The headlights showed the road running straight ahead. Something lay at the side, half across the grass border.
One of the constables was standing up and peering ahead. "It's a bicycle!"
The car shot forward. "It's something more than a bicycle, my friend," said Amberley.
There was something dark beside the bicycle. As the car drew nearer the sergeant gave a sharp exclamation. The curious heap on the roadside was the body of a man lying in a crumpled attitude, half hidden by the uncut grass that grew beside the ditch.
Amberley pulled up. His face was very grim. "Take a look, sergeant."
The sergeant was already out of the car and bending over the still body, his torch in his hand. He recoiled suddenly and turned rather white about the gills. "My Gawd!" he said.
Amberley got down onto the road and walked towards the huddled figure.
"It's not — very nice, sir," said the sergeant gruffly, and burned his torch on again.
Amberley stood looking. down at what remained of Albert Collins. "The top of his head's been blown right ()fl;' the sergeant said in rather a hushed voice.
"Shotgun," said Amberley briefly. "Close range."