He had hastily pulled on a pair of trousers over his pyjamas, thrust his feet into a pair of shoes and socks, grabbed a coat, and tiptoed downstairs to the front door. He did not want to run any risk of waking Joan and alarming her, and he wasn't particularly keen on waking Brother Basil either. He happened to know that there was an old bicycle Joan sometimes used in a shed near the house. He had got hold of this and set off in pursuit.
By the time he had reached the gates there was no sign of the mysterious cyclist. Corkran had chosen the Upper Nettlefold Road, thinking it the likeliest way for the man to have gone. The seat of the bicycle was too low for him, and one of the tyres badly needed pumping. Altogether it was a fairly uncomfortable journey, but he had kept on and been rewarded, about a mile from the manor, by catching sight of his quarry. After that the chase had been very good fun. He had taken care to keep well behind, for even though there was no lamp on his machine the moonlight would have betrayed him had the man he was following chanced to look round.
He had very nearly been discovered at the end of the journey. The unknown man had passed the end of the lane to Ivy Cottage, and he, Corkran, had pedalled staunchly after him. But some yards on the first man had dismounted and pushed his bicycle into the ditch. Corkran was luckily in the shadow of a clump of trees at the time. He too had sought shelter in the ditch and waited to see what his quarry would do. The man had turned and come back on foot. Corkran did not mind admitting that he had got a bit of a shock then. The fellow was no longer wearing his cap, but had got a sack pulled over his head with eyeholes cut in it. In the moonlight, and before he had had time to see just what it was, it had looked perfectly beastly. Of course, this had made him certain that whoever was wearing the sack was not up to any good. He wished he had got a weapon at that moment, but since Brother Basil kept the gun room locked, and he wasn't himself in the habit of travelling with a revolver, he hadn't. However, it seemed pretty feeble to give up the stalk at this moment, so he had followed the man, and from behind the hedge surrounding the cottage had watched him force open the window and climb in. After that, of course, weapon or no weapon, he had had to go on. The rest they both knew.
The sergeant, who had listened admiringly to this tale, said handsomely that it did him credit. Mr. Amberley said that his friend's intentions might be good, but the result disastrous. He supposed he would have to run Corkran back to the manor.
"You suppose right," said Anthony cheerfully. "Nothing would induce me to mount the velocipede again, I can tell you."
"I'll go and lock the back door again," Amberley said. "We can go out by the front." He went through into the kitchen, carrying his torch. The door still stood open as the fugitive had left it. Amberley was about to shut it when a slight sound caught his ears. He switched his torch on and swept its beam round. Something moved by the door of the woodshed; for a moment he saw Baker's face; then it vanished, and a twig cracked under a retreating footstep. Amberley stepped quickly out into the little kitchen garden; at the same moment Corkran came up behind him and asked what he was up to now. Had he seen anyone? Amberley did not answer for a moment. Then he switched off his torch and said slowly: "No. I don't think so. I'm just going to shut the back gate. You might open the kitchen shutters again, will you?"
He waited till Corkran had gone back into the cottage and then went softly towards the woodshed. There was no one there, nor did there seem to be anyone lurking in the garden. Mr. Amberley stood still listening intently. No sound betrayed the butler's presence. Mr. Amberley's brows rose a little; he turned and went back into the house.
The sergeant and Anthony Corkran were getting on very well together. They were agreed on two points: that the man was undoubtedly Albert Collins; that Mr. Amberley ought not to have let him get away. This much Amberley heard as he re-entered the kitchen. He locked and bolted the door and said over his shoulder: "When we make an arrest, my well-meaning but misguided friends, it will be on a charge of murder - and other things. Not of housebreaking. Further, I would like to draw your attention to one small but significant point. The man who broke into this place tonight did not know of the existence of Bill."
The sergeant cast an eloquent glance at Corkran. "And who," he inquired, "might Bill be, sir?"
"Bill," said Mr. Amberley, "is Miss Brown's bull-terrier. Think it over."