The valet bowed. "Perfectly, sir. It shall not occur again."
"It had better not," Fountain said grimly. "It seems to me it is about time I got rid of you. All things considered."
The shadow of a smile crossed Collins' thin lips, but he nothing. Corkran came out of the library at that moment, and Fountain turned to meet him. The valet went away soft-footed across the hall.
"You were quite right, my dear chap," Fountain said. "Ringing up his girl! Bloody cheek! Thanks for tipping me the wink."
Seven miles away Miss Shirley Brown came out of the telephone-box at the Boar's Head with a triumphant look in her eyes. She was met by the hall porter, who informed her that a gentleman of the name of Amberley had called to see her, and the look changed to one of guarded secrecy. She told the porter to inform Mr. Amberley that she had gone out, adding as an excuse that she must take her dog for a run and could not wait now.
She allowed her visitor ten minutes' grace and then came downstairs followed by Bill. Mr. Amberley had gone leaving no message. With a sigh of relief not entirely unmixed with disappointment, Shirley went out, walking in the direction of Ivy Cottage where she had Mark's packing to do.
At five o'clock in the afternoon she shut Bill into her bedroom and went out, dressed in a long tweed coat and a felt hat pulled low over her head. She went directly to the Market Square, where the omnibuses that served the surrounding villages started. No. 9 bore the legend LOWBOROUGH on its signboard, and she boarded it. After some minutes its driver, who also performed the functions of conductor, got in and started his engine. Shirley, who had chosen a seat immediately behind him, leaned forward and requested him to set her down at the turning that led to Norton.
It had been cloudy all day, and the omnibus had not gone very far when a fine rain began to fall, rather like a Scotch mist. The light was fading quickly, and the landscape seen on either side of the omnibus looked grey and dreary. Shirley gave a little shiver at the prospect of flat, wet fields and was impelled by some inward suspicion to glance round at the other occupants of the bus. She thought she must be suffering from nerves, a complaint she despised, for she had had an unaccountable feeling that she had been followed from the Boar's Head.
Her fellow-travellers seemed ordinary enough. There were two farmers discussing the weather in broad Sussex accents; a red-faced man who might have been a gamekeeper, who sat all over a seat meant for two perusing Our Dogs; and several women, who had been doing the week's shopping in the town. On the route several others were picked up and hailed by those already in the bus. Behind Shirley an Irishwoman poured into the ear of a credulous and apparently interested acquaintance every detail of some unknown person's operation for appendicitis.
At the first village of any size most of the people left the bus, and the driver got down to deliver a parcel at the inn. Shirley and the red-faced man were left alone. Still with the uncomfortable sensation of being followed she took a surreptitious look at him. He was absorbed in his paper and did not seem to be interested in her. A mile beyond the village the bus stopped to set him down outside a kennels for gun dogs. Shirley settled herself more comfortably and sneered at her own qualms.