"It was him got Brown out," Tucker said reluctantly "When I - when I come up, he was trying to bring him round. We've been working on him solid, but it's no good, Sergeant. He's dead."
"Yes, and that's something you'll explain back at the station," said the sergeant. He looked at Collins. "As for you, you'll come along too, and explain yourself. Keep your eye on him, Tucker." He turned away and went to join Amberley, who was on his knees beside Mark's body.
The boy's head was turned to one side, and his arms were stretched out.
Amberley spoke without looking up. "A light, Sergeant."
The sergeant produced a torch from his pocket. Amberley took it and turned it full on to Mark's head, searching closely. "Help me to turn him over, will you?"
They shifted the limp body on to its back; Mark's eyes were closed, and his jaw sagged slightly. Amberley pushed the wet hair gently off his brow and brought the torch nearer. After a moment he switched the light off and rose.
"Not a sign of a blow. Accidental death, Sergeant."
"What, with that Collins standing here?" muttered the sergeant. "We'll see about that!"
"I'm afraid we shall," said Amberley. He walked back to the car. "You'd better get inside and put that rug round you, Collins." He got into the car himself as he spoke, and sat down at the wheel, looking frowningly ahead of him.
The sergeant wanted to know whether Collins had been cautioned, and upon hearing that he had not, promptly cautioned him himself. The valet said nothing.