"Yes, but, Mr. Amberley, sir, I don't want to go joyriding at this hour of night!" objected the sergeant. "What's the idea?"
"Furthermore," said Amberley, "I want you to bring a couple of men with you."
"But what for?" insisted the sergeant.
"For the simple reason that I think it just possible that Collins has not bolted. We're going to try and find him. Are you coming?"
"Yes," said the sergeant gloomily. "I'm coming, but whatever I was thinking about when I begged you to take on this case fair beats me."
"You were thinking of promotion, Sergeant, and you'll probably get it," said Amberley encouragingly, and rang off.
For a moment he sat still at the desk, reaching out his hand mechanically for the cigarette box beside him. He lit a cigarette and got up and began to walk slowly up and down the room, his brain busy with this new problem. When the cigarette was finished he stubbed it out and went upstairs again. He did not go at once to his own room, but opened Sir Humphrey's door and inquired whether his uncle was awake.
A grunt came from the bed. Mr. Amberley switched on the light. "Sorry, sir, but I'm going out. So don't pay any attention to uncouth noises."
Sir Humphrey raised himself on his elbow. "God bless the boy, what next? Why are you going out? What has happened?"
"Fountain's valet is missing. The police think he has bolted."