“At 1.10 a.m. on July the eighth I was on duty at the junction of Roe’ampton Lane and Dandle Row. A limousine car, ooze number I afterwards ascertained to be XH 2908, was about to turn out of the Row towards Richmond at a slow pace. Its lights was burnin’. As it turned out I made to pass be’ind it to cross the Lane when a coopy, ooze number I afterwards ascertained to be XL 9436, proceedin’ at a ’igh speed in the direction of Putney ’Eath, swerved right across the roadway an’——”
Derry’s cigarette-case fell to the parquet with a crash.
Everyone jumped violently, and Rosemary, white to the lips, stifled a cry. Purple in the face, the culprit stammered apologies and garnered his cigarettes with trembling fingers. Remembering her recent ignominy, Virginia surveyed his efforts with a cold and glittering stare. His hands clapped to his face, Roger furtively regarded his wife between his fingers.
“Go on, Constable,” said Virginia sweetly. “ ‘Swerved right across the roadway’ directly into the path of the limousine, whose headlights were on.”
“Thank you, madam,” said Bloke triumphantly. “I couldn’t say that myself because I was be’ind your car. But it passed so close to me that I felt the wind on me face.” He turned to Roger. “Do you remember it too, sir?”
As though wishful to uproot it, Captain Chase tugged his moustache.
“I—I have a faint recollection,” he said uneasily. “If I remember, they—they swung away again. You know. Corrected their error an’——”
“ ’Appily for you, sir,” was the grim reply. “Otherwise it’d ’ve been manslaughter. As wicked a piece of reckless drivin’ as ever I saw. Passed the refuge on the wrong side——”
“Had to do that,” said Derry. “I mean—they probably couldn’t ’ve got back without countin’ the refuge out.”
“Very probably, sir,” said the constable. “You can’t bother about them things at forty-five miles an hour.”