The sergeant was palpably disgusted with this story, which he did not in the least believe. But there did not seem at the moment to be any way of proving its falsity, nor could he very well charge Collins with having pushed Mark Brown in the river. Tucker's evidence showed that Collins had not only plunged in to rescue Mark, but that he had also refused to give up trying to resuscitate him when the policeman had pronounced the task to be hopeless. He looked for guidance towards Mr. Amberley, but Amberley was speaking to the valet. He wanted to know whether any car had passed him when he was following Mark, or any pedestrian. Collins answered unhesitatingly that he had seen no one until Mr. Jarrold had come by and been hailed by Tucker.
Mr. Amberley seemed to be satisfied and walked away to the fireplace and began to fill a pipe.
"I suppose you can go," said the sergeant reluctantly.
"Mind, I don't say I like the sound of this story of yours, because I don't. If you could bring witnesses to prove it all happened like you said that would be different. But all you've told me rests on your word alone, and the only person who could say different is drowned."
The valet said slowly: "I feel sure, Sergeant, that Miss Brown will bear me out that her brother had no reason to want to murder me. Apart from the occasions I have mentioned I never to my knowledge set eyes on the young gentleman."
"You may be sure we shall have a word with Miss Brown, my man," promised the sergeant.
"Yes, Sergeant. I should be very glad if you would," said Collins meekly.
"And don't forget you'll be wanted at the inquest," said the sergeant, and made a gesture of dismissal.
The valet went out escorted by Constable Tucker, and the sergeant sat back in his chair and looked at Mr. Amberley.
"Well, sir? What do you make of that?" he inquired.