“One moment, sir. Which side was the steering on?”
“On the right,” said Roger. “The man was driving with a woman by his side.”
For a moment nobody breathed. Then the constable took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.
“Well, that beats it,” he said wearily. “ ’Ere’s a direc’ conflic’ on the most important point. They can’t both ’ve bin drivin’.” He turned to Virginia. “Madam, are you sure——”
“P-positive,” quavered Virginia.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Roger. “He had a spade-shaped beard.”
“She hadn’t,” said Virginia stoutly. “She looked perfectly sweet.”
P.C. Bloke put his note-book and pencil away.
Then he turned to Derry.
“One or the other’s mistook, sir. That’s perfectly plain. And there for the moment I’ll leave it. If I may ’ave a word with your chauffeur . . .”