Amberley declined it. The sergeant, eyeing him somewhat aggrievedly, murmured something about regulations, but allowed Mr. Corkran to persuade him. When he came back he was wiping his moustache and seemed to be on the best of terms with Anthony. As he drove away from the manor he informed Mr. Amberley that he didn't know when he had taken such a fancy to a young gentleman. "And what's more, sir," he said confidentially, "though I don't say he's right, there might be something in that idea of his about a homicidal maniac. After all, sir three murders, without any rhyme or reason to them. What do you think?"
"I think you and Mr. Corkran were made for one another," said Amberley. "The murders were not all committed by the same man. Dawson was killed by Collins."
"Eh?" The sergeant was startled. "But you never seemed to make much of Collins, Mr. Amberley! I've suspected him all along, but you…'
"The trouble is, Sergeant, that you suspected him of the wrong crime."
"Oh!" said the sergeant, rather at sea. "I suppose you mean something, sir, but I'm blessed if I know what. Did you make anything of what we heard up there?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the manor.
"There were one or two points," replied Ambericy.
"That's what I thought, sir. I don't mind telling you I got my eye on that butler. I'd like to find out a bit about him. He'll bear watching. Crops up out of nowhere, so to speak, and knows more than what you'd expect. Not at all surprised to see us, he wasn't. Might have been expecting us. Well, I got a feeling about him, and when I get a feeling I'm not often wrong. That's your man, Mr. Amberley, you mark my words!"
Amberley glanced enigmatically towards him. "You've a marvellous intuition, Gubbins."
"Well, that's as may be, sir. But you wait and you'll see I'm right."
"I think, Sergeant," said Mr. Amberley, swinging round a sharp bend, "that you are nearer the truth than you know."