The inspector grew purple in the face. "Perhaps you'll favour us with the proof, Mr. Amberley." "None," said Amberley. "One person might shake the alibi, but he daren't do it. You may as well make up your mind to it; you won't get a conviction."
"That's very interesting," said the inspector sarcastically. "Useful too. No charge of murder at all, in fact."
"On the contrary," said Amberley.
"I see," said the inspector. "I've heard your opinion of Brown's death. Going to charge Collins with that, I daresay?"
"Collins," said Mr. Amberley, picking up his hat, "was the last man in the world to want Brown dead." He turned to Colonel Watson. "About the missing evidence, Colonel. If you can get a tactful man onto the job - not Fraser - send someone to interview Dawson's sister. It is just possible that he had it at the time of his death. I want all his effects carefully gone through and any papers brought to me. It's a slim chance, but worth trying. Particularly a torn paper, Colonel. Remember that."
On his way back to Greythorne he stopped in Upper Nettlefold to see Sergeant Gubbins. The sergeant was busy with a motor accident, but he left it for a moment to speak to Amberley.
"Done as I asked?" Amberley said briefly.
"Yes, sir. Tucker. He won't make a second mistake."
"That's all right then," said Amberley, and departed.
It was at nine o'clock that evening that a scared housemaid presented herself in the drawing room at Greythorne and said hysterically: "Oh, sir! Oh, my lady! Burglars!"