hedge?" Anthony inquired.
"No, sir, not so far as I know."
"Did they look in the field?"
"Oh yes, sir, they looked all right, but I wouldn't say but what they were a bit distracted like, on account of,I lot of young bullocks Mr. Fawcett's got in that field. They were a bit playful, I understand."
"Splendid! Did they play with Inspector Fraser?"
The sergeant put up a large hand to cover his mouth. "Well, sir, I did hear as how the inspector didn't stop long enough to give them the chance, so to speak."
Mr. Amberley laughed and switched on his engine again. "Not fond of animals, perhaps. Now, Sergeant, you mustn't keep me gossiping with you. I've got something better to do, you know."
"Me? Me keep you - ? Well, I'm…'
"And I'd rather you didn't investigate Collins' visit to Ivy Cottage, if it's all the same to you. I'll do that myself."
The car began to move forward; the sergeant walked beside it for a few steps. "That's all very well, sir, but when do we get something to go on?"
"All in good time," promised Mr. Amberley; "I haven't got much myself yet. I'll tell you this, though; unless Fin much mistaken you'll find that the murder of Dawson is the least interesting part of the whole problem. So long."
The sergeant fell back and stood watching the car go up the lane to Ivy Cottage. He shook his head darkly, turned his bicycle round, and resumed his interrupted progress into Upper Nettlefold.
Amberley left his car outside the little white gate and went up the path to the front door. The window of the living room was open, and through it he heard Mark Brown's voice say petulantly: "You made a bloody mess of the whole thing. You ought to have let me do it. I bet I wouldn't have let anyone steal a march on me. You let him get the thing and then you send for him to come up here. The hell of a lot of use that is! Supposing anyone had seen him?"
Amberley knocked loudly on the door, and the voice ceased abruptly. After a moment the door was opened by Mark Brown, and the bull-terrier bounded out apparently delighted to welcome the guest.
Amberley said easily: "Good afternoon. I came to return a piece of lost property to your sister."
Mark recognised him and flushed. "Oh, it's you, is it? Come in, won't you? I say - I'm afraid I was a bit screwed the other day. Awfully decent of you to have brought me home."
Amberley brushed that aside. When he liked he could be very pleasant, and apparently he liked now. He had Mark at his ease in two minutes, and Mark, losing some of his suspicion, invited him to come in to see his sister.
He came in, escorted by the bull-terrier, and preceded Mark into the little sitting room, where Shirley Brown was standing behind the table. She gave no sign of being pleased to see him, but watched him intently under her frowning brows.
Mr. Amberley was not in the least dismayed. "How do you do?" he said. "Did you get home all right the other evening?"
"If I hadn't I should hardly be here now," she replied.
"Oh, shut up, Shirley!" interposed her brother, pulling a chair forward. "Won't you sit down, Mr. - Amberley, isn't it? Didn't you say you had something belonging to my sister?"
A startled look leaped into her eyes. She said quickly: "Something of mine?"
"Something you left behind you at the manor," said Amberley.
There was a moment's tense silence; the brother's and sister's eyes met for an instant.
"Oh?" said Mark with forced carelessness. "What was that?"
"Just something Miss Brown dropped," said Amberley and brought out a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket. "Here it is."
The tenseness passed. Shirley took the handkerchief. "How very kind of you to go to so much trouble," she said ironically.
"Not at all," said Amberley courteously.
She stared at him in mingled surprise
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