Bill was sniffing suspiciously at Tucker's ankles. Tucker made propitiating noises and wondered why the young lady couldn't have had a nice little Pekinese. He advanced a nervous hand towards Bill, assuring him that he was a good dog. Bill was more interested in trying to ascertain whether he was a good man. He came to the conclusion that no steps need at the moment be taken to evict the constable and went off again to continue operations in the back garden.
Inside the cottage Shirley had lit a lamp and was burning a collection of old letters and bills in the kitchen grate. The trunks were all packed and labelled ready for the carrier to take away; she had counted the laundry and left it in the basket in the scullery. Having watched the last piece of paper burn away, she picked up the lamp and went to make a final tour of inspection and to shut and bolt the windows again. She was annoyed to find that she had forgotten to look inside the cupboard on the landing, where Mark had kept some odds and ends. Disposing of these took her some little time, and she was startled to see, on looking out of the window, that it had grown quite dark.
In the garden the tiny glow of a cigarette-end advertised the presence of Constable Tucker. For the first time since he had started to shadow her she was rather glad to feel him close at hand. The charwoman was right: it was lonely in the cottage. She went down to assure herself that the back door was properly secured and took the opportunity of calling Bill in again.
An occasional car could be heard passing down the main road at the bottom of the lane. As she put on her hat she distinctly heard the change of gear as one turned into the lane and came up the slight hill towards the cottage. Hoping that the car might be Mr. Amberley's she went to open the front door. When the car went on past the cottage and she realised that it must be going up to the farm, she was slightly annoyed at her feeling of disappointment and shut the door with a cross little bang.
The thought of Mark's tragic end came into her mind. She found herself listening rather intently and glancing over her shoulder. The uncurtained windows, framing darkness, made her nervous. She could not help expecting to see a face suddenly pressed up against the glass staring at her. The idea was absurd, of course, but once admitted would not be banished. To hearten herself she pulled the Colt automatic out of the pocket of her long coat before she put it on and laid it on the table beside her.
She buttoned the coat closer up to her neck and pulled on her gauntlets. Bill's leash was not to be found; it never was, she thought savagely. A short search brought it to light hanging on a peg on the back of the kitchen door. She unhooked it and went to the table to pick up her gun and to turn out the lamp.
Then she remembered that she had left the window open in the living room.
"Pull yourself together, you ass!" she said severely, and went to shut it.
In the small passageway between the two rooms a dark figure loomed up suddenly to meet her. Her breath caught on a startled gasp. She fell back a pace, peering. "Mr. Amberley?" she said, her voice trembling uncontrollably.
The figure was upon her before she could move. A vice-like arm encircled her; she tried to scream, and something soft, sickly with the fumes of chloroform, was pressed over her nose and mouth, stifling her.