"That there Albert Collins has done a bunk, sir." Amberley's irritable frown left him. "What?"
"Or so it seems," said the sergeant cautiously. "Mr. Fountain's just been on the phone, and Constable Walker put him right through to me."
"Fountain rang up the police station at three in the morning?"
"That's right, sir. Some people seem to think the police like being rung up at all hours. I've met 'em before - not to mention any names. I have known people who'd get you out of your bed to go on a wild-goose chase where nothing happened, nor was likely to."
"If I took it into my head," said Mr. Amberley distinctly, "to murder anyone —- mentioning no names - I should do it very neatly, Gubbins, and leave no clues behind me."
A fat chuckle sounded at the other end of the wire. "I believe you, sir. A master criminal, that's what you'd be."
"Don't waste time flattering me. Get on with your story."
"I told you all I know, sir. Mr. Fountain says when he went up to bed there wasn't anything got ready for him, and no sign of Collins. So he rung, and the butler came up and said he hadn't seen Collins since before dinner. Well, it isn't his evening off, so Mr. Fountain had Baker go and look in his room. He wasn't there. Mr. Fountain sat up to wait for him, and when it got near three o'clock he rung up the station, like I told you. He said he couldn't get it out of his head how we all suspected Collins of having shoved young Brown into the river, and that's why he thought he'd best let us know before the morning. That's all, sir."
Mr. Amberley was staring at the wall ahead of him, his .,yes narrowed, considering. After a moment the sergeant's voice asked if he was there.
"Yes. Be quiet. I'm thinking."